With that opening a glass bottle of spicknard, he caused us all to be anointed; and “I hope,” said he, “it will do as much good when I am dead, as it does while I am living”:  Then commanding the wine vessels to be filled again; “Fausie,” said he, “you are invited to my funeral feast.”  We by this time nauseated, were ready to vomit; Trimalchio also was gotten confoundedly drunk, when behold, a new interlude; he called for the coronets to come in; and, underset with pillows, and stretching himself at length on the bed, “suppose me,” said he, “now dead, say somewhat, I beseech you, in praise of me.”

Whereupon the coronets sounded as it had been at a funeral; but one above the rest, a servant of that freed-man of Trimalchio’s, that was best condition’d of ’em all, made such a thundring, that it rais’d the neighbourhood:  On which the watch thinking the house was on fire, broke open the gate, and making an uproar after their manner, ran in with water and hatchets:  When finding so fair an opportunity, we gave Agamemnon the slip, and scamper’d off, as if it had been a real fire.

PART TWO

Not a star appear’d to direct us in our way, nor would the dead of the night give us hopes of meeting a stranger that could; with these, the wine we had drank, and our ignorance of the place, even in the day time, conspir’d to mis-direct us.  When we had wander’d almost an hour, with our feet all bloody, over sharp pebbles and broken hills of gravel, Gito’s diligence at last deliver’d us:  for the day before, fearing we might be at a loss, tho’ we had the sun to our help, he had providently mark’d every post and pillar with a chalk, the greatest darkness was not able to obscure, by whose shineing whiteness we found our way.  But we had as many fears after we got to an inn; for the hostess, having drank a little too long with her guests, had so intirely lost her senses, a burning could not have made her feel; that perhaps, we had been forc’d to have taken up our lodging in the street, if a letter-carrier that belong’d to Trimalchio, with ten carriages of his master’s revenue, had not come in the mean time; who without much ado beat down the door, and let us in at the same gap.

After we enter’d the bed-chamber, having plentifully feasted; prest by impatient nature, I took my Gito aside; and wrapt in pleasures, spent the night.

    Who can the charms of that blest night declare,
    How soft ye gods! our warm embraces were? 
    We hugg’d, we cling’d, and thro’ each other’s lips,
    Our souls, like meeting streams, together mixt;
    Farewell the world, and all its pageantry! 
    When I, a mortal! so begin to dye.