(_eagerly_) Freedmen! _Leon._ Non patronos? Not patrons, eh? _Argyr._ Id potius. Yes, yes, patrons! _Leon._ Viginti minae hic insunt in crumina, has ego, si vis, tibi dabo. There’s eighty pounds in this wallet here: I’ll give it to you if you like. _Argyr._ Di te servassint semper, custos erilis, decus popli, thensaurus copiarum, salus interioris[24] corporis amorisque imperator. hic pone, hic istam colloca cruminam in collo plane. Heaven prosper you for evermore, you guardian of your master, you glory of the populace, you storehouse of supplies, saviour of the inner man, and generalissimo of love! Put it here, hang that wallet here around my neck in plain sight. _Leon._ Nolo ego te, qui erus sis, mihi onus istuc sustinere. Let my master bear such a load? No sir, not I. _Argyr._ Quin tu labore liberas te atque istam imponis in me? Why not take things easy yourself and let me stand the strain? _Leon._ Ego baiulabo, tu, ut dacet dominum, ante me ito inanis. 660 I’ll act as porter myself; as for you, you walk on ahead as a master should, empty handed. _Argyr._ Quid nunc? (_eagerly_) Well now? _Lean._ Quid est? (_drawling_) Well what? _Argyr._ Quin tradis huc cruminam pressatum umerum? Why don’t you hand the wallet over and let it crush my shoulder? _Leon._ Hanc, cui daturu’s hanc, iube petere atque orare mecum. nam istuc proclive est, quo iubes me plane collocare. She’s the one, (_pointing to Philaenium_) the one you’ll give it to, tell her to ask me for it, tease me for it. You see that plain site you told me to put it on is a (_with a sly glance at Philaenium_) slope. _Phil._ Da, meus ocellus, mea rosa, mi anime, mea voluptas, Leonida, argentum mihi, ne nos diiunge amantis. Oh, Leonida, you apple of my eye, my rosebud, my heart’s delight, my darling, do give me the money! Don’t separate us lovers. _Leon._ Dic me igitur tuom passerculum, gallinam, coturnicem, agnellum haedillum me tuom die esse vel vitellum. prehende auriculis, compara labella cum labellis. (_with burlesque fondness_) Well then, call me your little sparrow, hen, quail, call me your little lambkin, kidlet, or calfyboy, if you prefer: take hold of me by the earlaps and match my little lips to your little lips. _Argyr._ Ten osculetur, verbero? She kiss you, you scoundrel? _Leon._ Quam vero indignum visum est? at qui pol hodie non feres, ni genua confricantur. 670 Yes, it does seem a shame, doesn’t it? However, you don’t get the cash this day, by gad, unless you rub my knees. _Argyr._ Quidvis egestas imperat: fricentur. dan quod oro?