Satyricon (1969) Movie Script

Listen, the earth could not bury me.
The sea could not smother me, rage
and storm though she might, the whore.
l am Encolpio. l am penniless.
l am banished my home.
l am fugitive from justice,
my hands stained with blood.
l am alone, abandoned, utterly wretched.
And who is it condemned me
to this solitude?
A shit of a man, marked by every vice.
A turd of a person, should be banished
by his own admission - Ascilto!
He seeks to liberate himself
through his wantonness -
you may use him any way you like.
He hires himself out
as a woman does, that bastard!
And as for that tart Gitone!
That one. He sits down to piss
like a woman does, him!
That one wears a skirt,
like he was not born a man.
A boy who played the whore in prison.
Down with his coat
and face to the wall for every bull.
What shame. What shame!
But worse still, he is a faithless
wretch after all l've done for him.
He's capable of such infamy.
The pair of them laugh at me.
l'm not at all well in my soul.
l loved you, Gitone. l love you still
and will not share you with Ascilto.
You are my self, my soul.
Listen, you are the sun. Listen,
you are the sea sweeps drunken over me.
You are divinest of divine and wrenched
from me cruel by Ascilto, who is a shit.
l must find you, no matter what,
or l'm not a man.
l shall find you! l shall!
Encolpio is after my hide.
Oh, he is vindictive.
l made away with his little friend
and he doesn't like it,
though he deserves all he gets -
the assassin, the night prowler!
Like a bird of prey, he strikes.
Encolpio, the thief,
grabbing at all that glitters.
While he slept, l dragged Gitone
from under him and slid into him myself.
Such is friendship - very accommodating.
Sweet and sullen.
At first, the boy would not
have me pick his flower.
Maybe he was sleepy.
But l drew my other sword
and showed it, saying:
''See, Lucrezia, here comes
your trusted Tarquin!''
A famous actor has him now,
offered and sold to him.
l sold all for a handful of coin,
which is why l shall never be loved.
Wandering later in the city,
a good family man found me.
Brought me to the baths,
shyly held me by the hand -
there in that niche -
and ''Come'' insisted. So l came!
And here comes Encolpio, livid,
come to search me out and put his case.
l shall have to fight, or run.
Me? ls it me you look for, Encolpio?
Come here!
- (laughs)
- Where is Gitone?
Where's Gitone?
You're a perfect asshole.
Sold, love, sold.
l sold him to Vernacchio, the actor.
l'm sorry, love.
Ah... (laughs)
(farts rhythmically)
Plaudite, plaudite, plaudite.
(woman chuckles)
(dog barking)
(actors speak Vulgar Latin)
(man sobs)
(cries out)
And thus is punished
my right arm which has failed me.
(crows like a cockerel)
- (thud)
- Aaagh!
(Vulgar Latin)
(man) Bene actum.
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
- Hail the Caesar!
- Hail the Caesar!
Hail the Caesar! Hail the Caesar!
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
How fortunate are we,
each day to see new miracles
from our divine Caesar.
Caesar, the master of all!
Eros, with his quiver of lust,
descend to earth!
Vernacchio, you will hold your peace.
That boy belongs to me.
Here is a patron, an important personage!
That young man is mine.
You do well to give him back at once.
So, a senator. So, a nobleman.
Step up, Your Grace.
Vernacchio's house is at your command.
Right! First, l want to present my family.
And my slaves.
- And the dog! (laughs)
- (barks)
Gitone, get down at once!
Oh, my Lord. He's slender, plump,
and he only cost me 30 denarii!
A suckling pig so plump
would cost more today.
See here, Vernacchio.
Such a fine actor, famous.
Having seen you perform,
l know how famous you are.
But l repeat, the pretty rascal's mine.
That crazy bastard cheated you. He had
no authority in selling what is mine.
The law will not uphold it.
Ascilto cheated you and me.
Gitone will come with me!
- You....
- l will have the rascal... for 40 sesterces.
