To the end of the garden and looked.—Surely I was either born920
With a mind most singularly sensible of grief, or else
The saying is not true that time is sorrow’s cure.
My sorrow rather increases upon me every day,
And the longer he is away the more do I yearn for him,
And miss him.
Re-enter Chremes from Menedemus’ house.
Chr. (aside). Why here he is, just when I’d given him up.—
O Menedemus!
Men.What is the matter?