_Chr._ I do not wish to seem to meddle in your affairs. _Gor._ No matter for that. _Chr._ Believe me, that, if I interfere, It is for your good. _Gor._ I know, sir, and thank you very kindly. _Chr._ I broach the matter at once; my maxim has always been, _Straight to the business._ _Gor._ Well, I don’t dislike you for that. _Chr._ Then am I not right in thinking you have never so much as met 611 Old Menedemus? _Gor._ No. _Chr._ You have not? _Gor._ No. _Chr._ Stay. Perhaps You don’t know who I mean. _Gor._ He’s whatdyecallem’s father. _Chr._ (_aside_). Whatdyecallem! well!—He is Clinia’s father; yes. _Gor._ What of him? _Chr._ Why ’tis thus. (_aside_) What was I going to say? _Gor._ Go on, sir. _Chr._ Ay, the long and the short of the matter is this. I know your story—let me see—do I know your name? _Gor._ Gorgo. _Chr._ Ay, to be sure. Well, Gorgo, I know your story, But do not charge on you the unhappy consequence Of a rash attachment. No. Young men will be young men, 640 And women are—women; no blame to them. But the fact is this: That being on intimate terms with Clinia’s family, I have been entrusted by them, as one unprejudiced, To enquire, to judge & advise, and, if I can, to find A _Modus vivendi_: you, Gorgo, of course are well aware That your lover, whose absence has had no doubt its effect on you— That Clinia’s running away from home, I say, was due To his father’s disapproval of your attachment: that Gave rise to disagreement; and Clinia, balancing ’Twixt love & duty, fled from home, & is now abroad, Madly risking his life in Asia. Why do you laugh? _Gor._ Indeed, sir, I was not laughing. _Chr._ The shock this gave his father Betrayed at last the affection he really bore his son: It measures too the mischief—shows his purpose too, And strong determination. He sold his house in town, Retired from life & pleasure—bought a farm out here, And works upon it from morning till night like a common drudge. There’s nothing to laugh at. _Gor._ Excuse me, sir, I was only thinking Of something very ridiculous.