My sorrow for the absence of my son
Grows on my mind: the longer he’s away,
The more impatiently I wish to see him,
The more pine after him.
Chrem. But he’s come forth. (Seeing Menedemus.)
Yonder he stands. I’ll go and speak with him.
Good-morrow, neighbor! I have news for you;
Such news as you’ll be overjoy’d to hear.
Mene. Of my son, Chremes?
Chrem. He’s alive and well.