He's so pretty... 45.
Perhaps 60 will be enough for him, eh?
Signori, a grave question l pose.
l ask you, citizens, who will sell his wife?
He is my wife.
He keeps my bedclothes warm.
He is adept in the great art of theatrics.
He will make you a perfect woman.
Helen with Menelaus,
lovely Penelope and Cornelia.
- Such treasure is priceless.
- Vernacchio...
l'll return the sum you paid.
That's perfectly fair.
Gitone then comes with me.
No. Never!
Vernacchio! You go too far.
You are become intolerable.
You have been punished once for joking
about Caesar. Perhaps you want more.
Shall l take away your theatre?
The young man is to have his little slave
or you shall have your theatre
burned about your ears.
- No, may l say that Vernacchio...
- Too far, Vernacchio.
You trespass upon our patience.
Please! For pity, do not destroy
my theatre, l beg you.
Vernacchio submits. Vernacchio's
obedient. Caesar knows that.
Look who's there.
Calpurnia! Do you know where we live?
You live here.
You know you live here, sweetheart.
There. That's him.
Come on. Very lovely little girlies.
Very, very, very, very....
Come closer. Come here.
Your choice of day is propitious.
You want to know if your wife is fertile?
This colour is brown-red,
thus showing
that children will flow from her.
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
Vene. Vene/
Stop. You with the blue eyes,
haven't you heard of me?
You're well known to be famous!
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
(man laughs)
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
(woman speaks Vulgar Latin)
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
(woman coughs)
(voices echoing)
(grunt in unison)
(voices crescendo)
- (whiplash)
- Ohhhh!
Oh, my dear friend and brother.
What do you do?
Why, share a single tent for two, hm?
Seriously, Ascilto.
Our friendship can no longer be the same.
So let's divide what little we have
in common. lt's not absolute poverty.
You have ways of earning money.
You're still studying. So am l. But we've
become known here for our scandal...
Why do you behave so scandalously?
Me, because l'm starving l work.
Nobody's trying to stop you from working.
Certainly not me, anyway.
Come on, then. All right, divide it up.
Question: which is mine?
The mirror. That's mine.
That's mine!
And the boy, Encolpio.
Shall we split him too?
- Don't joke.
- Let's let him decide.
- With you.
- (Ascilto laughs)
No! No!
- (woman whimpers)
- Garizio.
Ganymede... Narcissus.
And there's Apollo,who turned
a young man's shadow into a flower.
lt is sickening
how all the tales are of love,
of unions sensual, unrivalled sick.
l have taken into my heart a cruel love.
You see before you a poet.
You do not believe it,
l am dressed so maggoty?
Precisely the point.
Passionate pursuit of art
has never meant riches.
Never. A comforting thought,
how poverty is sister to genius.
l am very poor
and my name, it is Eumolpo.
l show you masterpieces
which could not be painted today.
They don't have the energy today.
The whole of civilisation, shagged out.
And what is the reason for
this sad fact of dilapidation?
A brabble stammer of money. Greed.
Time's flown. ldeals such as virtue
pure and simple flourished, and art left.
That fellow Eudosso grew old
in the mountains, watching the stars.
Lysippus, all his life,
drew a single model and died famished.
ln our case, wine and women
have put such masterpieces
completely out of our cognisance!
What has happened to dialectical
discussion? And what of astronomy?
We don't know of it
for all the copulation we do, you see.
You are not to wonder that
the art of painting is dead, young man.
We all of us see more beauty
in a bag of gold - l do -
than all the work of Apelles or Phidias.
Those Greeks! Too much!
l'm as bad, you see. l caught Trimalcione,
who's rich out of his ears.
You've never seen such riches.
He grows lemons, pepper, wool.
Suppose you took a fancy to a glass
of hen's milk. He'd give you a gallon.
And he's dirt, no better!
Come up from nothing.
No breeding whatever! And the agony
of it is, he thinks he's a poet!
