cheats—all of you. Senator a rogue, Quaestor a rogue, Consul a rogue, Pontifex Maximus a rogue—all rogues of you. (The slaves drive him out.)
(Gaius hides the girl in an adjoining chamber. Metellus promptly arrives.)
Metellus.—Good cheer to you, Gaius Valerius. Pray forgiveness of the muses for me, because I tear you so rudely from their sweet embrace.
Catullus.— How do you fare, O Consul? Alas, both the muses and my friends have forgotten me.
Metellus.—Your blame probably in both cases.
Catullus.—Hardly—consul—but permit me to offer you a seat in my house. (Points to a seat.)
Metellus (seating himself).—You are forgetting all your friends. How long is it since you were with us? Did some one offend you? Perhaps Cicero is in your way? Did his wit hurt you?
Catullus.—Cicero’s wit cannot offend me—he is so much older and he saved the country.
Metellus.—He did not save it alone—others had a goodly share in it, though they do not brag about it. Was it young Cæsar, perhaps? He is so free with his tongue—but, then, you know when we drink we loosen up a bit. Ha! Gaius?
Catullus.—Neither did Cæsar offend me. They whose minds are equal to mine, I respect, and the others I regard not.
Metellus.—Well, was it Gellius?
Catullus (to himself).—That scoundrel. (Loudly.) Let us forget it, consul. We cannot change the world.
Metellus.—Then it could have only been Clodia. I always tell her to be careful of her sayings, lest she offend the best of my friends. How unfortunate! How stupid!
Catullus.—Be not vexed, consul. How long I have absented myself from your house, I know not—but I know that the old order still prevails there. Sometimes a blossom falls away from the bough, but the tree blooms as ever—somewhere in the forest, a bird grows silent forever, but the forest resounds
