ENTER _Mnesilochus_ FROM _Bacchis’s_ HOUSE.
_Mnes._
Petulans, protervo iracundo animo, indomito incogitato,
sine modo et modestia sum, sine bono iure atque honore,
incredibilis imposque animi, inamabilis inlepidus vivo,
malevolente ingenio natus. postremo id mi est quod volo
ego esse aliis. credibile hoc est?
nequior nemost neque indignior quoi
di bene faciant neque quem quisquam
homo aut amet aut adeat.
A hasty fool, a reckless, passionate, uncontrollable,
unthinking fool without method and moderation, that’s what I
am--a creature without any sense of right and honour,
distrustful, hotheaded, loveless, graceless, crabbed and
born crabbed! Yes, yes, I’m everything that I wish some one
else was! Is this credible? There’s not a viler man alive, a
man more unworthy of heaven’s kindness, of having a mortal
soul love him or come near him!
inimicos quam amicos aequomst med habere,
malos quam bonos par magis me iuvare.
omnibus probris, quae improbis viris 620
digna sunt, dignior nullus est homo;
qui patri reddidi omne aurum amans, mihi
quod fuit prae manu. sumne ego homo miser?
perdidi me simulque operam Chrysali.
Enemies are what I ought to have, not friends; rascals are
the right people to help me, not honest men. Not a man on
earth has a better title to all the infamy of an infamous
scoundrel! I to give all that gold to my father, and I in
love--gold I had in hand! If I’m not a poor, poor fool! I’ve
thrown away my own life together with all Chrysalus did for
me.
_Pistoc._
Consolandus his mist, ibo ad eum.
Mnesiloche, quid fit?
(_aside_) I must console him: I’ll up to him. (_aloud,
approaching_) How are things, Mnesilochus?
_Mnes._
Perii.
I’m done for.
_Pistoc._
Di melius faciant.
God forbid!
_Mnes._
Perii.
(_still more dejectedly_) I’m done for.
_Pistoc._
Non taces, insipiens?
Won’t you shut up, you silly fellow?
_Mnes._
Taceam?
Shut up?
_Pistoc._
Sanus satis non est.
You’ve lost your wits.
_Mnes._
Perii.
multa mala mi in pectore nunc acria atque acerba eveniunt.
criminin me habuisse fidem? immerito tibi iratus fui.
I’m done for. Oh, the confounded thoughts that crowd in on
me now, exasperating, excruciating! To have credited that
accusation! I had no reason to be angry with you.
_Pistoc._
Heia, bonum habe animum.
Oh well, cheer up.
_Mnes._
Unde habeam? mortuos pluris pretist 630
quam ego sum.
Where can I get cheer? A corpse is worth more than I am.
_Pistoc._
Militis parasitus venerat modo aurum petere hinc,
eum ego meis dictis malis his foribus atque hac platea abegi;
reppuli, reieci hominem.
(_encouragingly_) The Captain’s parasite has just been here
after the money: I let him have a volley of abuse and drove
him away up the street here. I fought him off, flung him
back.
_Mnes._
Quid mi id prodest? quom ipse veniet,
quid faciam? nil habeo miser. ille quidem hanc abducet, scio.
(_disconsolate_) What’s the good of that to me? When he
comes himself, what shall I do? I haven’t a penny, wretch
that I am! Of course he’ll carry her off, I know that.
_Pistoc._
Si mihi sit, non pollicear.
If I had any money myself, I wouldn’t promise it to you.
_Mnes._
Scio, dares, novi tuom.
sed nisi ames, non habeam tibi fidem tantam; eo quod amas tamen
nunc agitas sat tute tuarum rerum; sin liber sies
egone ut opem mi ferre posse putem inopem te? non potest.
I know, you’d give it to me: I know your way. If you weren’t
in love yourself, though, I shouldn’t have such confidence
in you. Being in love, however, you have troubles enough of
your own as it is. But even if you were fancy free, could I
think you able to supply me, unsupplied as you are yourself?
Impossible!
_Pistoc._
Tace modo: deus respiciet nos aliquis.
Oh, do shut up: some god will look out for us.
_Mnes._
Nugae. vale.
Rubbish! (_despairingly, moving off_) Farewell!
_Pistoc._
Mane.
(_looking down street_) Wait.
_Mnes._
Quid est?
What’s the matter?
_Pistoc._
Tuam copiam eccam Chrysalum video. tace.
(_pointing_) Look! I see your supply station, Chrysalus.
Sh--h! (_they withdraw_).
IV. 4.