Asot. By your faith, ye gods! are you so delicate a man, Abstemius, that you cannot swallow this even with your ears? What would you do with your palate, if you were like us? But listen to me, Tricongius, sweetest fellow-wine-bibber, let us send some boy to fetch us some of the same wine in that clay vessel. There is no surer antidote against this poison.
Tric. Has this been tried?
Asot. Why should it not be so? Don’t you remember the verses which Colax sings:—
Ad sanandum morsum canis nocturni,
Sume ex pilis eiusdem canis.[78]
Plautus
Glauc. Tell us, I beg you, all about the banquet.
Abstem. Nay, don’t! unless you wish me to part with all I have in my stomach, and even the vitals themselves.
Glauc. Then go away for a short time.
Asot. I will tell you as frankly as possible, but so as nowhere to go beyond the limits of decency.