t I see, or no?

BACCH. Whom do you see?

CLIN. Welcome my soul! (_Running up to her._)

ANTI. My wish'd-for Clinia, welcome!

CLIN. How fares my love?

ANTI. O'erjoyed at your return.

CLIN. And do I hold thee, my Antiphila,
Thou only wish and comfort of my soul!

SYRUS. In, in, for you have made our good man wait. (_Exeunt._

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

CHREM. 'Tis now just daybreak.--Why delay I then
To call my neighbor forth, and be the first
To tell him of his son's return?--The youth,
I understand, would fain not have it so.
But shall I, when I see this poor old man
Afflict himself so grievously, by silence
Rob him of such an unexpected joy,
When the discov'ry can not hurt the son?
No, I'll not do't; but far as in my pow'r
Assist the father. As my son, I see,
Ministers to th' occasions of his friend,
Associated in counsels, rank, and age,
So we old men should serve each other too.

SCENE II.

_Enter MENEDEMUS._

MENE. (_to himself_). Sure I'm by nature form'd for misery
Beyond the rest of humankind, or else
'Tis a false saying, though a common one,
"That time assuages grief." For ev'ry day
My sorrow for the absence of my son
Grows on my mind: the longer he's away,
The more impatiently I wish to see him,
The more pine after him.

CHREM. But he's come forth. (_Seeing MENEDEMUS._)
Yonder he stands. I'll go and speak with him.
Good-morrow, neighbor! I have news for you;
Such news as you'll be overjoy'd to hear.

MENE. Of my son, Chremes?

CHREM. He's alive and well.

MENE. Where?

CHREM. At my house.

MENE. My son?

CHREM. Your son.

MENE. Come home?

CHREM. Come home.

MENE. My dear boy come? my Clinia?

CHREM. He.

MENE. Away then! prithee, bring me to him.

CHREM. Hold!
He cares not you should know of his return,
And dreads your sight because of his late trespass.
He fears, besides, your old severity
Is now augmented.

MENE. Did not you inform him
The bent of my affections?

CHREM. Not I.

MENE. Wherefore, Chremes?

CHREM. Because 'twould injure both yourself and him
To seem of such a poor and broken spirit.

MENE. I can not help it. Too long, much too long,
I've been a cruel father.

CHREM. Ah, my friend,
You run into extremes; too niggardly,
Or, too profuse; imprudent either way.
First, rather than permit him entertain
A mistress, who was then content with little,
And glad of any thing, you drove him hence:
Whereon the girl was forc'd agains