Bacch.

  Simulato me amare.

      Do make believe you love me.

Pistoc.

  Utrum ego istuc iocon adsimulem an serio?

      (smiling) Make believe in fun, or as if I meant business?

Bacch.

  Heia, hoc agere meliust. miles quom huc adveniat, te volo
  me amplexari.

      (reprovingly) Now, now! here’s what we’d better do.  When
      the Captain arrives I want you to hug me.

Pistoc.

  Quid eo mi opus est?

      What’s the use of my doing that?

Bacch.

  Ut ille te videat volo.
  scio quid ago.

      I want him to see you.  I know what I’m doing.

Pistoc.

  Et pol ego scio quid metuo. sed quid ais?

      Gad!  And I know what I’m fearing.  But, I say.

Bacch.

  Quid est?

      Well?

Pistoc.

  Quid si apud te eveniat desubito prandium aut potatio
  forte aut cena, ut solet in istis fieri conciliabulis, 80
  ubi ego tum accumbam?

What if there should happen to be an impromptu luncheon or drinking party at your house, or a dinner party, perhaps—­ the ordinary thing at resorts like yours—­where would my place be then?

Bacch.

Apud me, mi anime, ut lepidus cum lepida accubet. locus hic apud nos, quamvis subito venias, semper liber est. ubi tu lepide voles esse tibi “mea rosa,” mihi dicito “dato qui bene sit”:  ego ubi bene sit tibi locum lepidum dabo.

Next to me, darling; a nice boy and a nice girl side by side.  This place at my house is your very own always, no matter how unexpectedly you come.  Whenever you want to have a nice time just say, “Give me a comfy place, rosey dear,” and I’ll give you a nice place to be comfy in.

Pistoc.

  Rapidus fluvius est hic, non hac temere transiri potest.

      (half to himself) This is a rapid stream:  dangerous
      crossing here!

Bacch.

  Atque ecastor apud hunc fluvium aliquid perdundumst tibi.
  manum da et sequere.

      (aside) My conscience, yes!  And a stream you’re bound to
      lose something in, young man! (aloud) Give me your hand
      and come along. (tries to take it)

Pistoc.

  Aha, minime.

      (drawing back) Oh no, not a bit of it!

Bacch.

  Quid ita?

      Why not?

Pistoc.

  Quia istoc inlecebrosius
  fieri nil potest:  nox mulier vinum homini adulescentulo.

      Because a young fellow couldn’t be offered a more enticing
      combination than that—­wine, woman, and evening hours.