ibere imperium magister, si ipsus primus vapulet?

When you go to his father with a protest, he talks to the
youngster in this strain: (_mimicking_) "You're father's own
boy so long as you can defend yourself against abuse." Then
the tutor is summoned: "Hey, you worthless old baggage,
don't you touch my boy merely for acting like a lad of
spirit!" Judgment pronounced, the court adjourns. Can a
teacher exert authority here under such conditions, if he
is beaten first himself?

_Mnes._

Acris postulatio haec est. cum huius dicta intellego,
mira sunt ni Pistoclerus Lydum pugnis contudit. 450

(_aside_) Here's a warm protest! Judging from his remarks,
it's a wonder if Pistoclerus hasn't been punching Lydus's
head.

_Lydus_

Sed quis hic est, quem astantem video ante ostium? o Philoxene,
deos propitios me videre quam illum haud mavellem mihi.

(_looking in the direction of Mnesilochus_) But who is this
I see standing in front of the door? (_recognizing him_) Ah,
Philoxenus, that is a man whose support I should value no
less than that of the gods!

_Phil._

Quis illic est?

Who is it?

_Lydus_

Mnesilochus, gnati tui sodalis.[15]
haud consimili ingenio atque ille est qui in lupanari accubat.
fortunatum Nicobulum, qui illum produxit sibi.

Mnesilochus, your son's chum. And a youth so, so different
from the one lolling in that vile house! (_pointing to
Bacchis's_) Happy, happy Nicobulus to have brought up such
a lad!

_Phil._

Salvos sis, Mnesiloche, salvom te advenire gaudeo.

(_stepping forward_) How are you, Mnesilochus? I'm glad to
see you safely back.

_Mnes._

Di te ament, Philoxene.

(_heartily shaking hands_) God bless you, Philoxenus!

_Lydus_

Hic enim rite productust patri:
in mare it, rem familiarem curat, custodit domum,
obsequens oboediensque est mori atque imperiis patris.
hic sodalis Pistoclero iam puer puero fuit; 460
triduom non interest aetatis uter maior siet:
verum ingenium plus triginta annis maiust quam alteri.

Ah, yes, here is a son to rejoice a father's heart: goes to
sea, attends to family affairs, is the bulwark of the home,
observes and obeys his father's every wish and word. He was
Pistoclerus's chum even when they were boys--not three