Dem. May the Gods confound you!
Phor. You’d have been the first, from memory, to trace your line of kindred, even as far back as from grandfather and great-grandfather.
Dem. Very likely what you say. In that case, when I had undertaken it, I should have shown how she was related to me; do you do the same: tell me, how is she related to me?
Geta. Well done, my master, that’s right! (Threateningly to Phormio.) Hark you, take you care.
Phor. I’ve already made the matter quite plain where I ought, before the judges; besides, if it was untrue, why didn’t your son disprove it?
Dem. Do you talk about my son to me? Of whose folly there is no speaking in the language it deserves.
Phor. Then do you, who are so wise, go to the magistrates, that for you they may give a second decision in the same cause, since you reign alone[54] here, and are the only man allowed to get a second trial in the same cause.
Dem. Although wrong has been done me, still, however, rather than engage in litigation, or listen to you, just as though she had been my relation, as the law orders one to find her a portion, rid me of her, and take five minæ.
Phor. (laughing.) Ha, ha, ha! a pleasant individual!
Dem. Well! am I asking any thing unfair? Or am I not to obtain even this, which is my right at common law?