"I will thank you if you will not quote Cicero to me," replied the
elder man, a little tartly. "He will soon be back from Cilicia, and
will be prodding and wearying us in the Senate quite enough, with his
rhetoric and sophistries. But I must be more precise. I have found out
how much you owe Phormio. I thought your dead uncle had left you a
moderately large estate for a young man. Where has it gone to? Don't
try to conceal it! It's been eaten up and drunk up--spent away for
unguents, washed away in your baths, the fish-dealer and the caterer
have made way with it, yes, and butchers and cooks, and greengrocers
and perfume sellers, and poulterers--not to mention people more
scandalous--have made off with it."

Lucius stretched himself out on the divan, caught at a thick, richly
embroidered pillow, tossed it over his head on to the floor, yawned,
raised himself again upright, and said drawlingly:--

"Y-e-s, it's as you say. I find I spend every sesterce I have, and all
I can borrow. But so long as Phormio is accommodating, I don't trouble
myself very much about the debts."

"Lucius," said Domitius, sternly, "you are a graceless spendthrift. Of
course you must have the sport which all young blood needs. But your
extravagance goes beyond all bounds. I call myself a rich man, but to
leave you half my fortune, dividing with your older brother Cnæus, who
is a far steadier and saner man than you, would be to assure myself
that Greek parasites and low women would riot through that part of my
estate in a twelvemonth. You must reform, Lucius; you must reform."

This was getting extremely disagreeable in spite of his expectations,