Chr. Forbear, I say;
Speak calmly to him, without rhapsody.
Sim. If it were possible with what he has done—
Say is Glycerium a citizen?
Pam. They so affirm.
Sim. They so affirm; do they?
A most outrageous impudence—is there
A falter in his voice—blush on his brow?
Is there a sign of penitence or shame?
Ah! can it be? so impotent of mind,
So callous to the laws, so hostile to
His filial obedience—father's hopes—
To wed to ignominy and disgrace.
Pam. I am most wretched.
Sim. Do you, Pamphilus,
Learn that to-day?—You should have wretched been
Before you gave unbridled passion reins.
Now truly may you say you're miserable.
But wherefore do I trouble so my soul—
Wherefore torment my mind—excruciate
My old age—weary me to madness—
Shall I endure the penalties for him?
No; let him troop and go and—live with her.
Pam. My Father!
Sim. Ay, my Father; as though you
Needed a father: you have house and home
And wife and child, and all against his will.
You bring your sycophants to prove that she
Is a free-born of Attica. I yield.
Pam. Father, will you permit me a few words?
Sim. Wherefore—what words?
Chr. Yet, Simo, let him speak.
