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Updated: May 27, 2025
Though we wondered greatly, we believed none the less implicitly and, kissing the table, we besought the night-hags to attend to their own affairs while we were returning home from dinner. As far as I was concerned, the lamps already seemed to burn double and the whole dining-room was going round, when "See here, Plocamus," Trimalchio spoke up, "haven't you anything to tell us?
When Trimalchio had, in a measure, regained his composure, which took but a little while, he ordered that a huge vessel be filled with mixed wine, and that drinks be served to all the slaves sitting around our feet, adding as an afterthought, "If anyone refuses to drink, pour it on his head: business is business, but now's the time for fun."
While he was yet speaking, a cock crow'd, at which Trimalchio grew disordered, and commanded the wine to be thrown under table, and sprinkle the larnps with it; then changing a ring to his right hand, "it is not for nothing," said he, "this trumpeter has given us notice; for either the house should be on fire, or one of the neighbourhood will kill himself: Far from us be it, and therefore, whoever brings me this discoverer I'll give him a reward."
This held a while, till Trimalchio calling for a second service to entertain his new guests, the servants took away the tables that were before us, and having brought others, strew'd the room with pin-dust, mixt with vermillion and saffron; and what I never saw before, the dust of a looking-glass ground to powder.
The thing we received was a kind of shell of at least six pounds weight, made of paste, and moulded into the figure of an egg, which we easily broke; and for my part, I was like to have thrown away my share; for it seemed to me to have a chick in it; till hearing an old guest of the tables saying, it was some good bit or other, I searched further into it, and found a delicate fat wheatear in the middle of a well-pepper'd yolk: On this Trimalchio stopped his play for a while, and requiring the like for himself, proclaim'd, if any of us would have any more metheglin, he was at liberty to take it; when of a sudden the musick gave the sign, and the first course was scrabled away by a company of singers and dancers; but in the rustle it happening that a dish fell on the door, a boy took it up, and Trimalchio taking notice of it, pluck'd him by the ears, and commanded him to throw it down again; on which the groom of the chamber came with a broom and swept away the silver dish, with whatsoever else had fallen from the table.
While he was thus talking, a cup dropt out of a boy's hand; on which, Trimalchio looking over his shoulder at him, bad him begone, and kill himself immediately; "for," said he, "thou art careless and mind'st not what thou art about." The boy hung his lip, and besought him; but he said, "What! dost thou beseech me, as if I required some difficult matter of thee?
"Spoke like a gentleman," replyed Agamemnon. But making nothing of the matter, "If it be so," said Trimalchio, "where lies the dispute? And if it be not so, 'tis nothing." While we all humm'd this and the like stuff, "I beseech ye," said he, "my dear Agamemnon, do you remember the twelve labours of Hercules, or the story of Ulysses, how a Cyclop put his thumb out of joint with a mawkin?
Trimalchio also when he mimicked the trumpets, looked on his minion and called him Croesus: Yet the boy was blear-eye'd, and swathing up a little black bitch with nasty teeth, and over-grown with fat, in green swadlingclouts, he set half a loaf on the table, which she refusing, he cram'd her with it: on which Trimalchio commanded the guardian of his house and family, Scylax, to be brought; when presently was led in a beautiful mastiff in a chain, who having a hint given him by a knock of the porter's foot, lay down before the table: whereupon Trimalchio throwing him a manchet; "There's no one," said he, "in this house of mine, loves me better than this dog."
Trimalchio himself has estates as broad as the flight of a kite is long, and piles of money. There's more silver plate lying in his steward's office than other men have in their whole fortunes! And as for slaves, damn me if I believe a tenth of them knows the master by sight.
Drinking is a lost art, eating a forgotten ceremony. The pendulum has swung from Trimalchio back to Trimalchio. Quality is lost in quantity. The tables groan, the cooks groan, the guests groan, feasting is a nightmare.
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