Soror

Haud scio quid eo opus sit, quae nec lac nec lanam ullam habent. sic sine astent. exsolvere quanti fuere, omnis fructus iam illis decidit. non vides, ut palantes solae liberae grassentur? quin aetate credo esse mutas:  ne balant quidem, quom a pecu cetero absunt. stultae atque haud malae videntur. revortamur intro, soror.

I don’t see any use in that, they haven’t any milk, or wool either.  Let them stand still as they are.  They’ve been worked to their full value; all the fruit has dropped off of them already.  Don’t you see how they straggle along aimlessly, alone, untended?  Why, I do believe they’re dumb with age; they don’t even bleat at being away from the rest of the flock.  They seem perfectly harmless—­just silly.  Let’s go back inside, sister.

Nic.

  Ilico ambae 1140
  manete:  haec oves volunt vos.

      Stay where you are, both of you:  these sheep want you.

Soror

  Prodigium hoc quidemst:  humana nos voce appellant oves.

      Dear, dear, miraculous!  The sheep are addressing us, quite
      as if they were human!

Nic.

  Haec oves vobis malam rem magnam, quam debent, dabunt

      These sheep are going to give you all the trouble they owe
      you.

Bacch.

  Si quam debes, te condono:  tibi habe, numquam abs te petam.
  sed quid est quapropter nobis vos malum minitamini?

      If you owe anything, I’ll forgive it you:  keep it yourself—­
      I’ll never come to you for it.  But what’s the reason for
      your threatening us with trouble?

Phil.

  Quia nostros agnos conclusos istic esse aiunt duos.

      Because they say our lambs are shut up in there, (pointing
      to house) two of them.

Nic.

  Et praeter eos agnos meus est istic clam mordax canis: 
  qui nisi nobis producuntur iam atque emittuntur foras,
  arietes truces nos erimus, iam in vos incursabimus.

And besides those lambs, there’s a dog of mine, a biter, skulking in there:  unless these beasts are produced for us immediately and let out of doors, we’ll turn into ferocious rams, and immediately butt you.

Bacch.

  Soror, est quod te volo secreto.

      Sister, I want a word with you in private, (takes her
      aside)

Soror.

  Eho, amabo.

      (inquiringly) Well, well, there’s a dear!

Nic.

  Quo illaec abeunt?

      Where are they off to?

Bacch.

  Senem illum tibi dedo ultenorem, lepide ut lenitum reddas; 1150
  ego ad hunc iratum adgrediar, si possumus nos hos intro inlicere huc.