well
when I'm dead," he remarked, "as I do while I'm alive." He then ordered
wine to be poured into the punch-bowl. "Pretend," said he, "that you're
invited to my funeral feast." The thing had grown positively
nauseating, when Trimalchio, beastly drunk by now, bethought himself of
a new and singular diversion and ordered some horn-blowers brought into
the dining-room. Then, propped up by many cushions, he stretched
himself out upon the couch. "Let on that I'm dead," said he, "and say
something nice about me." The horn-blowers sounded off a loud funeral
march together, and one in particular, a slave belonging to an
undertaker, made such a fanfare that he roused the whole neighborhood,
and the watch, which was patrolling the vicinity, thinking Trimalchio's
house was afire, suddenly smashed in the door and rushed in with their
water and axes, as is their right, raising a rumpus all their own. We
availed ourselves of this happy circumstance and, leaving Agamemnon in
the lurch, we took to our heels, as though we were running away from a
real conflagration.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Affairs start to go wrong, your friends will stand from under
Doctor's not good for anything except for a consolation
Everybody's business is nobody's business
He can teach you more than he knows himself
Learning's a fine thing, and a trade won't starve
Men are lions at home and foxes abroad
No one can show a dead man a good time
The loser's always the winner in arguments
Too many doctors did away with him
We know that you're only a fool with a lot of learning
Whenever you learn a thing, it's yours
Believes, on the spot, every tale
You can spot a louse on someone else
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Satyricon, Vol. 2
(The Dinner of Trimalchio), by Petronius Arbiter
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