Book 2
2
How long shall I have to listen to your nonsense about young ladies and your stories of matches with shipowning families? Do I know any bride whether snub-nosed or pretty? Or that Philo of Alopece—I presume you mean him—so much as had a daughter of marriageable age? Anyway, he’s not even on good terms with my father. I remember he was sued by him only the other day for debt. He owed my father a talent, I believe, but refused to pay, and my father had him before the Admiralty Court, and had the greatest difficulty in squeezing it out of him, and didn’t get it all, he kept saying. Even if I had decided to marry, do you think I’d have passed over the daughter of Demeas, who was a General last year, particularly as she was a cousin on my mother’s side, and be marrying Philo’s daughter instead? Wherever did you hear this story? What empty jealous ideas have you invented for yourself, Myrtium, that you lash out so blindly?
3
Then you’re not getting married, Pamphilus?
3
Are you out of your mind, Myrtium, or is it a hang-over? Though I must say we remained quite sober last night.
3
It was Doris here who gave me this nasty shock. I sent her out to buy some wool for the little stranger, and to pray to Artemis to deliver me safely, and she’d met Lesbia, she told me, and—but it’d be better for you yourself, Doris, to tell him what you heard, unless you made all this up.
3
Ruin take me, mistress, if I told a single lie. When I got to the town-hall, I met Lesbia who was all smiles and told me that our lover, Pamphilus, was marrying Philo’s daughter. She said that if I didn’t believe her, I was to peep into your alley and see the garlands everywhere, the girl-pipers, the commotion, and the people singing the wedding hymn.
3
Well, Doris, did you take a peep?
3
I certainly did, and I saw everything, just as she said.
