At mid of night in fear lest in your revels
Ye stain my floors with blood? Ah, now ye are shamed.
How rose this sudden uproar ’mongst you, lords?
Honour ye not my son, that in his presence,
The morrow of his return, ye are broken forth
In more disordered noise than e’er before?
If ye respect not him, me ye respect:
Who answers for you?
Ant.That impertinent swineherd ...
Eur. The wretch I spake of ...