“Here is to your health, worthy Cato of the North!” cried Martial mockingly. “Reveal his name to me, O Muse! and I will dedicate to you five and twenty epigrams on his virtue.”
“He has a sharp muzzle,” muttered Norbanus to Aurelius. “You will get the worst of it.”
“No doubt of that,” said Aurelius. “Fencing with words was never my strong ground.”
“Just my case; and I cannot stand his accursed ribaldry. These fellows are like eels, it is impossible to hold them. It is the city tone, my dear friend! Our Stephanus now—only see how the man is made up—now, full in the light. By Castor! he is touched up and painted like a wench—Stephanus again, is a master in the war of words. But he gives you a pebble for a gem; everything about him is false, even his hair. But beware of him; he will try to make mince-meat of you.”
“I say, Martial,” said a harsh voice: “Who is going to publish the epigrams you gave us to-day?”
“I do not yet know. Possibly Tryphon."[159]
“Well, in the course of the month.”
“So soon? Listen, when the book comes out, may I send to you to borrow a copy?”
“You are too kind, my dear Lupercus; but why should you give yourself and a slave so much trouble? I live quite high up on the Quirinal.[160] You can get what you want much nearer to you. You pass every day by the Argiletum. There you will find a very interesting shop, exactly opposite the Forum of Caesar. Atrectus, the bookseller, will feel himself honored in selecting a beautiful copy for you—almost given away too, as I may say, for with purple letters and smoothly pumiced it costs but five or six denarii."[161]