Asinaria, or The Ass-Dealer (900-915)

Don’t you love my mother?

Who—I? I love her just now, because she isn’t present.

How, when she is present?

Then, I wish she was dead.

This fellow is fond of you, according to what he says.

On my word, he’s surely laying out all this at interest; for if, this day, he returns home, I’ll especially have my revenge in kissing him.

Father, throw the dice; that afterwards I may have a throw.

By all means.

You, Philenium, for myself, and death for my wife. (He throws.) ’Tis Venus’s cast[*]. Lads, clap your hands, and give me some honeyed wine in my cup, in honor of my throw.

I can hold out no longer.

If you haven’t learned the fulling trade[*], it’s not to be wondered at; now it’s quite fitting for you to beset his eyes. (They make their appearance before the revellers.)

By heavens, I will live, and you this day have made that invocation to your own great misfortune.

Will some one run to fetch the undertakers[*]?

Health to you, mother.

Health indeed after this fashion!

Demaenetus is dead. ’Tis time to betake myself hence: this battle bravely waxes hot. I’ll be off to Diabolus. I’ll tell him his orders are performed as he desired them; and in the meantime I’ll persuade him that we should take a meal, while these people are squabbling.

Afterwards, in fine, I’ll bring him here to-morrow, to the procuress, that he may give her the twenty mince, that, in his turn, he in his passion may be enabled to obtain this damsel. I hope that Argyrippus will be able to be prevailed upon to allow him to pass each alternate night with him in her company; for, unless I obtain that, I’ve lost my patron[*]; so great is the passion of the man by reason of his love.