Asinaria, or The Ass-Dealer (159-215)

I faith, I’ll be depriving this custom-house officer[*] of his dues.

From henceforth I’ll persist in treating you as you have deserved of me and mine, since you have treated me not as I deserve, in excluding me from your house.

I know that that is rather said with the tongue, than that it will happen in deed.

I alone have brought you from obscurity and from want; if I alone patronize you, you can never return sufficient thanks.

Do you still be the only one to patronize me, if you alone will always give me what I ask. Do you always keep what has been promised you, on this condition, that you surpass others in your presents.

What limit is there to be to giving? For really you can never be satisfied; the moment that you’ve received something, not very long after, you are devising something for you to be asking for.

What limit is there to be to your enjoying yourself, and to your indulging your amour? Can you never be satisfied?

The moment that you have sent her home, that instant, you are directly asking me to send her back to you.

In fact, I have given whatever you have demanded of me.

And I have sent the damsel to you. A requital has been given, like for like; a return for the money.

You treat me badly.

Why do you blame me if I do my duty? For nowhere is it either feigned in story or represented in pictures or written in poems,

where a procuress, who wishes to thrive, treats any lover well.

Still, ’twere right for you to show favour to me at least, that I might last the longer for you.

Don’t you know, the woman that shows favour to a lover, that same woman shows little favour to herself? Just like a fish, so is a lover to a procuress; he’s good for nothing if he isn’t fresh. Then it has juice, then it has sweetness; in any fashion you like you may season it,

either stewed or roasted; ill any way you will, you may turn it. So the lover; he’s ready to give, he longs for something to be asked of him, for there it’s taken from a full stock, nor does he know what he’s giving, or what mischief he’s doing. Of this matter does the new lover think; he wishes himself to please his mistress, he wishes to please me, he wishes to please her lady’s maid[*], he wishes to please the men-servants, he wishes to please the maid-servants as well, and even my dog

does he caress, that when it sees him, it may be delighted. I tell the truth; it shows cleverness for every person to be fair-dealing for his own advantage.

I’ve thoroughly learned that this is true, to my own great misfortune.

I’ faith, if you now had anything to give, you’d be uttering different remarks; now, since you’ve got nothing, you expect to be having her by means of harsh language.

’Tis not my way.

Nor yet mine, indeed, i’ faith, to be sending her to you for nothing; but this shall be done out of regard for your youthful age and your own sake, since you have rather been the cause of profit to us than of reputation to yourself. If two talents of silver[*] are paid me down, reckoned in my hand, this night will I grant you for nothing, as a present, by reason of my respect for you.

What if I haven’t it?

I’ll believe that you haven’t it—still, she shall go to another.

Where is that which I have given you already?

Spent; for if it was remaining to me, the damsel should be sent to you, and I should never ask for anything. Daylight, water, the sun, the moon, the night, these things I purchase not with money; the rest, whatever we wish to enjoy, we purchase on Grecian trust[*].

When we ask bread of the baker, wine from the wineshop—if they receive the money, they give their wares; the same principle do I go upon. My hands always have eyes in them; they believe what they see. There’s an old saying, trusting is good for nought[*]; you know whose it is—I say no more.

Now I’m clean stripped, you tell me another tale;

a very different one, I say, you give me now from formerly, when I was making presents; a different one from formerly, when with kindness and good words you used to entice me to your house. Then did your house even smile upon me, when I used to come to you. You used to say that I alone of all loved you and her. When I had given anything, just like the young ones of a pigeon were you both upon my lips;

and all your likings were according to my own liking. You always kept close to me; whatever I requested, whatever I wished, you used to do; what I didn’t wish and forbade, that, with carefulness, you used to avoid, nor did you first venture to attempt to do it. Now, you jades, you don’t much care either what I do wish or what I don’t wish.

Don’t you know? This calling of ours is very like that of the fowler. The fowler, when he has prepared the spot, sprinkles the food about. The birds are accustomed to the spot. ’Tis necessary for him[*] to make an outlay, who seeks for gain. They eat often; if they are caught once, they reimburse the fowler.