Still addressing his father, Drusus said, “’Twas with great regret I learned that our grandmother Livia could not attend our dinner.”
To these words, which were received as an insult, Tiberius sarcastically replied, “With equal regret I heard that it would be impossible for Sejanus to attend.”
Drusus had meant no insolence, but the words of his father were a direct affront. Curbing his anger, but speaking in a loud tone, he said, “Henceforth, O father, refrain from speaking that name before me.”
At the loud, harsh tones of Drusus the guests became even more constrained. With a deeper frown on his forehead and a sneer on his lips, Tiberius said: “Thou knowest not the man thou abusest. No one in Rome sacrifices personal pleasures for public duties more than he does. Affairs of state occupy all his time. His unselfish nature is one that all should imitate. Vilify the sluggard who revels continually. Revile not the just. Sejanus is my friend, and nothing shall be spoken before me that tends to dishonor him.”
Hearing his father thus championing the cause of Sejanus, Drusus, although chagrined, assumed a respectful demeanor, and rising from his couch and approaching his father, said: “Then let discord go her way, O father Tiberius! The impetuosity of anger often produces burning words. We will drink a toast to peace. Let bitterness be washed away by the crimson wine! What, ho! a toast!”
At this command Lygdus entered, bearing on a silver tray several cups of silver and one of gold. A slave bore a large urn filled with wine. Drusus took the vessel and filled the golden cup and one of silver.
Lygdus passed the cups to the emperor, who took the one of silver.
Drusus, seeing the golden cup left for him, said, “This cup is for thee, O father!”
“Nay, my son,” said Tiberius, with his eyes riveted on Drusus.
“But I insist, O father!”