Fit vasta Troia, scindunt proceres Pergamum. scivi ego iam dudum fore me exitio Pergamo. edepol qui me esse dicat cruciatu malo dignum, ne ego cum illo pignus haud ausim dare; tantas turbellas facio. sed crepuit foris:  ecfertur praeda ex Troia. taceam nunciam.

(hilarious).  Troy is being made a waste; the chieftains are laying Pergamum low!  I knew long ago I’d be the downfall of Pergamum!  By gad, the man that says I deserve to be punished damnably—­I surely wouldn’t dare bet him I don’t.  Oh, the lovely rumpus I’m raising! (listening) But the door creaked:  the booty is being carried out from Troy.  Time for me to keep still!

      RE-ENTER Nicobulus WITH TWO BAGS OF GOLD.

Nic.

  Cape hoc tibi aurum, Chrysale. i, fer filio.
  ego ad forum autem hinc ibo, ut solvam militi. 1060

      Take this money, Chrysalus:  go, carry it to my son.  As for
      me, I am going to the forum to settle with the Captain.

Chrys.

  Non equidem accipiam. proin tu quaeras qui ferat.
  nolo ego mihi credi.

      (drawing back) No indeed, I won’t take it.  So you can look
      further for some one to carry it.  I don’t want it trusted to
      me.

Nic.

  Cape vero, odiose facis.

      Come, come, now, take it:  you annoy me.

Chrys.

  Non equidem capiam.

      Indeed I won’t take it.

Nic.

  At quaeso.

      But I beg you.

Chrys.

  Dico ut res se habet.

      (firmly) I tell you just how I stand.

Nic.

  Morare.

      (impatiently) You’re delaying me.

Chrys.

  Nolo, inquam, aurum concredi mihi,
  vel da aliquem qui servet me.

      I don’t want money put in my charge, I say. (pause) At
      least, appoint some one to watch me.

Nic.

  Ohe, odiose facis.

      Pshaw!  You annoy me.

Chrys.

  Cedo, si necesse est.

      (reluctant) Give it here, if I must.

Nic.

  Cura hoc. iam ego huc revenero.

      (handing him bag of gold) Look out for this.  I shall be
      back here soon. [EXIT TOWARD FORUM.

Chrys.

Curatum est—­esse te senem miserrumum. hoc est incepta efficere pulcre:  bellule mi evenit, ut ovans praeda onustus incederem; salute nostra atque urbe capta per dolum 1070 domum reduco integrum omnem exercitum.

(as Nicobulus disappears) It has been looked out for—­ your being the poorest old wretch alive.  Here’s the way to carry out your attempts in style!