griev'd at their extravagance,
Let this reflection calm you! Formerly,
You bred them both according to your fortune,
Supposing it sufficient for them both:
Then too you thought that I should take a wife.
Still follow the old rule you then laid down:
Hoard, scrape, and save; do ev'ry thing you can
To leave them nobly! Be that glory yours.
My fortune, fall'n beyond their hopes upon them,
Let them use freely! As your capital
Will not be wasted, what addition comes
From mine, consider as clear gain: and thus,
Weighing all this impartially, you'll spare
Yourself, and me, and them, a world of trouble.

DEM. Money is not the thing: their morals----

MICIO. Hold!
I understand; and meant to speak of that.
There are in nature sundry marks, good Demea,
By which you may conjecture easily,
That when two persons do the self-same thing,
It oftentimes falls out that in the one
'Tis criminal, in t'other 'tis not so:
Not that the thing itself is different,
But he who does it.--In these youths I see
The marks of virtue; and, I trust, they'll prove
Such as we wish them. They have sense, I know;
Attention; in its season, liberal shame;
And fondness for each other; all sure signs
Of an ingenuous mind and noble nature:
And though they stray, you may at any time
Reclaim them.--But perhaps you fear they'll prove
Too inattentive to their interest.
Oh my dear Demea, in all matters else
Increase of years increases wisdom in us:
This only vice age brings along with it;
"We're all more worldly-minded than there's need:"
Which passion age, that kills all passions else,
Will ripen in your sons too.

DEM. Have a care
That these fine arguments and this great mildness
Don't prove the ruin of us, Micio.

MICIO. Peace!
It shall not be: away with all your fears!
This day be rul'd by me: come, smooth your brow.

DEM. Well, since at present things are so, I must,
But then I'll to the country with my son
To-morrow, at first peep of day.

MICIO. At midnight,
So you'll but smile to-day.

DEM. And that wench too
I'll drag away with me.

MICIO. Aye; there you've hit it.
For by that means you'll keep your son at home;
Do but secure her.

DEM. I'll see that: for there
I'll put her in the kitchen and the mill,
And make her full of ashes, smoke, and meal:
Nay at high noon too she shall gather stubble.
I'll burn her up, and make her black as coal.

MICIO. Right! now you're wise.--And then I'd make my son
Go to bed to her, though against