Phor. And had a daughter by her, too, while you never dreamed of it.
Chrem. What are we to do?
Naus. O immortal Gods!—a disgraceful and a wicked misdeed!
Dem. (aside, to Chremes.) It’s all up with you.
Phor. Was ever any thing now more ungenerously done? Your men, who, when they come to their wives, then become incapacitated from old age.
Naus. Demipho, I appeal to you; for with that man it is irksome for me to speak. Were these those frequent journeys and long visits at Lemnos? Was this the lowness of prices that reduced our rents?
Dem. Nausistrata, I don’t deny that in this matter he has been deserving of censure; but still, it may be pardoned.
Phor. (apart.) He is talking to the dead.
Dem. For he did this neither through neglect or aversion to yourself. About fifteen years since, in a drunken fit, he had an intrigue with this poor woman, of whom this girl was born, nor did he ever touch her afterward. She is dead and gone: the only difficulty that remained in this matter. Wherefore, I do beg of you, that, as in other things, you’ll bear this with patience.
Naus. Why should I with patience? I could wish, afflicted as I am, that there were an end now of this matter. But how can I hope? Am I to suppose that, at his age, he will not offend in future? Was he not an old man then, if old age makes people behave themselves decently? Are my looks and my age more attractive now, Demipho? What do you advance to me, to make me expect or hope that this will not happen any more?