Demaenetum volebam.

      I wished to see Demaenetus.

Lib.

  Si sit domi, dicam tibi.

      If he was at home, I’d tell you.

Merc.
    Trader

  Quid eius atriensis?

      What about his steward?

Lib.

  Nihilo mage intus est.

      No, he’s not in, either.

Merc.
    Trader

  Ubi est?

      Where is he?

Lib.

  Ad tonsorem ire dixit.

      Said he was going to the barber’s.

Merc.
    Trader

  Conveni. sed post non redit?

      I met him.  But he has not been back since?

Lib.

  Non edepol. quid volebas?

      Lord, no!  What did you want?

Merc.
    Trader

  Argenti viginti minas, si adesset, accepisset.

      He would have got eighty pounds, if he was here.

Lib.

  Qui pro istuc?

      What for?

Merc.
    Trader

  Asinos vendidit Pellaeo mercatori
  mercatu.

      He sold some asses at the market to a trader from Pella.

Lib.

  Scio. tu id nunc refers? iam hic credo eum adfuturum.

      I know.  Bringing the cash now, are you?  He’ll be here soon,
      I fancy.

Merc.
    Trader

  Qua facie voster Saurea est? si is est, iam scire potero.

      What does your Saurea look like? (aside) Now I can find
      out if that fellow is my man.

Lib.

  Macilentis malis, rufulus aliquantum, ventriosus,
  truculentis oculis, commoda statura, tristi fronte. 400

      (reflectively) Lantern-jawed—­reddish hair—­pot-bellied—­
      savage eyes—­average height—­and a scowl.

Merc.
    Trader

  Non potuit pictor rectius describere eius formam.

      (aside) No painter could give me a more living likeness of
      that fellow.

Lib.

  Atque hercle ipsum adeo contuor, quassanti capite incedit.
  quisque obviam huic occesserit irato, vapulabit.

      (looking down street) Yes, and what’s more, he’s in sight
      himself, by gad,—­swaggering along and shaking his head! 
      Anyone that crosses his path when he’s angry gets thrashed.

Merc.
    Trader

  Siquidem hercle Aeacidinis minis animisque expletus incedit,
  si med iratus tetigerit, iratus vapulabit.

      Good Lord!  No matter if he swaggers along as full of fire
      and fury as Achilles—­if your angry man lays a hand on me,
      it’s your angry man gets thrashed.