MEN. I have an only son,-- a young man,-- alas! why did I say --“I have?”-- rather {I should say}, “I had” {one}, Chremes: --whether I have him now, or not, is uncertain. CHREM. Why so? MEN. You shall know:-- There is a poor old woman here, a stranger from Corinth:-- her daughter, a young woman, he fell in love with, insomuch that he almost regarded her as his wife; all this {took place} unknown to me. When I discovered the matter, I began to reprove him, not with gentleness, nor in the way suited to the love-sick mind of a youth, but with violence, and after the usual method of fathers. I was daily reproaching him,-- “Look you, do you expect to be allowed any longer to act thus, myself, your father, being alive; to be keeping a mistress pretty much as though your wife? You are mistaken, Clinia, and you don’t know me, if you fancy that. I am willing that you should be called my {son}, just as long as you do what becomes you; but if you do not do so, I shall find out how it becomes me to act toward you. This arises from nothing, in fact, but too much idleness. At your time of life, I did not devote my time to dalliance, but, in consequence of my poverty, departed hence for Asia, and there acquired in arms both riches and military glory.” At length the matter came to this,-- the youth, from hearing the same things so often, and with such severity, was overcome. He supposed that I, through age and affection, had more judgment and foresight for him than himself. He went off to Asia, Chremes, to serve under the king. CHREM. What is it you say? MEN. He departed without my knowledge-- {and} has been gone these three months. CHREM. Both are to be blamed-- although {I} still {think} this step shows an ingenuous and enterprising disposition.