"And when it comes to silver, I'm a connoisseur; I have goblets as big as
wine-jars, a hundred of 'em more or less, with engraving that shows how
Cassandra killed her sons, and the dead boys are lying so naturally that
you'd think 'em alive. I own a thousand bowls which Mummius left to my
patron, where Daedalus is shown shutting Niobe up in the Trojan horse,
and I also have cups engraved with the gladiatorial contests of Hermeros
and Petraites: they're all heavy, too. I wouldn't sell my taste in these
matters for any money!" A slave dropped a cup while he was running on in
this fashion. Glaring at him, Trimalchio said, "Go hang yourself, since
you're so careless." The boy's lip quivered and he immediately commenced
to beg for mercy. "Why do you pray to me?" Trimalchio demanded, at
this: "I don't intend to be harsh with you, I'm only warning you against
being so awkward." Finally, however, we got him to give the boy a pardon
and no sooner had this been done than the slave started running around
the room crying, "Out with the water and in with the wine!" We all paid
tribute to this joke, but Agamemnon in particular, for he well knew what
strings to pull in order to secure another invitation to dinner. Tickled
by our flattery, and mellowed by the wine, Trimalchio was just about
drunk. "Why hasn't one of you asked my Fortunata to dance?" he
demanded, "There's no one can do a better cancan, believe me," and he
himself raised his arms above his head and favored us with an
impersonation of Syrus the actor; the whole household chanting:
Oh bravo
Oh bravissimo
in chorus, and he would have danced out into the middle of the room
before us all, had not Fortunata whispered in his ear, telling him,
I suppose, that such low buffoonery was not in keeping with his dignity.
But nothing could be so changeable as his humor, for one minute he stood
in awe of Fortunata, but his natural propensities would break out the
next.