"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 at Glyco! He's smoked himself out in fine shape, and as
long as he lives, he'll carry that stain! No one but the devil himself
can wipe that out, but chickens always come home to roost. My nose tells
me that Mammaea will set out a spread: two bits apiece for me and mine!
And he'll nick Norbanus out of his political pull if he does; you all
know that it's to his interest to hump himself to get the best of him.
And honestly, what did that fellow ever do for us? He exhibited some two
cent gladiators that were so near dead they'd have fallen flat if you
blew your breath at them. I've seen better thugs sent against wild
beasts! And the cavalry he killed looked about as much like the real
thing as the horsemen on the lamps; you would have taken them for
dunghill cocks! One plug had about as much action as a jackass with a
pack-saddle; another was club-footed; and a third who had to take the
place of one that was killed, was as good as dead, and hamstrung into the
bargain. There was only one that had any pep, and he was a Thracian, but
he only fought when we egged him on. The whole crowd was flogged
afterwards. How the mob did yell 'Lay it on!' They were nothing but
runaways. And at that he had the nerve to say, 'I've given you a show.'
'And I've applauded,' I answered; 'count it up and you'll find that I
gave more than I got! One hand washes the other.'"