Puerile verses.
No trace of soul, grace, poetry.
And what does the bastard call me?
''Colleague''. ''Fellow poet''.
''Soul of mine''. Cheek!
Still, always sit at his table
and drink his best wine. His invitation...
You only escape torture
because you're a citizen of Rome!
But that leaves my slaves free
to cudgel you!
Bollocks for starters! Bollocks, you cyst.
Your back should be whipped
until it's broken!
lt was broken by that ruffian your son!
- l'll prison you in the galleries!
- Pendulous fart!
Hey, never mind.
Even Venus was cross-eyed.
(girls titter)
(bell tolls)
(man shouts)
Eumolpo, it's so very good
of you to turn up.
Because you're a friend, your presence
is always commodious. You're like me.
- Too much honour.
- Bursting with genius.
Between us poets, there's real love.
(band plays)
(proposes a toast)
Friends, l beg of you,
sample my wine. Do it honour.
lt costs me nothing.
Fish have to swim. Cows graze all day.
l merely cook 'em up, and sell them.
All comes from me own property,
wherever that is.
Taranto and Terracina.
My dream is owning the whole of Sicily,
so l might perambulate
or equitate or marinate by sea
all the way to Africa
and never once leave my own estates.
Similar to the questing Ulysses,
l should level.
You catch the comparison?
A little culture at table
never does no harm.
Here is the very first beard
that l ever grew.
l was fully grown at 1 4!
And these are my household gods,
protect all our property.
Good for fortune, for business, for profit.
Praise them, thank you very much.
- Who the hell are you?
- Work in the kitchen.
- Were you born here or did l buy you?
- Not the one or the other.
l was left to you in a testament of Pansa.
Right, then. You cook sublime and big
or l shall have you cooking slops
with the other swine minders.
Heard the one about
the rich man and the poor man...
- What is a poor man?
- (laughter)
Bravo. Quite a good one.
l'm going off to be sick.
How time do fly. Day slips and
night's on you before you're ready.
The only way is to run out
of bed straight to dinner.
So cold. Not warm. Chilly.
Not even warm in the bath, is it?
Men are less than flies, much less.
They have a certain resistance, flies.
No doubt we're bubbles is all.
Here today, gone tomorrow. Bit of this,
bit of that, as the peasant said to the pig.
This man could turn lead to gold.
Hair black as a crow.
Over 70 years old, he was, and still at it.
Not least in peril of rape
was the house dog.
Are you telling me that's cooked?
How dare you present it!
lt's not even gutted. How dare you!
The cook! At once!
You cooked this pig? Guts and all?
- Have pity, my saviour.
- Lash him!
l'm sorry. l did wrong. Have pity!
All right, then, you pitiful pisspots.
Disembowel it - here, now.
Marvel upon marvel!
Look what tumbles forth.
Thrushes, stuffed hens,
eggs, livers of birds,
rope on rope of sausage,
tender plucked pigeons,
snails, liver wrapped in fat,
ham and lungs.
Oh, Trimalcione, your name will live!
What are you laughing at?
Don't you laugh at my master.
So you're richer, eh?
You give better dinners, my Lord?
You piss-quick, malodorous vagabond!
You stink.
All right, then. Son of the emperor?
We've all seen you raping the goat.
- l laugh because l laugh.
- Hold your pisser! How it stinks! Foul.
Smelly. Ugh!
l bought my own freedom.
You, have you done as much?
l feed 20 bodies and a dog.
My wife - bought her freedom.
So keep your hands off her tits, you fart!
- Try not to inflame him.
- You are merely a fart on the water.
Better close your trap, Hermerote.
Patience, patience. The rascal is young.
He's only crowing.
When you were young, you crowed too.
Give us some Homer, then. Commence.
(speaks Ancient Greek)
At table, my pleasure is Greek.
Eumolpo, brother poet,
have you followed the story?
Might l convolute a little on it for you?
lt seems Diomedes...
