Enter Syrus, from the house of Micio.
Syr. (speaking to Æschinus within.) Say no more; I myself will arrange with him; I’ll make him glad to take the money at once, and say besides that he has been fairly dealt with. (Addressing Sannio.) Sannio, how is this, that I hear you have been having some dispute or other with my master?
San. I never saw a dispute on more unequal terms[37] than the one that has happened to-day between us; I, with being thumped, he, with beating me, were both of us quite tired.
Syr. Your own fault.
San. What could I do?
Syr. You ought to have yielded to the young man.
San. How could I more so, when to-day I have even afforded my face to his blows?
Syr. Well—are you aware of what I tell you? To slight money on some occasions is sometimes the surest gain. What!—were you afraid, you greatest simpleton alive, if you had parted with ever so little[38] of your right, and had humored the young man, that he would not repay you with interest?
San. I do not pay ready money for hope.
Syr. Then you’ll never make a fortune. Get out with you, Sannio; you don’t know how to take in mankind.