Et meam partem loquendi et tuam trado tibi; ad loquendum atque ad tacendum tute habeas portisculum. quin pol si reposivi remum, sola ego in casteria ubi quiesco, omnis familiae causa consistit tibi. 520

I give you my share and your own, too:  you can be boatswain yourself and give the signal for talking and keeping still.  But goodness me, if I once lay down the oar, I, and stay by myself resting in the rowers’ room, the progress of this whole household stops short, you see.

Cle.

Quid ais tu, quam ego unam vidi mulierem audacissimam? quotiens te votui Argyrippum filium Demaeneti compellare aut contrectare, conloquive aut contui? quid dedit? quid ad nos iussit deportari? an tu tibi verba blanda esse aurum rere, dicta docta pro datis? ultro amas, ultro expetessis, ultro ad te accersi iubes illos qui dant, eos derides; qui deludunt, deperis.

Look here!  Of all the impudent young misses I have ever seen!  How many times have I forbidden you to have communication or contact or chitchat with Demaenetus’s son, Argyrippus, or to cast your eyes on him?  What has he given us?  What has he had sent us?  Do you think pretty speeches are gold pieces, witty words presents?  You make love to him yourself, run after him yourself, have him called yourself.  Men that give you things you treat with contempt; those that trifle with you you dote on.

an te id exspectare oportet, si quis promittat tibi te facturum divitem, si moriatur mater sua? ecastor[15] nobis periclum magnum et familiae portenditur, 530 dum eius exspectamus mortem, ne nos moriamur fame. nunc adeo nisi mi huc argenti adfert viginti minas, ne ille ecastor hunc trudetur largus lacrumarum foras. hic dies summust quo est[16] apud me inopiae excusatio.

Have you any business waiting for it to happen, if a man does promise to make you rich, if his mother dies?  Mercy me, while we wait for her to die, up looms a big risk of ourselves and our household dying of starvation!  Now let me tell you this:  unless he brings me eighty pounds, I swear to goodness that fellow shall be bundled out of the house, liberal as he is—­of tears!  This is the last day I accept pleas of poverty.

Phil.

  Patiar, si cibo carere me iubes, mater mea.

      Tell me to do without food, mother dear, and I’ll endure
      that.

Cle.

  Non voto ted amare qui dant quoia amentur gratia.

      I have nothing to say against your loving men who give you
      something to be loved for.

Phil.

  Quid si hic animus occupatust, mater, quid faciam? mone.

      What if my heart isn’t free, mother?  What then?  Advise me.

Cle.

  Em,
  meum caput contemples si quidem ex re consultas tua.

      Look!  Consider these grey hairs of mine, if you really have
      any regard for your own good.