The Satyricon of Petronius ArbiterPetronius Arbiter
General
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter
Petronius Arbiter
Rome -- Fiction; Satire, Latin -- Translations into English
His advice appear'd to me both wise and profitable; for at once it
deliver'd me from Ascyltos, and gave me hopes of living more happy:
Thus oblig'd by Eumolpus's good nature, I was sorry for the late
injury I had done him, and began to repent I appear'd his rival, since
it had occasion'd so many disasters.
At last, with tears, I beseech'd him to be friends with me too, for
that it was not in a rival's power to bound his rage; yet, that I
wou'd try neither to say, or do any thing that may offend him: and
hop'd so wise and good a man as he, wou'd leave in his mind no sign of
a former quarrel: for 'twas with men as with countrys, on rude
neglected grounds snows lay very long, but where the fruitful earth
was improv'd by culture, they presently melt off, and hardly leave a
print behind: Thus unfashion'd minds can't discharge their passions
suddenly, but where souls are inrich'd with instruction, they but
appear and vanish.
"And to confirm the truth of what you say," return'd Eumolpus, "all my
heat expires in this kiss; but, to prevent the designs of your
enemies, hasten with your wallets, and either follow me, or, if ye
like it, act the leaders."
He had not done speaking, when, hearing the door move, we turn'd
about, and saw a seaman, with a beard that made him appear terribly
grim: who saluted Eumolpus with a "Why dy'e stay, as if you did not
know how near the time 'twas?"
All immediately prepared for the march, Eumolpus loads his servants,
who had been all this while asleep; I, and Gito, pack'd our things
together, and, thanking our stars, enter'd the vessel.
We fixt our selves, as much out of the way as we could, under deck:
and it being not yet day, Eumolpus fell a-sleep: I, and Gito, cou'd
not take a wink: when reflecting afresh, that I had harbour'd in my
acquaintance, a rival more powerful than Ascyltos; I began to be much
troubled: but wisely allaying my grief, I thus reason'd with my self:
Is it so troublesom to share what we love? when the best of nature's
works are in common? The sun throws his rays on all. The moon, with
her infinite train of stars, serves to light even beasts to their
fodder: What below can boast an excellence of nature above the waters?
Yet they flow in publick for the use of all: only love seems sweeter
stol'n than when it's given us: so it is, we esteem nothing, unless
'tis envy'd by others; but what have I to fear in a rival, that age
and impotence conspire to render disagreeable? Who, when he has an
inclination, his body jades under him before he can reach the goal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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