Sos. Hold now—prithee, let that be for our enemies. Am I to admit that he is not my son who really is?
Chrem. What! are you afraid that you can not prove that he is yours, whenever you please?
Sos. Because my daughter has been found?[102]
Chrem. No; but for a reason why it should be much sooner believed—because he is just like you in disposition, you will easily prove that he is your child; for he is exactly like you; why, he has not a single vice left him but you have just the same. Then, besides, no woman could have been the mother of such a son but yourself. But he’s coming out of doors, and how demure! When you understand the matter, you may form your own conclusions.
[ Scene IV.]
Enter Clitipho from the house of Chremes.
Clit. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caused you pleasure, being called your son by your own desire, I beseech you to remember it, and now to take compassion on me in my distress. A thing I beg and request—do discover to me my parents.
Sos. I conjure you, my son, not to entertain that notion in your mind, that you are another person’s child.
Clit. I am.
Sos. Wretch that I am! (Turning to Chremes.) Was it this that you wanted, pray? (To Clitipho.) So may you be the survivor of me and of him, you are my son and his; and henceforth, if you love me, take care that I never hear that speech from you again.