(with all his remaining resolution) Not a bit of it. 
      I don’t want to.  None of this for me:  leave me alone. 
      I prefer to take vengeance on that pair.

Phil.

  Etiam tu homo nihili? quod di dant boni cave culpa tua amissis
  dimidium auri datur. accipias, potesque et scortum aecumbas.

(aside to Nicobulus) See here, you—­ass!  Look out you don’t lose the blessings the gods give you, and have yourself to blame for it.  Here’s half the money given you:  take it, and drink and have a good time with the wench.

Nic.

  Egon ubi filius corrumpatur meus, ibi potem?

      (very feebly) I drink in the house where my son is being
      debauched?

Phil.

  Potandumst. 1190

      (clapping him on the shoulder) Drink you must.

Nic.

  Age iam, id ut ut est,
        etsi est dedecori patiar, facere inducam animum
  egon, cum haec cum illo accubet, inspectem?

(giving way temporarily) Come on then, no matter what it is, disgraceful though it be, I’ll stand it, I’ll bring myself to it. (after a pause, doubtfully) Am I to look on while she’s on the couch beside him?

Bacch.

  Immo equidem pol tecum accumbam,
  te amabo et te amplexabor.

      Goodness me, no indeed!  I’ll be on the couch beside you,
      loving you and hugging you. (snuggles up to him)

Nic.

  Caput prurit, perii, vix negito.

      (aside) My head does itch!  Dear, dear, dear!  It is hard to
      keep on saying no!

Bacch.

Non tibi venit in mentem, amabo, si dum vivas tibi bene facias tam pol id quidem esse haud perlonginquom, neque, si hoc hodie amissis, post in morte eventurum esse umquam?

My dear man, doesn’t it occur to you that, supposing you do enjoy yourself all your life, this life is very, very short, after all,—­good gracious, yes!—­and that if you let this chance slip, it won’t come again when you’re dead, ever?

Nic.

  Quid ago?

      (nearly helpless) What am I to do?

Phil.

  Quid agas? rogitas etiam?

      To do?  The idea of asking that!

Nic.

  Libet et metuo.

      I long to, and—­I’m afraid.

Bacch.

  Quid metuis?

      Afraid of what?

Nic.

  Ne obnoxius filio sim et servo.

      Of humbling myself before my son and servant.

Bacch.

  Mel meum, amabo, etsi haec fiunt,
  tuost:  unde illum sumere censes, nisi quod tute illi dederis?
  hanc veniam illis sine te exorem.