CHREM. Oh, you persist in being the woman? Did I ever wish for any one thing in {all} my life, Sostrata, but that you were my contradicter on that occasion? And yet if I were now to ask you what it is that I have done amiss, or why you act thus, you would not know in what point you are now so obstinately opposing me in your folly. SOS. I, not know? CHREM. Yes, rather, {I should have said} you do know; inasmuch as either expression amounts to the same thing.[101] SOS. Alas! you are unreasonable to expect me to be silent in a matter of such importance. CHREM. I don’t expect it; talk on then, I shall still do it not a bit the less. SOS. Will you do it? CHREM. Certainly. SOS. Don’t you see how much evil you will be causing by that course? --He suspects himself {to be} a foundling. CHREM. Do you say {so}? SOS. Assuredly it will be so. CHREM. Admit it. SOS. Hold {now}-- prithee, let that be for our enemies. Am I to admit that he is not my son who {really} is? CHREM. What! are you afraid that you can not prove that he is yours, whenever you please? SOS. Because my daughter has been found?[102] CHREM. No; but for {a reason} why it should be much sooner believed-- because he is just like you in disposition, you will easily prove that he is your child; for he is exactly like you; why, he has not a single vice left him but you have just the same. Then, besides, no woman could have been the mother of such a son but yourself. But he’s coming out of doors, {and} how demure! When you understand the matter, you may form your own conclusions. SCENE IV. _Enter CLITIPHO from the house of CHREMES._ CLIT. If there ever was any time, mother, when I caused you pleasure, being called your son by your own desire, I beseech you to remember it, and now to take compassion on me in my distress. A thing I beg and request-- do discover to me my parents. SOS. I conjure you, my son, not to entertain that {notion} in your mind, that you are another person’s child. CLIT. I am. SOS. Wretch that I am! (_Turning to CHREMES._) Was it this that you wanted, pray? (_To CLITIPHO._) So may you be the survivor of me and of him, you are my son and his; and henceforth, if you love me, take care that I never hear that speech from you {again}. CHREM. But I {say}, if you fear me, take care how I find these propensities existing in you. CLIT. What {propensities}? CHREM. If you wish to know, I’ll tell you; being a trifler, an idler, a cheat, a glutton, a debauchee, a spendthrift-- Believe me, and believe that you are our {son}. CLIT. This is not the language of a parent. CHREM. If you had been born from my head, Clitipho, just as they say Minerva was from Jove’s, none the more on that account would I suffer myself to be disgraced by your profligacy.[103] SOS. May the Gods forbid it.