But if their union promises more harm
Than good to both, you also, I beseech you,
Consult our common interest, as if
You were her father, Pamphilus my son.
Simo. E’en in that spirit, I desire it, Chremes,
Entreat it may be done; nor would entreat,
But that occasion urges.
Chremes. What occasion?
Simo. A diff’rence ’twixt Glycerium and my son.
Chremes. I hear. (Ironically.)