Bacchides, or The Twin Sisters (440-473)

But now-a-days, before he is seven years old, if you touch a boy with your hand, at once the child breaks his tutor’s head with his tablet. When you go to complain to the father, thus says the father to the child: Be you my own dear boy, since you can defend yourself from an injury. The tutor then is called for; Hallo! you old good-for-nothing[*],

don’t you be touching the child for this reason, that he has behaved so boldly. and thus the despised tutor becomes just like a lantern[*] with his oiled linen rags. Judgment pronounced, they go away thence. Can this preceptor then, on these terms, keep up his authority, if he himself is to be beaten the first?

This is a severe accusation. So far as I understand his words,

’tis strange if Pistoclerus has never thumped Lydus with his fists.

But who is it that I see standing here before the door? O Philoxenus, I would not prefer for myself to behold even the propitious Gods rather than him.

Who’s this?

Why, he’s Mnesilochus, the friend of your son. He is not of a like turn of mind with him who reclines and takes his meals in brothels.

Fortunate Nicobulus! who begot him for himself.

My greetings to you, Mnesilochus; I’m glad that you have arrived safe.

May the Gods favour you, Philoxenus.

He, now, was born at a lucky moment for his father; he goes to sea, attends to the interests of his family, takes care of the house, is obedient and attentive to the wish and commands of his father.

He, when but a boy, was the companion of Pistoclerus in his boyhood; ’tis not by three days that he is the older in age, but his disposition is more improved by thirty years than that of the other.

Beware of a mischief[*], and forbear to speak of him unjustly.

Hold your peace. You’re a foolish man, who cannot bear to have him badly spoken of who does badly.

But I would rather have him draw upon my mishaps than upon my savings[*].

Why so?

Because, if he were to draw upon my mishaps, he would each day be making them less.

Why, Lydus, are you censuring your pupil, my friend?

Your friend is ruined.

May the Gods forbid it.

’Tis so as I say. And further, I myself saw it when he was undone; I am not censuring him from hearsay.

What has been done by him?

He is disgracefully doting upon a harlot.

Won’t you be silent now?

She, too, like a tide, most voraciously swallows all up, whenever she has touched any one.

Where does this woman live?

Here.

Whence do they say she comes?

From Samos.

What’s her name?