Quin tu illum iubes ancillas rapere sublimen domum?

      Why not tell your maids to pick him up and take him off home?

Art.

  Tace modo. ne ego illum ecastor miserum habebo.

      You just keep still.  Oh, but I’ll make life miserable for
      him, I swear I will!

Par.

  Ego istuc scio,
  ita fore illi dum quidem cum illo nupta eris.

      I have no doubt about that, just as long as he is your
      husband.

Art.

Ego censeo. 870 eum[30] etiam hominem in senatu dare operam aut clientibus, ibi labore delassatum noctem totam stertere:  ille opere foris faciendo lassus noctu ad me advenit; fundum alienum arat, incultum familiarem deserit. is etiam corruptus porro suom corrumpit filium.

(too irate to notice unflattering accent) Yes, indeed!  He busy in the Senate or helping his clients!  He wearied out by his labours there, there, that he spends the whole night snoring!  It is business away from home that makes him turn up at night all weary—­the business of ploughing other people’s fields and leaving his own uncultivated.  Corrupt himself, he actually goes on and corrupts his own son.

Par.

  Sequere hac me modo, iam faxo ipsum hominem manifesto opprimas.

      Just follow me this way:  I’ll soon make you drop on our
      gentleman in the very act.

Art.

  Nihil ecastor est quod facere mavelim.

      Ah-h-h!  There’s nothing I’d like better!

Par.

  Mane dum.

      Hm! wait! (goes quietly to Cleareta’s door, peeps in and
      comes back)

Art.

  Quid est?

      What’s the matter?

Par.

  Possis, si forte accubantem tuom virum conspexeris
  cum corona amplexum amicam, si videas, cognoscere?

      If you happened to spy your husband stretched out on a
      banquet couch with a garland on and a girl in his arms—­if
      you saw him, could you recognize him?

Art.

  Possum ecastor.

      Indeed I can!

Par.

  Em tibi hominem.

      (taking her cautiously to the door) Behold your man!

Art.

  Perii.

      (peeping) Dreadful, dreadful!

Par.

  Paulisper mane. 880
  aucupemus ex insidiis clanculum quam rem gerant.

      (drawing her aside) Wait a bit!  Let’s lie in ambush and
      spy what’s going on without being seen.

Argyr.

  Quid modi, pater, amplexando facies?

      (resentfully) Father!  When is that hug going to end?