his family half dead;
And carried off a wench whom he was fond of.
The whole town cries out shame upon him, Micio.
I have been told of it a hundred times
Since my arrival. 'Tis the common talk.----
And if we needs must draw comparisons,
Does not he see his brother thrifty, sober,
Attentive to his business in the country?
Not given to these practices; and when
I say all this to him, to you I say it.
You are his ruin, Micio.

MICIO. How unjust
Is he who wants experience! who believes
Nothing is right but what he does himself!

DEMEA. Why d'ye say that?

MICIO. Because you, Demea,
Judge wrongly of these matters. 'Tis no crime
For a young man to wench or drink.--'Tis not,
Believe me!--nor to force doors open.--This,
If neither you nor I have done, it was
That poverty allow'd us not. And now
You claim a merit to yourself, from that
Which want constrain'd you to. It is not fair.
For had there been but wherewithal to do't,
We likewise should have done thus. Wherefore you,
Were you a man, would let your younger son,
Now, while it suits his age, pursue his pleasures;
Rather than, when it less becomes his years,
When, after wishing long, he shall at last
Be rid of you, he should run riot then.

DEMEA. Oh Jupiter! the man will drive me mad.
Is it no crime, d'ye say, for a young man
To take these courses?

MICIO. Nay, nay; do but hear me,
Nor stun me with the self-same thing forever!
Your elder son you gave me for adoption:
He's mine, then, Demea; and if he offends,
'Tis an offense to me, and I must bear
The burden. Does he treat? or drink? or dress?
'Tis at my cost.--Or wench? I will supply him,
While 'tis convenient to me; when 'tis not,
His mistresses perhaps will shut him out.
--Has he broke open doors? we'll make them good.
Or torn a coat? it shall be mended. I,
Thank Heaven, have enough to do all this,
And 'tis as yet not irksome.--In a word,
Or cease, or choose some arbiter between us:
I'll prove that you are more in fault than I.

DEMEA. Ah, learn to be a father; learn from those
Who know what 'tis to be indeed a parent!

MICIO. By nature you're his father, I by counsel.

DEMEA. You! do you counsel any thing?

MICIO. Nay, nay;
If you persist, I'm gone.

DEMEA. Is't thus you treat me?

MICIO. Must I still hear the same thing o'er and o'er?

DEMEA. It touches me.

MICIO. And me it touches too.
But, Demea, let us each look to our own;
Let me take care of one, and mind you t'other.
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