ou are attempting any trickery about
this marriage, to the end that it may not take place; or are desirous
that in this matter it should be proved how knowing you are; I'll hand
you over, Davus, beaten with stripes, to the mill,[40] even to your
dying day, upon this condition and pledge, that if {ever} I release
you, I shall grind in your place. Now, do you understand this? Or not
yet even this?

DAV. Yes, perfectly: you have now spoken so plainly upon the subject,
you have not used the least circumlocution.

SIM. In any thing would I more willingly allow myself to be imposed
upon than in this matter.

DAV. Fair words, I entreat.

SIM. You are ridiculing {me}: you don't at all deceive me. I give you
warning, don't act rashly, and don't say you were not warned. Take
care. (_Shaking his stick, goes into the house._)

SCENE III.

_DAVUS alone._

DAV. (_to himself._) Assuredly, Davus, there's no room for
slothfulness or inactivity, so far as I've just now ascertained the
old man's mind about the marriage; which if it is not provided against
by cunning, will be bringing either myself or my master to ruin. What
to do, I am not determined; whether I should assist Pamphilus or obey
the old man. If I desert the former, I fear for his life; if I assist
him, I {dread} the other's threats, on whom it will be a difficult
matter to impose. In the first place, he has now found out about this
amour; with hostile feelings he watches me, lest I should be devising
some trickery against the marriage. If he discovers it, I'm undone; or
even {if} he chooses to allege any pretext, whether rightfully or
wrongfully, he will consign me headlong to the mill. To these evils
this one is besides added for me. This Andrian, whether she is {his}
wife, or whether {his} mistress, is pregnant by Pamphilus. It is worth
while to hear their effrontery; for it is an undertaking {worthy} of
those in their dotage, not of those who dote in love;[41] whatever she
shall bring forth, they have resolved to rear;[42] and they are now
contriving among themselves a certain scheme, that she is a citizen of
Attica. There was formerly a certain old man of this place,
a merchant; he was shipwrecked off the Isle of Andros; he died. {They
say} that there, the father of Chrysis, on that occasion, sheltered
this girl, thrown on shore, an orphan, a little child. What nonsense!
To myself at least it isn't very probable; the fiction pleases them,
however. But Mysis