Chremes. Bear with him, Crito, ’tis his humour.
Crito. Then let him look to it: if he persists in saying all he pleases, I will make him hear something that will not please him. Do I interfere in this affair? what have I to do with it? Can you not bear your disappointment patiently. As for what I assert, it is easy enough to ascertain whether it is true or false. Some years ago, a certain Athenian was shipwrecked, and cast upon the isle of Andros: he was accompanied by this very Glycera, who was then an infant: and, in great distress, applied for assistance to the father of Chrysis.
Simo. Now he begins a tale.
Chremes. Suffer him to speak.
Crito. What! will he interrupt me?
Chremes. (to Crito.) Pray proceed.
Crito. Chrysis’ father, who received[203] him, was my relation: and, at his house, I’ve heard that shipwrecked stranger say, that he was an Athenian: he died in Andros.
Chremes. (eagerly.) His name was ——
Crito. His name so quickly. Phania.
Chremes. Ah!