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"Hoc igitur, quo to Jovis aurem impellere tentas, Dic agedum Staio: 'proh Jupiter! O bone, clamet, Jupiter! At sese non clamet Jupiter ipse." 'O Jupiter! O good Jupiter! let him cry. Think you Jupiter himself would not cry out upon it?"
And as the night wore on the dance would become wilder, the laughter louder, the fire of jokes more fierce. Healths would be drunk with clinking glasses, brindisi shouted, tricks played. Cards would be got out. There would be a group intent on "Scopa," another calling "Mi staio!" "Carta da vente!" throwing down the soldi and picking them up greedily in "Sette e mezzo."
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