By chance I was strolling the Sacred Way, and musing,
As I do, on some piece of nonsense, wholly absorbed,
When up runs a man I know only by name, who grabs
Me by the hand, crying: ‘How do you do, dear old thing?’
‘Fine, as it happens,’ I answer, ‘and best wishes to you.’
As he follows me, I add: ‘You’re after something?
He: ‘You should get to know me better, I’m learned.
I: ‘I congratulate you on that.’ Desperately trying
To flee, now I walk fast, now halt, and whisper a word
In the ear of my boy, as the sweat’s drenching me
Head to foot. While the fellow rattles on, praising
Street after street, the whole city, I silently whisper,
‘Oh Bolanus, to have your quick temper! Since I’m not
Replying, he says: ‘You’re dreadfully eager to go:
I’ve seen that a while: but it’s no use: I’ll hold you fast:
I’ll follow you wherever you’re going.’ ‘No need
For you to be dragged around: I’m off to see someone
You don’t know: he’s ill on the far side of Tiber,
Near Caesar’s Garden.’ ‘I’ve nothing to do, I’m a walker:
I’ll follow.’ Down go my ears like a sulky donkey,
When the load’s too much for his back. Then he starts:
‘’If I know anything, you’d not find a superior friend
In Viscus or Varius: who can write more, who can write
Faster than me? Who can dance more delicately?
Even Hermogenes would envy me when I sing.’
Here was my chance to break in: ‘Haven’t you a mother,
Relations who need you at home?’ ‘No, no one: they’re all
At rest.’ Fortunate people! Only I’m left. Despatch me:
Now the sad fate approaches an old Sabine woman
Uttered when I was a child, rattling her diviner’s urn:
‘No deadly poison shall slay him, no enemy blade shall destroy him,
No pleurisy carry him off, no lingering gout or cough:
Garrulous the man who’ll consume him at last: the talkers
He’ll take good care to avoid if he’s wise, as he grows older.’