Lo and behold, our master's mosaic!
(Eumolpo speaks Latin)
Eumolpo, sit down before you topple.
Cudding nausea!
Race of slaves! Filth!
When did you pay for
a 20th of your freedom?
Suckers of chancres,
lickers of lies, shit-eating mange!
Eumolpo, console yourself in the fact
we poets have a difficult time of it.
Hearken to this perspication:
''Everything works out by chance,
Destiny so trips the dance.
Fortune never spares a glance.
Better the cup to circumstance.''
And these verses are mine.
Horace! Heigh-ho!
A beautiful new Horace!
Dance, then!
Oh, you misery. Go on!
On 26th July, the following slaves were
born to Trimalcione on his Cumae estate:
male 30, female 40.
Same day saw crucified the slave Eusavio
for bestial insults against our master.
Calves born: 26.
Same day, some set fire
to the Pompeiian orchards of Trimalcione.
Come again.
When did l buy orchards in Pompeii?
Wine! Actually, hot water.
Sorry we're late.
We were kept at a banquet -
funeral in the house of Scissa, for a slave.
He poured wine over her bones.
They had everything but you, Trimalcione.
Blood sausage, cake with Spanish honey
dripping, a snail to each person.
And main course -
a bear with eggs in pastry cases.
She so golloped it down, my wife, she
spewed it all up again out of her stomach.
She said ''lf bears eat people,
people can eat bears, then!''
Hey, Scinti, Fortunata,
what are you up to?
l'll bang your heads together.
l'll be richer and fatter if l don't
have your tits off when we get home!
How's that sound, fortune teller?
The sound is limpid.
That presages developments.
Are you expecting a visitor?
Try again.
That's nice. l am very happy for you.
Fanciful dear boy, regular to me.
Very rompish.
Come here. Sit on my knee.
Come and sit by your old uncle.
(Trimalcione recites rhyme)
(Vulgar Latin)
Leave me alone! We all know you were
born in the market. l transformed you...
Got any more to say?
Architect, take the statue
of this harpy off my monuments!
- Don't shout at me.
- You miserable old fungus!
So vicious, so brutish. Ugh!
Old and ugly, you are.
Fetched from a market
to a house fit for an empress.
Look at you! Gobbling like a turkey.
l'll make you suffer.
l'll make you eat your turds.
l love this ragamuffin because he's clever,
not because he's beautiful.
He can divide by ten, read a book,
and has bought a chair for himself.
What, still complaining, fatty?
Remember that this luxury
you enjoy is due to me.
l submitted to my master's pleasure.
For 1 4 years he used me for his passion.
Whatever l do, the master commands.
But l helped the mistress to joy also.
l became joint heir with the emperor
and built five ships,
loaded them with pigs, perfume and
slaves, and founded a fortune, didn't l?
All that l touched grew and grew.
Once l was a cockroach,
now l'm a king. Such is life.
You, steward, prepare for me
my panoply of death and unguent.
Put a sample of wine before me,
such as will be used to wash me bones.
Life passes like a shadow.
Sooner or later, death comes to us all.
Comes to me mind some poetry.
Hearken now.
''The company here represents a mime.
One actor plays a father, one actor
plays a son, a third plays rich old age.
But at the comedy's finish, consider
the false faces returning to reality.''
- How's that for poetry, eh, poet?
- So l am to tell the truth?
- Those verses you robbed from Lucrezio.
- What did you say, vagabond?
''Consider the false faces
returning to reality.''
That's Lucrezio! That's Lucrezio!
Bastard! How dare you
question my verses!
lt is l's the poet, not you!
- You don't scribble verses...
- Push him into the oven.
Question my talent? lnto the fire!
l fed you, nourished you in this house.
l'm the poet!
Bang him into the furnace. lngrate!
You dare...
Pass him off and spit him! Away with him.
A serpent at me breast.
Never see him again!
