(grimly) Now’s the time when I should infinitely prefer to be underground than on it!  Hope, resources, help—­all deserting, all leaving me in the lurch now!  My day has come:  I can never hope to get out of this alive.  Done for, and nothing to be done for it!  There’s no prospect of staving off the danger, either, and not a thing to drape my crafty lies with.

neque deprecatio perfidiis meis nec male factis fuga est. (522) nec confidentiae usquam hospitium est nec deverticulum dolis:  operta quae fuere aperta sunt, patent praestigiae, omnis res palam est, neque de hac re negotium est, quin male occidam oppetamque pestem eri vicem meamque.

My falsehoods can’t beg themselves off, or my transgressions take to their heels:  no lodgings anywhere for brass:  guile can’t find accommodations.  The covert’s uncovered, our plot’s apparent, everything’s out.  There’s nothing to do about it:  I must drop off disagreeably, and come to a painful end for master—­also for myself.

perdidit me Aristophontes hic qui venit modo intro:[16] is me novit, is sodalis Philocrati et cognatus est. neque iam Salus servare, si volt, me potest, nec copia est, nisi si aliquam corde machinor astutiam. 530 quam, malum? quid machiner? quid comminiscar? maxumas nugas ineptus incipisso. haereo.

He’s been the ruin of me, this Aristophontes that just went inside:  he knows me:  he’s a particular friend of Philocrates, related to him, too.  Salvation herself can’t save me now, if she so desires:  there’s no chance unless I can invent some clever scheme.  But what, curse it?  What can I invent?  What can I devise? (reflecting, then doubtfully) Oh, this is awful nonsense I’m at, poor simpleton! (disgustedly) Stuck!

III. 4.

    Scene 4.

    ENTER Hegio, Aristophontes, AND Slaves.

Hegio

  Quo illum nunc hominem proripuisse foras se dicam ex aedibus?

      Where did that fellow bolt for out of the house just now,
      I wonder?

Tynd.

Nunc enim vero ego occidi:  eunt ad te hostes, Tyndare. quid loquar? quid fabulabor? quid negabo aut quid fatebor? mihi res omnis in incerto sita est. quid rebus confidam meis? utinam te di prius perderent, quam periisti e patria tua, Aristophontes, qui ex parata re imparatam omnem facis. occisa est haec res, nisi reperio atrocem mi aliquam astutiam.

(aside) It’s all over with me, all over with me now:  the enemy are upon you, Tyndarus!  What shall I say?  What story shall I tell?  What shall I deny—­or what admit?  It’s a shaky business for me on every side!  What faith can I put in my luck?  Oh, I wish the gods had made away with you before you made away from home, Aristophontes,—­upsetting my settled plan completely!  The game is up, unless I hit upon some awfully clever scheme.

Hegio