To thy question--I will make the throw and hold it against mischance.

Thus--" He turned the box upon the table and held it firmly over the dice.
And Drusus asked, "Did you ever see one Quintus Arrius ?" "The duumvir ?" "No--his son ?" "I knew not he had a son." "Well, it is nothing," Drusus added, indifferently; "only, my Messala, Pollux was not more like Castor than Arrius is like thee." The remark had the effect of a signal: twenty voices took it up.
"True, true! His eyes--his face," they cried.
"What!" answered one, disgusted.

"Messala is a Roman; Arrius is a Jew." "Thou sayest right," a third exclaimed.

"He is a Jew, or Momus lent his mother the wrong mask." There was promise of a dispute; seeing which, Messala interposed.
"The wine is not come, my Drusus; and, as thou seest, I have the freckled Pythias as they were dogs in leash.

As to Arrius, I will accept thy opinion of him, so thou tell me more about him." "Well, be he Jew or Roman--and, by the great god Pan, I say it not in disrespect of thy feelings, my Messala!--this Arrius is handsome and brave and shrewd.