Curculio, or The Forgery (129b-165)

Why, the same thing that you said to me.

What’s that?

Say that you’re quite undone.

May the Gods confound you.

Say so to her.

Am I to say then to her—?

Say what?

That I’m quite undone.

Well then, say so.

Old lady, do listen. I wish you to know this; to my sorrow, I’m quite undone.

But, i’ faith, for my part, I’m altogether brought to life. But why is it that you are pleased to say you are quite undone?

Because I’m deprived of the object which I love. (Pretends to weep)

My dear Phaedromus, prithee, do not weep; do you take care that I’m not thirsty, I’ll at once bring out here for you the object which you love. (Goes into the house.)

Assuredly, if you keep faith with me, in place of a golden statue, I’ll erect for you one of wine[*], which shall be a memorial of your gullet Palinurus, who on earth will be so blest as myself, if she comes to me?

By my faith, he who is in love, if he is in want as well, is afflicted with a dreadful malady.

Such is not the case with me; for I feel sure that this very day my Parasite will come hither to me with the money.

You attempt something mighty, if you expect that which nowhere exists.

What if I approach the door, and trill a carol[*]?

If you choose; I neither bid nor request you, since, my master, I see that you are of manners and disposition thus changed.

Bolts, O ye bolts, with pleasure do I salute you. I love you, I court you, I seek you, and you entreat; most kindly lend your aid to me in love;

become, for my sake, as though play-actors[*] from foreign climes; leap upwards pray, and send out of doors this fair one, who drains my blood for me distractedly in love. (Addressing PALINURUS.) Look at that, how those most accursed bolts sleep on, and none the quicker for my sake do they bestir themselves.

I see quite clearly that you don’t value my esteem at all. Hist! hush, hush!

I’ troth, for my part I’m silent enough.

I hear a noise; at last, i’ faith, these bolts have become complaisant to me.

Come softly out, and prevent the noise of the doors and the creaking of the hinges, my dear Planesium, that our master mayn’t perceive that that is going on which we are doing here.

Stay, I’ll pour a little water[*] on it.

Do you see how the palsied hag is giving her dose? She herself has learnt right well to drink up the wine; to the door she’s giving water for it to drink.

Where are you—you who have summoned me on the recognizances of Venus[*]? To you do I present myself, and, in the same way do I call on you, on the other hand, to present yourself to me.

Here I am; for could I be absent, I wouldn’t repine for any misfortune to befall me, my honey.

My life, it is not becoming for one thus in love to be at a distance.