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Updated: June 15, 2025
"By Zeus!" cried Pratinas, "what is this? Whence came this new toga?" Agias writhed in his confinement. In the plentitude of the glory of his newly acquired freedom, he had come abroad in an elegant new toga; but he had laid it on a chair when he entered the room. There was an awkward pause outside; then Pratinas burst out, "You worthless Ethiopian, you, where did this toga come from?
From the origin of Tragedy and Comedy, and to the days of Thespis, and from this time to that of Aeschylus, all is doubt, conjecture, and obscurity; neither Aristotle, nor any other ancient writer, gives us the least insight into the state and progress of the Greek Drama; the names of a few, and but a few, tragedians, during this dark period, are handed down to us; such were Epigenes, the Sicyonion, and Pratinas, who wrote fifty-two plays, thirty-two of which are said to be satirical.
"Well, well, my dear fellow," said Pratinas, who, having won the stakes, was in a mood to be sympathetic, "we must really see what can be done to remedy matters." "I can see nothing!" was his answer. "Won't your father come to the rescue?" put in Gabinius, between deep pulls on a beaker. "My father!" snapped Ahenobarbus. "Never a sesterce will I get out of him!
I can't tell who of your men may hear us." "As you say," said Dumnorix, setting down the light at a little distance and coming closer. "You remember that little affair of last year," said Pratinas, continuing; "how you helped me get rid of a witness in a very troublesome law case?" "Ha! ha!" chuckled the giant, "I wish I had the sesterces I won then, in my coffer now."
"By Zeus!" burst out Pratinas, rubbing his crushed member. "What a grip is yours! Don't be alarmed. Surely you would be as willing to have one or two of your newest tiros hung on a cross, as stabbed on the arena especially when it will pay a great deal better?" "I don't follow you," said the Gaul, though a little reassured.
Cæsar was a stranger in a strange and probably hostile land, and to fail to take warning were suicide. He sent for Pothinus, and demanded the whereabouts of Achillas's army. The regent stammered that it was at Pelusium. Cæsar followed up the charge by inquiring about Pratinas. Pothinus swore that he was at Pelusium also.
"Well," replied Pratinas, "I don't need to tell you what I and my noble friend here Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus have come for. A little more business along the same line. Are you our man?" "I should say so," answered Dumnorix, with a grin worthy of a baboon. "Only make it worth my while."
The street in which Pratinas found himself was so dark, that he was fain to wait till his eyes accommodated themselves to the change. The street was no wider than an alley, yet packed with booths and hucksters, sellers of boiled peas and hot sausage, and fifty other wares.
But as the inner door was pushed aside by the vigilant keeper, all the rest of the crowd were kept out till Pratinas could pass within. The atrium of the house was a splendid sight, with its veined marble pillars, mosaic floor, bubbling fountain, choice frescoes, and expensive furniture upholstered in Tyrian purple.
"This is the sort of creature, Drusus," quoth he, derisively, "that is so dangerous that we must despatch him at once? Phui! Let him stand forth. I suppose he can still speak?" Pratinas made a pitiable picture.
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