Mic. Yes.
Æsch. (aside.) I’m overwhelmed with grief. (To Micio.) But what of them? What do they say?
Mic. What do you suppose they should? Why, nothing at all. The mother has trumped up a tale, that there is a child by some other man, I know not who, and she does not state the name; she says that he was the first, and that she ought not to be given to the other.
Æsch. Well now, does not this seem just to you after all?
Mic. No.
Æsch. Why not, pray? Is the other to be carrying her away from here?
Mic. Why should he not take her?
Æsch. You have acted harshly and unfeelingly, and even, if, father, I may speak my sentiments more plainly, unhandsomely.
Mic. Why so?
Æsch. Do you ask me? Pray, what do you think must be the state of mind of the man who was first connected with her, who, to his misfortune, may perhaps still love her to distraction, when he sees her torn away from before his face, and borne off from his sight forever? An unworthy action, father!