Dem. (pushing him away). If you were my slave, sirrah—
Syr. You'd be lucky—
You'd have a (hiccup) treasure—save you half your income.
Dem. (shaking his stick at him). I'd make an example of ye!
(Enter Dromo, another slave, running from the house.)
Dro. Hallo—Syrus!
Ctesipho wants ye!
Syr. (aside to him). Hush-sh! away, you fool!
Dem. Ctesipho!—here?
Syr. N-no, n-no, sir!—it's not him,
It's—it's—another young man—a little parasite—
Of the same name.—You know him, don't you, sir?
Dem. I very soon will, at any rate (making for the house).
Syr. (trying to hold him back). Stop, sir, stop!
But the father has heard enough to open his eyes. He rushes in, spite of Syrus's drunken efforts to stop him, and makes at last full discovery of how he has been deceived. Micio succeeds in soothing him in some degree, by assuring him that his own fortune is ample enough to supply both the young men's wants; that he will give a dowry also to Ctesipho with his beloved, and see him married respectably.
The failure of his own system, and the placid triumph of his easy brother, work an odd transformation in Demea's behaviour. He meets this "irony of events" by a curious irony of his own. Since easy temper is the mode, he will at once adopt it. He begins by shaking hands with Syrus, and thanking him for his admirable conduct—he will certainly do something for him. Then he meets Geta, and shakes
