Clit. ’Tis like.
Syrus. Think you this fault so angers him?
Clit. I think not.
Syrus. Consider too; ’tis ever found that mothers
Plead for their sons, and in the father’s wrath
Defend them. ’Tis not so at present.
Clit. True.
What shall I do then, Syrus?
Syrus. Ask of them
The truth of this suspicion. Speak your thoughts.