Si propter amorem uxorem nolit ducere.

For the old Man propounds two Parts differing from one another:  Si, &c.  If Pamphilus for the Love of Glycerie refuseth to marry, I shall have some Cause to chide him; but if he shall not refuse, then it remains that I must intreat Chremes.  Moreover the Interruption of Sosia, and Simo’s Anger against Davus made too long a Transposition of the Words.

Hi. Mouse, reach me that Book.

Cr. Do you commit your Book to a Mouse?

Hi. More safely than my Wine.  Let me never stir, if Sbrulius has not spoken the Truth.

Ca. Give me the Book, I’ll shew you another doubtful Place.  This Verse is not found in the Prologue of Eunuchus: 

Habeo alia multa, quae nunc condonabuntur.

I have many other Things, which shall now be delivered.

Although the Latin Comedians especially take great Liberty to themselves in this Kind of Verse, yet I don’t remember that they any where conclude a Trimetre with a Spondee, unless it be read Condonabitur impersonally, or Condonabimus, changing the Number of the Person.

Ma. Oh, this is like Poets Manners indeed!  As soon as ever they are set down to Dinner they are at Play, holding up their Fingers, and poring upon their Books.  It were better to reserve your Plays and your Scholarship for the second Course.

Cr.  Margaret gives us no bad Counsel, we’ll humour her; when we have fill’d our Bellies, we’ll go to our Play again; now we’ll play with our Fingers in the Dish.

Hi. Take Notice of Poetick Luxury.  You have three Sorts of Eggs, boil’d, roasted, and fry’d; they are all very new, laid within these two Days.

Par. I can’t abide to eat Butter; if they are fry’d with Oil, I shall like ’em very well.

Hi. Boy, go ask Margaret what they are fry’d in.

Mo. She says they are fry’d in neither.

Hi. What! neither in Butter nor Oil.  In what then?

Mo. She says they are fry’d in Lye.

Cr. She has given you an Answer like your Question.  What a great Difficulty ’tis to distinguish Butter from Oil.

Ca. Especially for those that can so easily know a Lettuce from a Beet.

Hi. Well, you have had the Ovation, the Triumph will follow in Time.  Soho, Boy, look about you, do you perceive nothing to be wanting?

Mo. Yes, a great many Things.

Hi. These Eggs lack Sauce to allay their Heat.

Mo. What Sauce would you have?

Hi. Bid her send us some Juice of the Tendrels of a Vine pounded.

Mo. I’ll tell her, Sir.

Hi. What, do you come back empty-handed?

Mo. She says, Juice is not used to be squeez’d out of Vine Tendrels.