They are consistent with their happiness,
Then call them hither, let them marry straight.
If, on the other hand, they bode for ill—
Evil to both—I pray you pause a while;
Let us take counsel in this case together,
As if she were your daughter, he my son.
Sim. Therefore I wish it, therefore I demand it;
Ah, Chremes! if it were not evident
For good, I would not ask it.
Chr. Well, how so?
Sim. Glycerium and my son have fallen out.
Chr. Well:
Sim. And irretrievably, as I believe.
Chr. Fables!
Sim. Nay, it is fact.
Chr. Hercle! e'en thus:
"Quarrels of lovers but renew their love."
Sim. Ah, Chremes! aid us, whilst the time avails;
Whilst passion is the prey of contumely;
Before the harlot tears convert to smiles;
Before the angry humour change to love,
Grant him the wife; won by connubial bliss,
And conversation with a worthy wife,
He will retrieve himself from depths of ill.
Chr. It may seem so to you, but not to me;
I have no faith in his so fickle love;
Nor will I trust it.
Sim. But how can you tell,
Unless you make essayal?
Chr. Essayal, by the hand
Of my dear daughter—no—that were unjust!
Sim. The utmost inconvenience could arise
