Do let me love you Cupidon tecum saevust anne Amor? XIV (XIX) Is it Cupid, or Love, raging within you? Vlixem audivi fuisse aerumnosissimum, XV (I) qui annis viginti errans a patria afuit; verum hic adulescens multo Vlixem anteit[2] qui ilico errat intra muros civicos. They say Ulysses had an awfully hard time of it, away from home as he was for twenty years, wandering round. But this young gentleman is a long way ahead of Ulysses with his wandering round here inside the city walls. quidquid est nomen sibi XVI (II) Whatever her (his) name is _Pistoc._ quae sodalem atque me exercitos habet XVII A girl that has been keeping my chum and me exercised nam credo cuivis excantare cor potes. XVIII For I do believe you can witch the heart out of anyone you please sin lenocinium forte collibitum est tibi, XIX videas mercedis quid tibi est aecum dari, ne istac aetate me sectere gratiis. 30 But if pandering happens to have caught your fancy, you should consider what price ought to be paid you, that you may not run after me at that time of life for nothing. Arabus. XX Arabian _Bacchis_ AND HER SISTER ARE STANDING TOGETHER TALKING. _Pistoclerus_ APART. _Bacch._ Quid si hoc potis est ut tu taceas, ego loquar? How about your keeping a quiet tongue yourself, if possible, and my doing the talking? _Soror._ Lepide, licet. Charming! By all means. _Bacch._ Ubi me fugiet memoria, ibi tu facito ut subvenias, soror. In case my memory deserts me, see you come to the rescue, sister. _Soror._ Pol magis metuo, ne defuerit mi in monendo oratio. Goodness me! I’m more afraid of sage suggestions failing myself. _Bacch._ Pol ego metuo, lusciniolae ne defuerit cantio. sequere hac. (_laughing_) Goodness me! And I’m afraid of song failing the little nightingale. Come on. (_leads the way toward Pistoclerus_) _Pistoc._ Quid agunt duae germanae meretrices cognomines? quid in consilio consuluistis? (_aside, nervously_) What are those two up to, those harlot sisters with the same name? (_aloud, trying to assume the air of a man of the world_) What have you girls settled on in that session? _Bacch._ Bene. Something nice. _Pistoc._ Pol haud meretricium est. 40 By Jove! Unusual in the profession! _Bacch._ Miserius nihil est quam mulier. (_in apparent dejection_) Oh, there’s nothing more miserable than a woman! _Pistoc._ Quid esse dices dignius? And what ought to be more so, in your opinion? _Bacch._