ENTER _Nicobulus_ BRINGING SLAVE OVERSEER AND OTHER SLAVES.
_Nic._
Constringe tu illi, Artamo, actutum manus.
(_to overseer_) Quick, Artamo, fasten his hands there!
_Chrys._
Quid feci?
(_as Artamo obeys_) What have I done?
_Nic._
Impinge pugnum, si muttiverit. 800
quid hae locuntur litterae?
(_to Artamo_) Plant your fists in his face, if he breathes
a word. (_to Chrysalus_) What does this letter say?
_Chrys._
Quid me rogas?
ut ab illo accepi, ad te obsignatas attuli.
What are you asking me for? I took it from him and brought
it to you just as it was, all sealed.
_Nic._
Eho tu,[22] loquitatusne es gnato meo
male per sermonem, quia mi id aurum reddidit,
et te dixisti id aurum ablaturum tamen
per sycophantiam?
Oho, you! So you have been giving my son the rough side of
your tongue, because he handed over that gold to me? Said
you’d take it from me just the same by some rascally scheme,
eh?
_Chrys._
Egone istuc dixi?
I said that, I?
_Nic._
Ita.
Just so.
_Chrys._
Quis homost qui dicat me dixisse istuc?
Who’s the man says I said that?
_Nic._
Tace,
nullus homo dicit: hae tabellae te arguont,
quas tu attulisti. em hae te vinciri iubent.
Silence! No man says it: this letter indicts you, the one
you brought yourself. (_showing it_) There! This orders
you to be tied up.
_Chrys._
Aha, Bellorophontem tuos me fecit filius: 810
egomet tabellas tetuli ut vincirer. sine.
(_resignedly_) Aha! Your son has made a Bellerophon[J] of
me: I myself brought the letter to have myself tied up.
(_dangerously_) Very well!
[Footnote J: Who carried a letter which was to be his
own death warrant]
_Nic._
Propterea hoc facio, ut suadeas gnato meo
ut pergraecetur tecum, tervenefice.
(_ironically_)) I do this merely to make you persuade my son
to join you in riotous living, you soulless villain.
_Chrys._
O stulte, stulte, nescis nunc venire te;
atque in eopse adstas lapide, ut praeco praedicat.
Oh, you poor poor fool, you don’t know you’re being sold
this moment; and here you are standing on the very block
with the crier crying you!
_Nic._
Responde: quis me vendit?
(_mystified_) Answer! Who is selling me?
_Chrys._
Quem di diligunt
adulescens moritur, dum valet sentit sapit.
hunc si ullus deus amaret, plus annis decem,
plus iam viginti mortuom esse oportuit:
terrai odium ambulat, iam nil sapit 820
nec sentit, tantist quantist fungus putidus.
(_sneeringly_) He whom the gods love dies young, while he
has his strength and senses and wits. If any god loved this
fellow, (_indicating Nicobulus_) it’s more than ten years,
more than twenty years ago, he ought to have died. He
ambles along encumbering the earth, absolutely witless
and senseless already, worth about as much as a mushroom--
a rotten one.
_Nic._
Tun terrae me odium esse autumas? abducite hunc
intro atque adstringite ad columnam fortiter.
numquam auferes hinc aurum.
(_furious_) So I encumber the earth, do I, according to you?
(_to Artamo and slaves_) March him off inside! yes, and tie
him to a pillar--tight! (_to Chrysalus_) You shall never
take that gold away from me.
_Chrys._
At qui iam dabis.
(_mysteriously_) However, you’ll soon give it away.
_Nic._
Dabo?
I give it away?
_Chrys._
Atque orabis me quidem ultro ut auferam,
cum illum rescisces criminatorem meum
quanto in periclo et quanta in pernicie siet.
tum libertatem Chrysalo largibere;
ego adeo numquam accipiam.
Yes, and beg me, beg me of your own accord, to take it away,
when you learn about that accuser of mine and what danger,
what deadly danger, he’s in. Then you’ll be all for
liberating Chrysalus; but not for me, I won’t be liberated.
_Nic._
Dic, scelerum caput,
dic, quo in periclo est meus Mnesilochus filius? 830
Speak, you fount of iniquity, speak--what danger is my son
Mnesilochus in?
_Chrys._
Sequere hac me, faxo iam scies.
(_going toward Bacchis’s house_) This way; follow me: I’ll
soon let you know.
_Nic._
Quo gentium?
(_following_) Where on earth are you taking me?
_Chrys._
Tres unos passus.
Three steps merely.
_Nic._
Vel decem.
Ten, for that matter.
_Chrys._
Agedum tu, Artamo,
forem hanc pauxillum aperi; placide, ne crepa;
sat est. accede huc tu. viden convivium?
Come on now, you, Artamo; open this door a tiny bit; easy,
don’t make it creak. (_Artamo obeys_) That will do. (_to
Nicobulus_) Step up here, you. See that jovial party?
(_pointing inside_)
_Nic._
Video exadvorsum Pistoclerum et Bacchidem.
(_peeking in_) I see Pistoclerus and Bacchis right opposite.
_Chrys._
Qui sunt in lecto illo altero?
Who are on that other couch?
_Nic._
Interii miser.
(_peeking again, then with a start_) Death and damnation!
_Chrys._
Novistine hominem?
Do you recognize the gentleman?
_Nic._
Novi.
I do.
_Chrys._
Dic sodes mihi,
bellan videtur specie mulier?
Kindly give me your opinion--good-looking female, eh?
_Nic._
Admodum.
(_angrily_) Quite so!
_Chrys._
Quid illam, meretricemne esse censes?
Well, do you think she’s a harlot?
_Nic._
Quippini?
Naturally.
_Chrys._
Frustra es.
You’re mistaken.
_Nic._
Quis igitur obsecrost?
For heaven’s sake, who is she, then?
_Chrys._
Inveneris. 840
ex me quidem hodie numquam fies certior.
(_again mysterious_) You’ll soon discover. But you’ll never
get the information from me to-day.
IV. 8.