Ascyltos was making answer to his railing; when Trimalchio, pleased with that good grace of speaking, “Go to,” said he, “no more of this wild talk, let us rather be pleasant:  And you Hermeros, bear with the young-man, his blood boils; be thou the soberer man; he that is overcome in this matter, goes off conqueror:  Even thy self, when thou wert such another capon, hadst nothing but coco, coco, and no heart at all.  Let us therefore, which is the better of the two, be heartily merry, and expect some admirers of Homer, that will be here presently.”

Nor were the words scarce out of his mouth, when in came a band of men, and made a rustling with their spears and targets.  Trimalchio leaned on his pillow, the Homerists ratled out Greek verses, as, arrogantly enough, they were wont to do, and he read a Latin book with a loud voice:  whereupon silence being made, “Know ye,” said he, “what fable they were upon?

“Diomedes and Ganymede were two brothers, and Helen was their sister; Agamemnon stole him away, and shamm’d Diana with a hind in his room, as says Homer in this place; and how the Trojans and the Parentines fought among themselves; but at last he got the better of it, and married his daughter Iphigenia to Achilles; on which Ajax run mad.  And there’s an end of the tale.”

On this the Homerists set up a shout, and a young boiled heifer with an helmet on her head, was handed in upon a mighty charger:  Ajax followed, and with a drawn sword, as if he were mad, made at it, now in one place, then in another, still acting a Morris-dancer; till having cut it into joints, he took them upon the point of his sword, and distributed them.  Nor had we much time to admire the conceit; for of a sudden the roof gave a crack, and the whole room shook:  For my part, I got on my feet, but all in confusion, for fear some tumbler might drop on my head; the same also were the rest of the guests; still gaping and expecting what new thing should come from the clouds:  when straight the main beams opened, and a vast circle was let down, all round which hung golden garlands, and alabaster pots of sweet ointments.

While we were required to take up these presents, I chanced to cast an eye upon the table, where there lay a fresh service of cheese-cakes and tarts, and in the midst of them a lusty rundlet, stuck round with all sorts of apples and grapes, as they commonly draw that figure.

We greedily reached our hands towards it, when of a sudden, a new diversion gave us fresh mirth; for all the cheese-cakes, apples and tarts, upon the least touch, threw out a delicious liquid perfurne, which fell upon us.

We judging the mess to be sacred, that was so gorgeously set out, stood up and began a health to the august founder, the father of his country:  After which reverence, failing to catch that catch could, we filled our napkins and I chiefly, who thought nothing too good for my boy Gito.