[The Satyricon<br> Complete by Petronius Arbiter]@TWC D-Link book
The Satyricon
Complete

CHAPTER THE NINETY-SECOND
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"While I was bathing," he went on, "I was almost beaten up for trying to recite a poem to the people sitting around the basin, and when I had been thrown out of the baths, just like I was out of the theatre, I hunted through every nook and cranny of the building, calling 'Encolpius, Encolpius,' at the top of my voice.

A naked youth at the other end, who had lost his clothes, was bawling just as loudly and no less angrily for Giton! As for myself, the slaves took me for a maniac, and mimicked me in the most insolent manner, but a large crowd gathered around him, clapping its hands in awe-struck admiration, for so heavy and massive were his private parts, that you would have thought that the man himself was but an appendage of his own member! Oh such a man! He could do his bit all right! I haven't a doubt but that he could begin on the day before and never finish till the day after the next! And he soon found a friend, of course: some Roman knight or other, I don't know his name, but he bears a bad reputation, so they say, threw his own mantle around the wanderer and took him off home with himself, hoping, I suppose, to have the sole enjoyment of so huge a prize.

But I couldn't get my own clothing back from the officious bath attendant till I found some one who could identify me, which only goes to show that it is more profitable to rub up the member than it is to polish the mind!" While Eumolpus was relating all this, I changed countenance continually, elated, naturally, at the mishaps of my enemy, and vexed at his good fortune; but I controlled my tongue nevertheless, as if I knew nothing about the episode, and read aloud the bill of fare.

(Hardly had I finished, when our humble meal was served.

The food was plain but succulent and nutritious, and the famished scholar Eumolpus, fell to ravenously.) Kind Providence unto our needs has tempered its decrees And met our wants, our carping plaints to still Green herbs, and berries hanging on their rough and brambly sprays Suffice our hunger's gnawing pangs to kill.
What fool would thirst upon a river's brink?
Or stand and freeze In icy blasts, when near a cozy fire?
The law sits armed outside the door, adulterers to seize, The chaste bride, guiltless, gratifies desire.
All Nature lavishes her wealth to meet our just demands; But, spurred by lust of pride, we stop at naught to gain our ends! (Our philosopher began to moralize, when he had gorged himself, leveling many critical shafts at those who hold every-day things in contempt, esteeming nothing except what is rare.).


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