(Eumolpo) You can't treat
a philosopher so! l'm an artist!
l tell you, solely queens and emperors
have such a monument funereal as mine.
Abinna is making it a work of art.
Oh, what a tomb.
Covered in marble and gold.
On the front, over 1 20 foot high,
frescoes of the life of Trimalcione.
We see his ships in full sail,
plus the statue of his favourite dog.
And what about his epitaph?
''Here lies Gaius Pompeius Trimalcione.''
''Philanthropist, benefactor.
He was pious to a fault.''
''Very brave, self-made.''
''Left 30 million sesterces.''
''Never asked much of philosophy
and the same to you.''
Fate has it you are invited
to my beatific funeral,
and must eat, drink
and think nice things of me.
Chant some songs,
play beautiful music very soft.
Adieu, adieu. Fare you well.
Now mourn for me. l am dead.
Mourn for Gaius Pompeius Trimalcione.
Mourn for Trimalcione.
Oh, such a great man! (sobs)
Oh, a person much loved indeed.
Oh, why could l not die with him?
l want to give you a present.
Here, take this bracelet.
Solid gold. Here, take it.
And me, eh? Me? What about me?
What about your earrings?
Toss 'em out.
Toss 'em all out, the greedy swine.
And get my bracelet back from that black.
Not a soul may tell us, for none come
back ready to talk of the mortuary.
We will never know what is death.
We all know what is life, don't we, then?
The story of the Matron of Ephesus,
you all know.
lt starts ''There was this lovely
young widow, beautiful and virtuous.''
She'd just become a widow.
You see her weeping, faithful to the end.
She will not leave the tomb.
What love she has, what grief.
She do/ Night and day she do/
Five days without
is a long time without within.
She is left, starving herself to death.
Outside, nearby, is this thief
hanging up, swinging.
The corpse must not be took off and
to see so is a beautiful young soldier.
(woman weeps)
See, you are starving to death.
How can you serve love by death?
You must drink something.
You must drink. Take it.
You deserve life.
God-given joys of life, as long as possible.
Put the question to the corpse here.
He does not need convincing.
Please drink a little.
The hanged man has been cut down!
While l was here in the tomb, the robbers'
parents must have carried his body away.
l shall certainly be punished
with death myself. A horrible death!
But why do l tarry?
l prefer death at my own hands.
No! No, my dear.
To lose two men in my life,
one after the other, would be too much.
Better to hang up a dead husband
than lose a living lover.
''Better to hang up a dead husband
than lose a living lover.''
Poets may die, Encolpio.
But what import if poetry remains?
Friend, my friend.
Companion of my dying moments.
You will say
''l cocked Eumolpo the poet.''
You will say ''Ah, yes...''
Yes, dear.
Should l have riches of Trimalcione,
l'd leave you a pond, a navy,
ships with sailor boys.
But all l can leave you
is what l have enjoyed myself, which is...
- Which is?
- Which is... l leave you poetry.
l leave the seasons, most bright-jewelled
spring and yellow summer.
l leave the wind in change,
the sun in bloom, the sea, kind sea-wash.
l leave the earth, kinder again.
The mountains,
their torrents of water, clear tears,
and the great shapely clouds
pass so solemn in the sky.
Light as puff.
See them, yours, dear, as remembrances
of our hands that touched our lips.
l leave you arbours of trees,
birds and animals.
Light love, sad love and the stars,
Encolpio, l leave you.
Noises, song, rumour.
The voices of man,
the pealing of musical bells,
l leave you.
Bittersweet. My eyes' drug.
Gitone, l love you still.
Speak to me, dream love.
You left me for another.
Do l deserve...
(impatient shouting)
Terror. We are fallen
into the hands of Lichas of Taranto,
a thrice-dotted villain who combs
the sea for precious objects, people.
People like us who are beautiful
and will give pleasure to Caesar.
Gitone is beautiful. My love is beautiful.
We are doomed to be the playthings of the
solitary, diseased Caesar on his island.
