Look in his face, and you may guess his plight.

[ SCENE VII.]

Enter Clitipho.

Clit. Oh mother, if there ever was a time

When you took pleasure in me, or delight

To call me son, beseech you, think of that;

Pity my present misery, and tell me

Who are my real parents!

Sostra. My dear son,

Take not, I beg, that notion to your mind,