Easily, eh, curse it? A man that has caught me in a barefaced lie? A man that, if I should beg him not to believe me in a thing, wouldn’t dare to believe even that! _Mnes._ Immo si audias quae dicta dixit me adversum tibi. (_smiling feebly_) Worse still--if you had only heard what he said to me about you. _Chrys._ Quid dixit? What did he say? _Mnes._ Si tu illum solem sibi solem esse diceres, se illum lunam credere esse et noctem qui nunc est dies. 700 That if you told him the sun there was the sun, he’d believe it was the moon, and that it was night now, not day. _Chrys._ Emungam hercle hominem probe hodie, ne id nequiquam dixerit. (_thinking a moment, then jubilantly_) By Jupiter! I’ll clean the man up in glorious shape to-day, that he mayn’t say that for nothing! _Mnes._ Nunc quid nos vis facere? What do you want us to do now? _Chrys._ Enim nil nisi ut ametis impero. ceterum quantum lubet me poscitote aurum: ego dabo. quid mihi refert Chrysalo esse nomen, nisi factis probo? sed nunc quantillum usust auri tibi, Mnesiloche? dic mihi. Oh, make love--that’s all I order. But just apply to me for gold, as much as you like: I’m your man. What’s the advantage of my being named Chrysalus, unless I live up to it? Well now, Mnesilochus, what’s the paltry sum you need? Tell me. _Mnes._ Militi nummis ducentis iam usus est pro Bacchide. (_eagerly_) I need two hundred pounds at once to pay the Captain for Bacchis. _Chrys._ Ego dabo. I’m your man. _Mnes._ Tum nobis opus est sumptu. Then we must have something for running expenses. _Chrys._ Ah, placide volo unum quidque agamus: hoc ubi egero, tum istuc agam. de ducentis nummis primum intendam ballistam in senem; ea ballista si pervortam turrim et propugnacula, 710 recta porta invadam extemplo in oppidum anticum et vetus: si id capso, geritote amicis vostris aurum corbibus, sicut animus sperat. Oh, I say, let’s go gently and attend to things one by one: after I’ve attended to this, then I’ll attend to that: I’ll train my catapult on the old fellow for the two hundred first. If I shatter the tower and outworks with the said catapult, the next minute I’ll plunge straight through the gate into the ancient and time-worn town; in case I capture it, you two can carry off gold to your lady friends by the basketful, and gratify the hope of your soul. _Pistoc._ Apud test animus noster, Chrysale. Our soul is in your keeping, Chrysalus. _Chrys._ Nunc tu abi intro, Pistoclere, ad Bacchidem, atque ecfer cito. (_obviously the manager_) Now, Pistoclerus, inside with you to Bacchis and hurry back with-- _Pistoc._ Quid? With what? _Chrys._ Stilum, ceram et tabellas, linum. --a stylus, wax and tablets, some tape.