This text is part of:
to himself . There's not a person born, nor will there be born, nor can there be found one, to whom I would now wish praises to be given, or on whom attentions bestowed, rather than on Venus. Ye great Gods, how joyous I am, and how I'm transported with joyousness! Such great tidings of joy has Cyamus brought to me this day; that my presents have been esteemed and deemed acceptable by Phronesium. While this now is a delight, then besides this in especial is rare honey-drink to me, that the Captain's presents are held as disagreable and not acceptable. I'm all enraptured! The ball's my own1; if the Captain's sent adrift, the woman will be mine. I'm saved, because I'm going to ruin; if I didn't go to ruin, it's clear I should die. Now I'll keep watch, what's going on there, who goes into the house, who comes out of doors; from here at a distance will I observe what is to be my lot. Because I've got nothing, my feelings remind me of one thing; I'll do everything by begging.
1 the ball's my own: "Mea pila est." A figure derived from the game of bandy-ball, which appears to have been played by striking the ball with the fists, as we do with the feet. See the Rudens, l. 721, and the Note. W have a similar proverbial saying: "He has the ball at his foot."
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.