[…]

LYSIMACHUS.

Well met! and greetings to you, Demipho. How are you? How goes it?

DEMIPHO.

As with one that’s most wretched.

LYSIMACHUS.

May the Gods grant better things.

DEMIPHO.

As for the Gods, it’s they that do this.

LYSIMACHUS.

What’s the matter?

DEMIPHO.

I’d tell you, if I saw that you had time or leisure.

LYSIMACHUS.

Although I have business in hand, if you wish for anything, Demipho, I’m never too busy to give attention to a friend.

DEMIPHO.

You speak of your kindness to myself who have experienced it. How do I seem to you as to age?

LYSIMACHUS.

A subject for Acheron – an antiquated, decrepit old fellow.

DEMIPHO.

You see in a wrong light. I am a child, Lysimachus, of seven years old.

LYSIMACHUS.

Are you in your senses, to say that you are a child?

DEMIPHO.

I’m telling what’s true.

LYSIMACHUS.

I’ faith, it has this moment come into my mind what you mean to say; directly a person is old, no longer has he sense or taste; people say that he has become a child again.

DEMIPHO.

Why, no; for I’m twice as hearty as ever I was before.

LYSIMACHUS.

I’ faith, it’s well that so it is, and I’m glad of it.

DEMIPHO.

Aye, and if you did but know; with my eyes, too, I see even better now than I did formerly.

LYSIMACHUS.

That’s good.

DEMIPHO.

Of a thing that’s bad, I’m speaking.

LYSIMACHUS.

Then that same is not good.

DEMIPHO.

But, if I wished at all, could I venture to disclose something to you?

LYSIMACHUS.

Boldly.

DEMIPHO.

Give heed, then.

LYSIMACHUS.

It shall be carefully done.

DEMIPHO.

This day, Lysimachus, I’ve begun to go to school to learn my letters. I know three letters already.

LYSIMACHUS.

How? Three letters?

DEMIPHO. [Spelling]

A M O [I am in love].

LYSIMACHUS.

What! you, in love, with your hoary head, you most shocking old fellow?

DEMIPHO.

Whether that is hoary, or whether red, or whether black, I’m in love.

LYSIMACHUS.

You’re now playing upon me in this, I fancy, Demipho.

DEMIPHO.

Cut my throat, if it’s false, what I’m saying. That you may be sure I’m in love, take a knife, and do you cut off either my finger, or my ear, or my nose, or my lip: if I move me, or feel that I’m being cut, then, Lysimachus, I give you leave to torture me to death here with being in love.

Charinus is beside himself when he is given to believe that his father intends to sell his mistress. Cue a number of terrible misunderstandings.

LYSIMACHUS. [To himself]