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Read books online » Fiction » The Satyricon — Complete by Petronius Arbiter (book series for 12 year olds TXT) 📖

Book online «The Satyricon — Complete by Petronius Arbiter (book series for 12 year olds TXT) 📖». Author Petronius Arbiter



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But the gods all have the gout now, because we are not religious; and so our fields are burning up!”







CHAPTER THE FORTY-FIFTH.


“Don’t be so down in the mouth,” chimed in Echion, the ragman; “if it wasn’t that it’d be something else, as the farmer said, when he lost his spotted pig. If a thing don’t happen today, it may tomorrow. That’s the way life jogs along. You couldn’t name a better country, by Hercules, you couldn’t, if only the men had any brains. She’s in hot water right now, but she ain’t the only one. We oughtn’t to be so particular; heaven’s as far away everywhere else. If you were somewhere else, you’d swear that pigs walked around here already roasted. Think of what’s coming! We’ll soon have a fine gladiator show to last for three days, no training-school pupils; most of them will be freedmen. Our Titus has a hot head and plenty of guts and it will go to a finish. I’m well acquainted with him, and he’ll not stand for any frame-ups. It will be cold steel in the best style, no running away, the shambles will be in the middle of the amphitheatre where all the crowd can see. And what’s more, he has the coin, for he came into thirty million when his father had the bad luck to die. He could blow in four hundred thousand and his fortune never feel it, but his name would live forever. He has some dwarfs already, and a woman to fight from a chariot. Then, there’s Glyco’s steward; he was caught screwing Glyco’s wife. You’ll see some battle between jealous husbands and favored lovers. Anyhow, that cheap screw of a Glyco condemned his steward to the beasts and only published his own shame. How could the slave go wrong when he only obeyed orders? It would have been better if that she-piss- pot, for that’s all she’s fit for, had been tossed by the bull, but a fellow has to beat the saddle when he can’t beat the jackass. How could Glyco ever imagine that a sprig of Hermogenes’ planting could turn out well? Why, Hermogenes could trim the claws of a flying hawk, and no snake ever hatched out a rope yet! And look at Glyco! He’s smoked himself out in fine shape, and as long as he lives, he’ll carry that stain! No one but the devil himself can wipe that out, but chickens always come home to roost. My nose tells me that Mammaea will set out a spread: two bits apiece for me and mine! And he’ll nick Norbanus out of his political pull if he does; you all know that it’s to his interest to hump himself to get the best of him. And honestly, what did that fellow ever do for us? He exhibited some two cent gladiators that were so near dead they’d have fallen flat if you blew your breath at them. I’ve seen better thugs sent against wild beasts! And the cavalry he killed looked about as much like the real thing as the horsemen on the lamps; you would have taken them for dunghill cocks! One plug had about as much action as a jackass with a pack-saddle; another was club-footed; and a third who had to take the place of one that was killed, was as good as dead, and hamstrung into the bargain. There was only one that had any pep, and he was a Thracian, but he only fought when we egged him on. The whole crowd was flogged afterwards. How the mob did yell ‘Lay it on!’ They were nothing but runaways. And at that he had the nerve to say, ‘I’ve given you a show.’ ‘And I’ve applauded,’ I answered; ‘count it up and you’ll find that I gave more than I got! One hand washes the other.’”







CHAPTER THE FORTY-SIXTH


“Agamemnon, your looks seem to say, What’s this boresome nut trying to hand us?’ Well, I’m talking because you, who can talk book-foolishness, won’t. You don’t belong to our bunch, so you laugh in your sleeve at the way us poor people talk, but we know that you’re only a fool with a lot of learning. Well, what of it? Some day I’ll get you to come to my country place and take a look at my little estate. We’ll have fresh eggs and spring chicken to chew on when we get there; it will be all right even if the weather has kept things back this year. We’ll find enough to satisfy us, and my kid will soon grow up to be a pupil of yours; he can divide up to four, now, and you’ll have a little servant at your side, if he lives. When he has a minute to himself, he never takes his eyes from his tablets; he’s smart too, and has the right kind of stuff in him, even if he is crazy about birds. I’ve had to kill three of his linnets already. I told him that a weasel had gotten them, but he’s found another hobby, now he paints all the time. He’s left the marks of his heels on his Greek already, and is doing pretty well with his Latin, although his master’s too easy with him; won’t make him stick to one thing. He comes to me to get me to give him something to write when his master don’t want to work. Then there’s another tutor, too, no scholar, but very painstaking, though; he can teach you more than he knows himself. He comes to the house on holidays and is always satisfied with whatever you pay him. Some little time ago, I bought the kid some law books; I want him to have a smattering of the law for home use. There’s bread in that! As for literature, he’s got enough of that in him already; if he begins to kick, I’ve concluded that I’ll make him learn some trade; the barber’s, say, or the auctioneer’s, or even the lawyer’s. That’s one thing no one but the devil can do him out of! ‘Believe what your daddy says, Primigenius,’ I din into his ears every day, ‘whenever you learn a thing, it’s yours. Look at Phileros the attorney; he’d not be keeping the wolf from the door now if he hadn’t studied. It’s not long since he had to carry his wares on his back and peddle them, but he can put up a front with Norbanus himself now! Learning’s a fine thing, and a trade won’t starve.’”







CHAPTER THE FORTY-SEVENTH.


Twaddle of this sort was being bandied about when Trimalchio came in; mopping his forehead and washing his hands in perfume, he said, after a short pause, “Pardon me, gentlemen, but my stomach’s been on strike for the past few days and the doctors disagreed about the cause. But pomegranate rind and pitch steeped in vinegar have helped me, and I hope that my belly will get on its good behavior, for sometimes there’s such a rumbling in my guts that you’d think a bellowing bull was in there. So if anyone wants to do his business, there’s no call to be bashful about it. None of us was born solid! I don’t know of any worse torment than having to hold it in, it’s the one thing Jupiter himself can’t hold in. So you’re laughing, are you, Fortunata? Why, you’re always keeping me awake at night yourself. I never objected yet to anyone in my dining-room relieving himself when he wanted to, and the doctors forbid our holding it in. Everything’s ready outside, if the call’s more serious, water, close-stool, and anything else you’ll need. Believe me, when this rising vapor gets to the brain, it puts the whole body on the burn. Many a one I’ve known to kick in just because he wouldn’t own up to the truth.” We thanked him for his kindness and consideration, and hid our laughter by drinking more and oftener. We had not realized that, as yet, we were only in the middle of the entertainment, with a hill still ahead, as the saying

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