"Now, take the case of that other man over there who has the freedman's place at the table. How well off do you suppose he is? I don't know anything against him, but he's seen the time when he had his little million; only, somehow or other, he went wrong. To-day I don't imagine he has a hair on his head that isn't mortgaged, and it isn't his own fault either, for there's no better man in the world; but it's the fault of his confounded freedmen who made way with everything that he had. You know the saying, 'Too many cooks spoil the broth,' and the other saying that 'He who loses money loses friends.' And what a fine profession he had, too, just as you see him now! He was an undertaker. He used to dine like a king on wild boar with pastry and birds, and he had cooks and bakers by the score. They used to spill more wine under his table than most men have in their wine-cellars. In fact, he was a fairy vision rather than a man. When his affairs got into Queer Street and he was afraid his creditors would think that things were in a bad way, he wanted to raise some money on his goods and chattels; so he advertised an auction of them in this fashion: 'Julius Proculus will hold an auction for the sale of his superfluous property.'" After this course, Trimalchio left the room for a few minutes, so that, feeling a certain freedom in the absence of our master, we began to draw each other into conversation. Dama, first of all, calling for a goblet, remarked: "A day is nothing. Night comes before you can turn around. That's why I think there's nothing better than to go from your bed straight to the dining-room. It's a cold climate we have here. Even a bath scarcely warms me up. In fact, a hot drink is my wardrobe. I've had several stiff drinks already, so that I'm loaded for bear; for the wine has gone to my head." At this point Seleucus interrupted him, remarking: