Who came to frighten me.
Clin.I hope I need not tell you, father,
I never wished that done. I feared you might be grieved:
But Chremes being so sure you never would forgive me . . .
Men. Was he?
Clin.He said you told him.
Men.Did he? He has been to blame.
There’s much he will have to explain to me, which he will not wish
Another to hear. Retire to the garden, while I go
And smooth things over with him, and ask his daughter’s hand.