Satyricon, vol 2, Trimalchio | Page 8

was not
the very best, they would beat up those belly-robbing grafters till they
looked like Jupiter had been at them. How well I remember Safinius;
he lived near the old arch, when I was a boy. For a man, he was one hot
proposition! Wherever he went, the ground smoked! But he was square,
dependable, a friend to a friend, you could safely play mora with him,
in the dark. But how he did peel them in the town hall: he spoke no
parables, not he! He did everything straight from the shoulder and his
voice roared like a trumpet in the forum. He never sweat nor spat. I
don't know, but I think he had a strain of the Asiatic in him. And how
civil and friendly-like he was, in returning everyone's greeting; called
us all by name, just like he was one of us! And so provisions were
cheap as dirt in those days. The loaf you got for an as, you couldn't eat,
not even if someone helped you, but you see them no bigger than a
bull's eye now, and the hell of it is that things are getting worse every
day; this colony grows backwards like a calf's tall! Why do we have to
put up with an AEdile here, who's not worth three Caunian figs and
who thinks more of an as than of our lives? He has a good time at home,
and his daily income's more than another man's fortune. I happen to
know where he got a thousand gold pieces. If we had any nuts, he'd not
be so damned well pleased with himself! Nowadays, men are lions at
home and foxes abroad. What gets me is, that I've already eaten my old
clothes, and if this high cost of living keeps on, I'll have to sell my
cottages! What's going to happen to this town, if neither gods nor men
take pity on it? May I never have any luck if I don't believe all this
comes from the gods! For no one believes that heaven is heaven, no
one keeps a fast, no one cares a hang about Jupiter: they all shut their
eyes and count up their own profits. In the old days, the married

women, in their stolas, climbed the hill in their bare feet, pure in heart,
and with their hair unbound, and prayed to Jupiter for rain! And it
would pour down in bucketfuls then or never, and they'd all come home,
wet as drowned rats. 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