Of gentleness and modesty, than fear. And yet my brother don't accord in this, Nor do these notions nor this conduct please him. Oft he comes open-mouth'd--"Why how now, Micio? Why do you ruin this young lad of ours? Why does he wench? why drink? and why do you Allow him money to afford all this? You let him dress too fine. 'Tis idle in you." --'Tis hard in him, unjust and out of reason. And he, I think, deceives himself indeed, Who fancies that authority more firm Founded on force, than what is built on friendship; For thus I reason, thus persuade myself: He who performs his duty driven to't By fear of punishment, while he believes His actions are observ'd, so long he's wary; But if he hopes for secrecy, returns To his own ways again: But he whom kindness, Him also inclination makes your own: He burns to make a due return, and acts, Present or absent, evermore the same. 'Tis this then is the duty of a father, To make a son embrace a life of virtue, Rather from choice than terror or constraint. Here lies the mighty difference between A father and a master. He who knows not How to do this, let him confess he knows not How to rule children.--But is this the man Whom I was speaking of? Yes, yes, 'tis he. He seems uneasy too, I know not why, And I suppose, as usual, comes to wrangle. [Changes: _quotation marks at mid-speech supplied from 1768 edition_ _Harper_ [beginning of speech, through line --Gods, that a man ...] _Colman 1768_ Ho, Storax!--No reply?--Then Aeschinus Never return'd, it seems, last night from supper; Nor any of the slaves, who went to meet him. --'Tis commonly--and oh how truly!--said, If you are absent, or delay, 'twere best That should befall you, which your wife declares Or which in anger she supposes of you Than that which kindest parents fear.--Your wife, If you delay, suspects that you're engag'd In some intrigue, debauch, or entertainment; Consulting your own happiness abroad, While she, poor soul! is left to pine at home. But what a world of fears possess me now! How many ills I figure to myself, As causes that my son is not return'd! Lest he have taken cold, or had a fall, Or broke a limb!--Good heavens! that a man Shou'd doat so much, or suffer any one] SCENE II. _Enter DEMEA._ MICIO. Demea, I'm glad to see you well. DEMEA. Oho! Well met: the very man I came to seek. MICIO. But you appear uneasy: What's the matter? DEMEA. Is it a question, when there's AEschinus To trouble us, what makes me so uneasy? MICIO. I said it would be so.--What has he done? DEMEA. What has he done? a wretch, whom neither ties Of shame, nor fear, nor any law can bind! For not to speak of all his former pranks, What has he been about but even now! MICIO. What has he done?