Chrem. O Jupiter!
Cri. Many other persons in Andros have heard the same, Chremes.
Chrem. (aside.) I trust it may turn out as I hope. (To Crito.) Come now, tell me, what did he then say about her? Did he say she was his own daughter?
Cri. No.
Chrem. Whose then?
Cri. His brother’s daughter.
Chrem. She certainly is mine.
Cri. What do you say?
Sim. What is this that you say?
Pam. (aside.) Prick up your ears, Pamphilus.