If you’d save me, my fortune, and my son,
That I have settled all I have upon her.
Mene. What mean you?
Chrem. Counterfeit amazement too,
And question Clitipho my reason for it.
Mene. Nay, but I really do not know your reason.
Chrem. My reason for it?—That his wanton mind,
Now flush’d with lux’ry and lasciviousness,
I may o’erwhelm: and bring him down so low,
He may not know which way to turn himself.