My sister here is imploring me to find some one to stand by her, so that our Captain—­so that he may carry her back home when she’s served her time.  Do stand by her in this, there’s a dear.

Pistoc.

  Quid isti caveam?

      Stand by her?  How?

Bacch.

  Ut revehatur domum,
  ubi ei dediderit operas, ne hanc ille habeat pro ancilla sibi;
  nam si haec habeat aurum quod illi renumeret, faciat lubens.

To have her carried back home when she’s finished her service, so that he mayn’t keep her for his maid servant.  Why, if she only had the money to pay him back, she’d be glad to do it.

Pistoc.

  Ubi nunc is homost?

      Where is this man at present?

Bacch.

  Iam hic credo aderit. sed hoc idem apud nos rectius
  poteris agere; atque is dum veniat, sedens ibi opperibere.
  eadem biberis, eadem dedero tibi, ubi biberis, savium.

He’ll be here soon, I suppose.  But this is a matter you can manage better at our house; yes, you sit down and wait there till he comes. (coaxingly) You shall have something to drink, too, and after that I’ll give you just the nicest sort of kiss, too.

Pistoc.

  Viscus merus vostrast blanditia.

      Nothing but birdlime, these honeyed words.

Bacch.

  Quid iam?

      Oh now, why?

Pistoc.

  Quia enim intellego, 50
  duae unum expetitis palumbem,[3] perii harundo alas verberat.
  non ego istuc facinus mihi, mulier, conducibile esse arbitror.

Well, because here you are, the pair of you, after one lone pigeon. (aside) Damnation!  The limed twigs are brushing my wings! (aloud, stiffly) Madam, I consider this an unprofitable business for me to be in.

Bacch.

  Qui, amabo?

      Bless your heart, why so?

Pistoc.

  Quia, Bacchis, bacchas metuo et bacchanal tuom.

      Well, Bacchis, I’m afraid of Bacchantes and your Bacchante
      resort.

Bacch.

  Quid est? quid metuis? ne tibi lectus malitiam apud me suadeat?

      How’s that?  What are you afraid of?  The couch’s tempting you
      to be naughty with me?

Pistoc.

  Magis illectum tuom quam lectum metuo. mala tu es bestia.
  nam huic aetati non conducit, mulier, latebrosus locus.

      It’s not so much the couch as the couch’s alluring occupant
      I’m afraid of.  You’re a dangerous animal.  Why, dens of
      darkness don’t become a young fellow like me.

Bacch.