ady capable of undertaking the governance of his own life. This
pleased me, and every body with one voice {began} to say all {kinds
of} flattering things, and to extol my {good} fortune, in having a son
endowed with such a disposition. What need is there of talking?
Chremes, influenced by this report, came to me of his own accord, to
offer his only daughter as a wife to my son, with a very large
portion. It pleased me; I betrothed him; this was the day appointed
for the nuptials.

SOS. What then stands in the way? Why should they not take place?

SIM. You shall hear. In about a few days after these things had been
agreed on, Chrysis, this neighbor, dies.

SOS. Bravo! You've made me happy. I was afraid for him on account of
Chrysis.

SIM. Then my son was often there, with those who had admired Chrysis;
with them he took charge of the funeral; sorrowful, in the mean time,
he sometimes wept {with them} in condolence. Then that pleased me.
Thus I reflected: "He by reason of this slight intimacy takes her
death so much to heart; what if he himself had wooed her? What will he
do for me his father?" All these things I took to be the duties of a
humane disposition and of tender feelings. Why do I detain you with
many {words}? Even I myself,[35] for his sake, went forth to the
funeral, as yet suspecting no harm.

SOS. Ha! what is this?

SIM. You shall know. She is brought out; we proceed. In the mean time,
among the females who were there present, I saw by chance one young
woman of beauteous form.

SOS. Very likely.

SIM. And of countenance, Sosia, so modest, so charming, that nothing
could surpass. As she appeared to me to lament beyond the rest, and as
she was of a figure handsome and genteel beyond the other women,
I approached the female attendants;[36] I inquired who she was. They
said that she was the sister of Chrysis. It instantly struck my mind:
"Ay, ay, this is it; hence those tears, hence that sympathy."

SOS. How I dread what you are coming to!

SIM. The funeral procession meanwhile advances; we follow; we come to
the burying-place.[37] She is placed upon the pile; they weep. In the
mean time, this sister, whom I mentioned, approached the flames too
incautiously, with considerable danger. There, at that moment,
Pamphilus, in his extreme alarm, discovers his well-dissembled and
long-hidden passion; he runs up, clasps the damsel by the waist. "My
Glycerium," says he, "what are you doing? Why are you going