Phor. (in a loud voice.) Those who have[89] a mind to come to the funeral of Chremes, why now’s their time. ’Tis thus I retaliate: come now, let him challenge Phormio who pleases: I’ll have him victimized[90] with just a like mischance. Why then, let him return again into her good graces. I have now had revenge enough. She has got something for her as long as she lives, to be forever ringing into his ears.
Naus. But it was because I deserved this, I suppose; why should I now, Demipho, make mention of each particular, how I have conducted myself toward him?
Dem. I know it all, as well as yourself.
Naus. Does it appear, then, that I deserved this treatment?
Dem. Far from it: but since, by reproaching, it can not now be undone, forgive him: he entreats you—he begs your pardon—owns his fault—makes an apology. What would you have more?
Phor. (aside.) But really, before she grants pardon to him, I must take care of myself and Phædria. (To Nausistrata.) Hark you, Nausistrata, before you answer him without thinking, listen to me.
Naus. What’s the matter?
Phor. I got out of him thirty minæ by a stratagem. I give them to your son; he paid them to a Procurer for his mistress.
Chrem. Ha! what is it you say?
Phor. (sneeringly.) Does it seem to you so very improper for your son, a young man, to keep one mistress, while you have two wives? Are you ashamed of nothing? With what face will you censure him? Answer me that.