The Dionysia are held here to-day,
If ’tis convenient, come, and feast with me.
Mene. Impossible.
Chrem. Why so?—Nay, prithee now,
Indulge yourself a while: your absent son,
I’m sure, would have it so.
Mene. It is not meet,
That I, who drove him forth to misery,
Should fly it now myself.
Chrem. You are resolv’d?