"Is that Antonius ?" "Yes.

Come out.

We may as well dispose of our cold _puls_ before the moon rises, and while we can imagine it peacocks, Lucrine oysters, or what not." "If sight were the only sense!" grumbled Drusus, as he pulled himself together by a considerable effort, and staggered to his feet.
Outside the tent Antonius was waiting with a helmet half full of the delectable viand, which the two friends proceeded to share together as equally as they might in the increasing darkness.
"You are over sober to-night," said Antonius, when this scarcely elaborate meal was nearly finished.
"_Perpol!_" replied Drusus, "have I been as a rule drunken of late?
My throat hardly knows the feeling of good Falernian, it is so long since I have tasted any." "I doubt if there is so much as a draught of _posca_[176] in the army," said Antonius, yawning.

"I imagine that among our friends, the Pompeians, there is plenty, and more to spare.

_Mehercle_, I feel that we must storm their camp just to get something worth drinking.