Wretched fate has me by the balls again,
swinging on them.
So near my love, and yet so far, my love.
Please to remove your tunic
so l try it on my shoulders.
- Give me!
- No!
- Hail to Caesar!
- (all) Hail to Caesar!
Ein gutes Fressen fr die Haie.
He's much too beautiful.
Don't bruise this one.
Come, come closer.
Legs as smooth as velvet.
A body so bland, so soft.
Ohh! Oh, you're pretty.
..einen hbschen neuen Herrn
und dann wird die Hochzeit sein
mit viel Liebe
und die schne Nacht und so.
(shouts order)
All hail to the bride!
(Ascilto laughs)
All this treasure is bound for Caesar,
but the sweetest is mine.
The colour is sanguine,
is vital and gives us joy.
The blood shows
that the gods bless this union.
Lichas, take the hand of your husband.
Know this union is for ever
and cannot be sundered.
You, spouse,
do vow faithful love as your wife did.
All your boys must be obediently forgot.
A married man takes no liberty.
You do now dedicate yourself
and your energy to your bride.
Strive for harmony, strive for satisfaction.
Strive for complete happiness,
for weddings consummate at sea
are favoured by Venus with issue.
Now say the ritual words.
(recites rite)
(all chant) Felicitas/
(chanting) Felicitas/
Felicitas/ Felicitas/
(man sings)
And the god appeared to him
with these words:
''Should you desire an equal fate,
you may live half your life
in the bowels of the earth,
the other half
high in a golden dwelling of the sky.''
So to Caesar his treasure chest sails.
But my married bliss was not to be.
Approaching the island of Taunia
where young Caesar loved
to live and watched for us,
one morning, out the blue,
came armed ships and a new Caesar.
(shouts order)
- The tyrant is dead.
- (all chant)
This little lamb is coming with us.
You trespass on my ship!
The ship is no longer yours, Lichas.
Caesar is murdered.
The new Caesar arrives.
The boy emperor's torn open like a fruit,
squashed in the market.
Treacherous tart!
Homines et mulieres, ego libero vos.
l declare that this man,
this young man
and this man have their freedom.
And you,
and the child,
and all you slaves are set free.
Thank you, master. Thank you.
Calidia, Tiria, go now.
Tomorrow the decree
of confiscation will arrive,
but we shall not be here.
La terra/ La terra/ La terra mia/
Oh, sacred earth. Earth of home.
May the gods protect your journey.
Farewell, master.
They say the place we're going to
is even more beautiful than this,
but l won't believe it unless you say so.
ls it more beautiful?
Come and say goodbye.
Do you remember
the beautiful woods that you liked?
- The road goes past them.
- Come on.
- Tomorrow?
- Surely.
You're pale.
Give me some wine,
and drink some with me.
Don't do the same, please.
l know you would, but please.
The seasons are not as they once were.
Once, in Africa, a lion entered my tent,
sniffed around me like a gentle dog,
and went out again.
The children would not eat anything
before the journey.
Then they took a little fruit.
The road they travel is safe.
Before evening,
they will be safely arrived.
Animula vagula blandula
hospes comesque corporis.
The ancestors of the owners.
My word. What a lot of sentries.
(shouts orders)
(woman moans)
(woman sobs)
Do you hear?
Down there in the slaves' quarters.
Yes. Who's that crying?
Who's there?
(man laughs)
(woman jabbers)
Yes, of course you love me.
- (Ascilto laughs)
- (woman screams)
(woman laughs)
She's escaped.
(woman laughs)
Ascilto! What does the poet say?
''Each moment presented may be
your last, so fill it up until you vomit'',
or something such.
(woman jabbers)
l was famished, like a hungry horse.
And you?
(man speaks Vulgar Latin)
Mechim, he say,
dear mistress of ours...
much, very unhappy.
One man into her after another, fuck-fuck.
Like a wolf for fuck-fuck.
Her husband despair. What to do?
She need men for her itching -
always new one.
