We too will throw ourselves into the holiday whirlpool disguised, I as a satyr, and you as a young faun or something of the kind; we will drain cups, wander round the city and enjoy all that is enjoyable." "Oh!" exclaimed Antinous, joyfully clapping his hands.
"Evoe Bacche!" cried Hadrian, tossing up his cup that stood on his table.

"You are free till this evening, Mastor, and you my boy, go and talk to Pollux, the sculptor.

He shall be our guide and he will provide us with wreaths and some mad disguise.

I must see drunken men, I must laugh with the jolliest before I am Caesar again.

Make haste, my friend, or new cares will come to spoil my holiday mood.".