(not listening) In short, I’m in love with her.

Nic.

  An amas?

      You in love?

Phil.

      +nai gar.+

Bien sur!

Nic.

  Tun, homo putide, amator istac fieri aetate audes?

      You, you disgusting creature?  You venture to turn lover at
      your age?

Phil.

  Qui non?

      Why not?

Nic.

  Quia flagitium est.

      Because it’s infamous.

Phil.

  Quid opust verbis? meo filio non sum iratus,
  neque te tuost aequom esse iratum:  si amant, sapienter faciunt.

      (gathering courage rapidly) Tut, tut!  I’m not angry at my
      son, and you oughtn’t to be angry at yours:  if they’re in
      love, they’re acting wisely.

Bacch.

  Sequere hac.

      (to sister) Come along.

Nic.

Eunt eccas tandem probri perlecebrae et persuastrices, quid nunc? etiam redditis nobis filios et servom? an ego experior tecum vim maiorem?

Ah, there they come at last, the seductive, persuasive pests! (to sisters) Well now?  See here, are you going to give us back our sons and servant?  Or shall I try more vigorous measures with you?

Phil.

  Abin hinc?
  non homo tu quidem es, qui istoc pacto tam lepidam inlepide appelles.

      (to Nicobulus, protestingly) Get out, will you?  There’s no
  red blood in you, addressing a sweet little girl (leering
  at Bacchis) in that sour fashion.

Bacch.

  Senex optime quantumst in terra, sine me hoc exorare abs te, 1170
  ut istuc delictum desistas tanto opere ire oppugnatum.

      (to Nicobulus, as she tries to fondle him) You nicest old
      man in all the world, do let me persuade you not to be so
      awfully opposed to your son’s naughtiness.

Nic.

  Ni abeas, quamquam tu bella es,
  malum tibi magnum dabo iam.

      (struggling to be very stern) Unless you get away from
      me—­no matter if you are pretty—­I’ll give you a good sound
      slap this minute.

Bacch.

  Patiar,
  non metuo, ne quid mihi doleat
  quod ferias.

      (softly, still fondling him) I’ll take it.  I’m not afraid
      of your striking me so as to hurt at all.

Nic.

  Ut blandiloquast!
  ei mihi, metuo.

      (aside) What a coaxer she is!  Oh, dear me!  I’m afraid!

Soror

  Hic magis tranquillust.

      (caressing Philoxenus to his high satisfaction) This one
      is more peaceful.