I Exordium
Asot. What do you say, Tricongius? How splendidly that Brabantian entertained us yesterday!
Tric. A curse on him, for I could not rest the whole night! I was sick, with all due respect to you let me say it (sit habitus honos vestris auribus), and then tossed myself about all over the bed, now on the inner, then on the outer, frame of the bed. It seemed to me as if I should vomit forth throat and stomach. Even now I cannot use my eyes or ears for headache. It is as if I had heavy bars of lead lying on my forehead and eyes.
Asot. Fasten a band round your forehead and temples, and you will seem to be a king.
Tric. Much rather like Bacchus himself, from whom the institution of diadems on kings was derived.
Asot. Go home, then, and sleep off the soaking.
Tric. Home, indeed! There is no place I should shun so much as my home. I should feel too much aversion to meet my shrieking wife. For if she were to see me now she would entertain me with longer homilies than Chrysostom.
Abstem. And this is what you call being treated splendidly!
Glauc. Clearly so; for your throat and stomach have been well washed!
Abstem. And the hands too?
Glauc. Not even once.
Asot. Nay, on the contrary, often with wine and milk, whilst we dipped our hands in one another’s bowls (pateras).
Glauc. What could be said more splendidly? Fancy the fingers sticking with the fat of meat and with sauces.
Abstem. By the gods, keep quiet! Who could listen without nausea to the unclean business, much less look upon it, or taste of such wine or milk.
Asot. By your faith, ye gods! are you so delicate a man, Abstemius, that you cannot swallow this even with your ears? What would you do with your palate, if you were like us? But listen to me, Tricongius, sweetest fellow-wine-bibber, let us send some boy to fetch us some of the same wine in that clay vessel. There is no surer antidote against this poison.
Tric. Has this been tried?
Asot. Why should it not be so? Don’t you remember the verses which Colax sings:—
Ad sanandum morsum canis nocturni,
Sume ex pilis eiusdem canis.78
Plautus
Glauc. Tell us, I beg you, all about the banquet.
Abstem. Nay, don’t! unless you wish me to part with all I have in my stomach, and even the vitals themselves.
Glauc. Then go away for a short time.
Asot. I will tell you as frankly as possible, but so as nowhere to go beyond the limits of decency.
Glauc. Begin, I beseech you. Give your attention, Abstemius.
Asot. My dear Glaucia, before everything, I am of opinion that there is no class of men which can be likened to festive and liberal hosts at banquets. Some show knowledge of all kinds of things, i.e., of mere trifles; others show with pride, experience, and wisdom gathered from practice. And what of this? There are people who indeed have wealth, but, wretched that they are, they don’t dare to spend it. What they have, they take pleasure in storing up. A kindly host is everywhere of use, everywhere is welcome. The very sight of him is sufficient to heal the sadness of the mind and scatter it; and if a man has any wretchedness, the memory of the feast takes it away. So, too, does the hope and expectation of a coming feast. All the other so-called mental blessings I don’t care to look on; they are, to me, slight and unfruitful.
Abstem. I ask you, Asotus, who is the author of such a fine sentiment?
Asot. I and all like me, i.e., a host of people from Belgic France, from the Seine to the Rhine. There are only a few poor and very sparing men who think differently, who envy Abstemius his name, and wish to be called frugal, or else certain distinguished people who are puffed up with a great opinion of their own wisdom, i.e., an empty word, whom we (i.e., the greatest and chief part of mankind) simply laugh at.
Abstem. What do I hear?