1.2e
The Golden Ass 1.2e · Stop lying
The first words Lucius overhears: one traveller mocking the story the other has just told.
· · ·
Ac1
And
dum2
while
ausculto3
I listen in
quid4
to what
sermonis5
talk
agitarent6
they were havingthey were tossing about
, alter7
one of them
, exerto8
with a loudlet out
cachinno9
guffaw
: Parce10
Stopspare
inquit11
he said
, mentiendo12
lying
in13
into
verba14
words
haec15
like these
ista16
of yours
, tam17
so
absurda18
absurdout of tune
-que19
and
tam20
so
immania21
monstrous
And while I listen in to what talk they were having, one of them, with a loud guffaw: ‘Stop,’ he said, ‘lying into words like these of yours, so absurd and so monstrous.’
And while I listen in to what talk they were having, one of them, with a loud guffaw: ‘Stop,’ he said, ‘lying into words like these of yours, so absurd and so monstrous.’
Interpretation
And while I was listening in to what they were talking about, one of them let out a guffaw: “Stop,” he said, “lying your way into words as absurd and monstrous as these.”
We come in on the middle of an argument. The story the first man has just told is never repeated for us; we hear only the second man’s verdict, “absurd and monstrous.” Lewis & Short’s first sense of absurdus is “out of tune, hence giving a disagreeable sound, harsh, rough,” and among its relatives it lists susurrus, the “whisper” the prologue offered in 1.1. The skeptic hears in the tale a sound out of tune.
Parce … mentiendo is the verb parcere, “to spare,” with what is to be spared in the ablative: “spare us the lying,” that is, “stop lying.” Lewis & Short lists the sense “to abstain or refrain from doing a thing; to forbear, leave off, desist, stop.” Cachinnus is loud laughter: “immoderate laughter, a laugh in derision, a jeering.”
1.2f
The Golden Ass 1.2f · Let me in on it
Lucius asks to hear the story, and insists that he is not a busybody.
· · ·
Hearing that, thirsty as always for something new: ‘No, really,’ I said, ‘share your talk with me, not, mind you, a busybody, but one who would like to know either everything or at least most things; besides, the charming pleasure of stories will smooth the roughness of the ridge that we are climbing.’