The old man's name is Philocleon,[29]
'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,[30]
for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.
'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,[30]
for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.
Aristophanes
[16] Thus, to be judging is
his hobby, and he groans if he is not sitting on the first seat. He does
not close an eye at night, and if he dozes off for an instant his mind
flies instantly to the clepsydra. [17] He is so accustomed to hold the
balloting pebble, that he awakes with his three fingers pinched
together[18] as if he were offering incense to the new moon. If he sees
scribbled on some doorway, "How charming is Demos,[19] the son of
Pyrilampes! " he will write beneath it, "How charming is Cemos! "[20] His
cock crowed one evening; said he, "He has had money from the accused to
awaken me too late. "[21] As soon as he rises from supper he bawls for his
shoes and away he rushes down there before dawn to sleep beforehand,
glued fast to the column like an oyster. [22] He is a merciless judge,
never failing to draw the convicting line[23] and return home with his
nails full of wax like a bumble-bee. Fearing he might run short of
pebbles[24] he keeps enough at home to cover a sea-beach, so that he may
have the means of recording his sentence. Such is his madness, and all
advice is useless; he only judges the more each day. So we keep him under
lock and key, to prevent his going out; for his son is broken-hearted
over this mania. At first he tried him with gentleness, wanted to
persuade him to wear the cloak no longer,[25] to go out no more; unable
to convince him, he had him bathed and purified according to the
ritual[26] without any greater success, and then handed him over the the
Corybantes;[27] but the old man escaped them, and carrying off the
kettle-drum,[28] rushed right into the midst of the Heliasts. As Cybele
could do nothing with her rites, his son took him again to Aegina and
forcibly made him lie one night in the temple of Asclepius, the God of
Healing, but before daylight there he was to be seen at the gate of the
tribunal. Since then we let him go out no more, but he escaped us by the
drains or by the skylights, so we stuffed up every opening with old rags
and made all secure; then he drove short sticks into the wall and sprang
from rung to rung like a magpie. Now we have stretched nets all round the
court and we keep watch and ward.
The old man's name is Philocleon,[29]
'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,[30]
for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.
BDELYCLEON. Xanthias! Sosias! Are you asleep?
XANTHIAS. Oh! oh!
SOSIAS. What is the matter?
XANTHIAS. Why, Bdelycleon is rising.
BDELYCLEON. Will neither of you come here? My father has got into the
stove-chamber and is ferreting about like a rat in his hole. Take care he
does not escape through the bath drain.
his hobby, and he groans if he is not sitting on the first seat. He does
not close an eye at night, and if he dozes off for an instant his mind
flies instantly to the clepsydra. [17] He is so accustomed to hold the
balloting pebble, that he awakes with his three fingers pinched
together[18] as if he were offering incense to the new moon. If he sees
scribbled on some doorway, "How charming is Demos,[19] the son of
Pyrilampes! " he will write beneath it, "How charming is Cemos! "[20] His
cock crowed one evening; said he, "He has had money from the accused to
awaken me too late. "[21] As soon as he rises from supper he bawls for his
shoes and away he rushes down there before dawn to sleep beforehand,
glued fast to the column like an oyster. [22] He is a merciless judge,
never failing to draw the convicting line[23] and return home with his
nails full of wax like a bumble-bee. Fearing he might run short of
pebbles[24] he keeps enough at home to cover a sea-beach, so that he may
have the means of recording his sentence. Such is his madness, and all
advice is useless; he only judges the more each day. So we keep him under
lock and key, to prevent his going out; for his son is broken-hearted
over this mania. At first he tried him with gentleness, wanted to
persuade him to wear the cloak no longer,[25] to go out no more; unable
to convince him, he had him bathed and purified according to the
ritual[26] without any greater success, and then handed him over the the
Corybantes;[27] but the old man escaped them, and carrying off the
kettle-drum,[28] rushed right into the midst of the Heliasts. As Cybele
could do nothing with her rites, his son took him again to Aegina and
forcibly made him lie one night in the temple of Asclepius, the God of
Healing, but before daylight there he was to be seen at the gate of the
tribunal. Since then we let him go out no more, but he escaped us by the
drains or by the skylights, so we stuffed up every opening with old rags
and made all secure; then he drove short sticks into the wall and sprang
from rung to rung like a magpie. Now we have stretched nets all round the
court and we keep watch and ward.
The old man's name is Philocleon,[29]
'tis the best name he could have, and the son is called Bdelycleon,[30]
for he is a man very fit to cure an insolent fellow of his boasting.
BDELYCLEON. Xanthias! Sosias! Are you asleep?
XANTHIAS. Oh! oh!
SOSIAS. What is the matter?
XANTHIAS. Why, Bdelycleon is rising.
BDELYCLEON. Will neither of you come here? My father has got into the
stove-chamber and is ferreting about like a rat in his hole. Take care he
does not escape through the bath drain.
