broker,—nothing hinders your being the object of popular admiration, provided only that you've impudence enough, and brass enough, and a happy talent for bad language.
Cust. Well, I don't require your instructions in that line. Possibly, however, you might do for a bargeman or a gardener,[1] at a pinch, if this party has a mind to sell you for a couple of oboli,—I couldn't give more.
Merc. (eagerly). Take him at your own bidding; we're glad to get rid of him, he is so troublesome,—bawls so, and insults everybody up and down, and uses such very bad language.
Jup. Call out the next—the Cyrenaic there, in purple, with the garland on.
Merc. Now, gentlemen, let me beg your best attention. This next lot is a very valuable one—quite suited to parties in a good position. Here's Pleasure and Perfect Happiness, all for sale! Who'll give me a bidding now, for perpetual luxury and enjoyment? [A Cyrenaic, bearing traces of recent debauch, staggers into the ring.]
Cust. Come forward here, and tell us what you know: I shouldn't mind buying you, if you've any useful qualities.
Merc. Don't disturb him, sir, if you please, just now—don't ask him any questions. The truth is, he
- ↑ For the accomplishments of the bargemen and vine-dressers in the way of bad language we have Horace's testimony, Sat. i. 5 and 7. The first-mentioned fraternity bear the same reputation still.
