Curculio, or The Forgery (88-112b)

I’ll do so.

Come, drink, you joyous door, quaff on, readily prove propitious unto me.

Door, would you like some olives or a tit-bit, or some capers?

Arouse and send out here to me your portress.

You’re spilling the wine; what matter is it that possesses you? (Takes hold of his arm.)

Let me alone. Don’t you see? This most joyous door is opening; does the hinge make a bit of creaking? ’Tis a charming one.

Why don’t you then give it a kiss?

Hold your tongue; let’s keep back the light and our noise.

Be it so.

The savour of aged wine has reached my nostrils; the love of it has brought me in my eagerness hither in the dark; wherever it is, it’s near me. O capital, I’ve found it. (Stooping, and smelling at the bowl.) Hail to you, my soul, Joy of dear Bacchus;

how enamoured am I of your old age. For in comparison with yours, the odour of all unguents were mere bilge-water; you are my myrrh, you my cinnamon, you my rose, you my saffron unguent and my cassia, you are my vine-palm[*] scent. But, where you have been poured, there would I most earnestly hope to be buried.

This old lady’s thirsty;

how limited is her thirst?

She’s a moderate person; she swallows eight gallons[*] only.

I’ faith, according to your account, this year’s vintage is not enough for this old woman alone.

But since as yet you, fragrance, alone have penetrated to my nostrils, so in its turn afford some delight to my throat. (Feels for the bowl on the ground, which PALINURUS draws away.) I find you not; where is your own dear self? I’m longing to touch you; do let me pour your liquids into me by sip-sipping. But in this direction it has gone, this way I’ll. follow it.

It really had been more proper for her to be a dog; she has a good nose.

Prithee, whose voice is it that I hear at a distance.