Compendi verba multa iam faciam tibi venire tu me gaudes:  ego credo tibi, hospitium et cenam pollicere, ut convenit peregre advenienti:  ego autem venturum adnuc salutem tibi ab sodali solidam nuntio rogabis me ubi sit:  vivit.

Here’s for saving you the trouble of a long speech, sir.  You’re glad I’ve come:  I believe you.  You promise to do the honours and dine me, the stranger from afar, and so you should:  for my part, I accept.  I bring you cordial greetings from your chum.  You’ll ask me where he is:  alive.

Pistoc.

  Nempe recte valet?

      (eagerly) And well, well, of course?

Chrys.

  Istuc volebam ego ex te percontarier.

      That’s what I wanted to ask you.

Pistoc.

  Qui scire possum?

      How can I know?

Chrys.

  Nullus plus.

      None better.

Pistoc.

  Quemnam ad modum? 190

      Why, how so?

Chrys.

Quia si illa inventa est, quam ille amat, recte valet, si non inventa est, minus valet moribundusque est animast amica amanti. si abest, nullus est; si adest, res nullast. ipsus est—­nequam et miser, sed tu quid factitasti mandatis super?

Because if his ladylove has been discovered, he’s perfectly well:  if she’s not discovered, he’s not so well; he’s at death’s door.  His love is life to a lover:  if she’s away, he’s lost; if she’s there, his cash is lost, he himself being—­a poor good-for-nothing fool.  But you—­what have you been doing about his commission?

Pistoc.

  Egon ut, quod ab illoc attigisset nuntius,
  non impetratum id advenienti ei redderem?
  regiones colere mavellem Acherunticas.

      I?  Am I the man to let him arrive and find the request his
      messenger mentioned unattended to?  I’d sooner pass my days
      in the lower regions.

Chrys.

  Eho, an invenisti Bacchidem?

      Hullo!  You haven’t found Bacchis?

Pistoc.

  Samiam quidem. 199,200

      Yes, the Samian one.

Chrys.

  Vide quaeso, ne quis tractet illam indiligens;
  scis tu ut confringi vas cito Samium solet.

      (affecting terror) Heavens! do see that no one handles
      that one carelessly; you know that Samian[D] ware, how
      precious brittle it is.

        [Footnote D:  A fragile and (The Captives 291) cheap kind
        of pottery.]

Pistoc.

  Iamne ut soles?

      The same old wag, eh?

Chrys.

  Dic ubi ea nunc est, obsecro.