Bacchides, or The Twin Sisters (569-603b)

How, two?

Aye, and the two are sisters.

You are now designedly telling idle stories.

In fine, if you persist in thinking there’s but little confidence in me, I’ll take you upon my shoulders, and carry you hence into their house.

Well, I’ll go; but stay a moment.

I will not stay, and you shall not be holding me under a false suspicion.

I follow you then.

Of a debauched and unscrupulous fellow am I the Parasite—a Captain, who has brought his mistress with him from Samos.

Now he has ordered me to go to her, and make enquiry whether she will pay back the gold, or whether she will depart together with him. You, boy, who have for some time been with her, whichever of these is the house, do you knock. Go to the door forthwith. (The BOY goes to knock.) Are you coming back from there, you hangdog[*]? How the graceless scoundrel does knock!

You can gobble up a loaf three feet wide, and yet you don’t know how to knock at a door. (He calls out and knocks violently.) Is there any one in-doors? Hallo! is there any one here? Does any one open this door? Who’s coming out?

What’s the matter? What’s this knocking? Why, what the confounded torment possesses you, to be exerting your strength in this fashion on another person’s door?

You’ve almost broken the door down. What do you want now?

Young gentleman, my respects.

And my respects. But whom are you looking for?

For Bacchis.

But which of them?

Of that I know nothing, only it’s Bacchis. In a few words, the Captain, Cleomachus,

has sent me to her, either for her to pay back the tyro hundred golden Philippeans, or to go hence this day, together with him, to Elatia[*].

She doesn’t go: she says she shan’t go. Begone, and take back this message—she loves another person, and not him. Take yourself off from the house.

You’re too hasty.

And would you know now hasty I am?

By my faith, your phiz isn’t far off from a mishap; so much are these teeth-crackers (looking at his fists) longing in my fists.

So far as I understand his words, ’tis a warning to me, lest he should knock my nut-crackers out of my jaws. (To PISTOCLERUS.) At your own peril, I’ll tell him this.

What do you say?

I’ll tell him that which you bade me.

Who are you? Tell me.

I’m the skill of his body[*]

He needs must be a scampish fellow, who has got so worthless a skin.

He’ll be coming here, swollen up with wrath.

I wish he may burst.