given me a boy in those days, to be reared as mine own foster-son?
He. What now? Why dost thou ask the question?
Me. Yonder man, my friend, is he who then was young.
He. Plague seize thee—be silent once for all!
Oe. Ha! chide him not, old man—thy words need chiding more than his.
He. And wherein, most noble master, do I offend?
Oe. In not telling of the boy concerning whom he asks.1150
He. He speaks without knowledge—he is busy to no purpose.
Oe. Thou wilt not speak with a good grace, but thou shalt on pain.
He. Nay, for the gods' love, misuse not an old man!
Oe. Ho, some one—pinion him this instant!
He. Alas, wherefore? what more wouldst thou learn?
Oe. Didst thou give this man the child of whom he asks?
He. I did,—and would I had perished that day!
Oe. Well, thou wilt come to that, unless thou tell the honest truth.
He. Nay, much more am I lost, if I speak.
Oe. The fellow is bent, methinks, on more delays…1160
He. No, no!—I said before that I gave it to him.
Oe. Whence hadst thou got it? In thine own house, or from another?
