Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was very anxious
He turned the box upon the table and held it firmly over the dice.
And Drusus asked, "Did you ever see one Quintus Arrius?"
"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."
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