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
Mechim, he say you good
for our mistress.
Go make her happy!
Her husband pay you, very generous.
(woman moans)
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
(moaning reaches crescendo)
(cries out)
My lady.
My beautiful mistress.
Tomorrow we take mistress to the oracle.
You see Hermaphrodite, a demigod.
He is bambina, male and female.
So full of magic.
Hermaphrodite cure everything,
even our mistress of her plague.
He sleep up there in temple over that hill.
Once upon a time, he punished city
which had done him bad.
Transformed them,
turned them to chicken.
Cocococo! Cocococo! Coco.
He will perhaps cure our mistress.
You go too.
Husband, he pay you well. Go!
Creature of Aphrodite and Hermes.
l beg you, sacred man.
He's the only son l have.
Don't let him die. So pathetic a little thing.
He's not fit to be carried to see you.
But you can save him. Please.
Say you will.
Your child is saved. Go in peace.
He feeds delicate,
the son of Mercury and Venus.
Look what he gets -
chickens, lambs, pigs.
Fortune all for him. Not just.
Not right to see him gobble all that.
Hermes, Hermes, Hermes.
Pay homage to the hero
of the battle of Quadragesima.
(laughs maniacally)
Most favoured by the gods.
Thank you.
Now we have him. They're sleeping.
Get the old man.
(man groans)
We'll go down there.
That's the way through.
He's not well.
His mouth's open, and it's all dry.
Give him some water.
Better give him some food, too.
Ascilto, the last of the water.
Come on. Move!
The sun is killing him. The sun.
There's no water. No more. Not a drop.
Demigod. What's wrong, demigod?
(wheezing stops)
(beast howls)
Dead. He's dead.
You've let him die. You've let him die!
l'll murder you!
Ascilto! Ascilto!
Flames, fight with flames.
ls yours.
Theseus fight with Minotaur.
Ariadne waiting you. Amore, amore.
(wind howls)
(frenetic chanting)
Who are you? Tell me who you are!
Who are you?
Come out, Minotaur! l want to fight you!
Tell me who you are.
Why don't you fight a gladiator, not me?
l'm a student.
No! Don't be angry at me! Spare me!
Please, it's out of the question
for me to fight. l'm sorry.
l am not a Theseus worthy.
Dear Minotaur, l will love you
if you let me off with my life.
Have pity upon Encolpio!
You know me, don't you?
lt's Encolpio, begging for mercy.
Proconsul, do you hear?
Don't think this boy's a coward.
He's sensible and educated.
l shall not kill him.
l wait for you to pronounce sentence.
But l say that l have found
a new friend this day.
You say sensitive, a poet,
an educated lad.
Certainly he's demonstrated
scant ability in fighting.
The pen is his weapon, you see. Pen-is.
But you, stranger, never be offended.
Do not bridle at honest laughter.
At festivities
at the shrine of the god Humour,
you are part of devotion to laughter.
ls it not a fact strangers suffer most?
A good joke, don't you agree?
No more joking. That beautiful woman
is real. You are to gird yourself, Encolpio.
Go! Comfort your Ariadne.
She already submits to you.
Go, Encolpio. Make her happy.
Mangy fucker. Soft as a maggot.
No, wait. l'll manage in a minute.
lt'll be all right.
Screw yourself, shithouse.
Stew in your own filth!
Bad luck to us all, you are.
Let me try again, please!
Leave me alone. Get off!
(women chant)
(speaks Vulgar Latin)
You filth!
Wait! lt was the sun! Treacherous sun!
Ascilto. l've lost my sword.
Look, Encolpio. Here's a friend of yours.
Wallowing lust up my nose.
Limbs of beautiful women drown me.
All night, succulent and prolonged.
Finish at canter or gallop.
A melody hot innovates,
dulls the course of the mind.
Sodden in riches, you see, boy.
Vices grip me.
This tutti-frutti felicity. lt has blasted me.
Lo and behold, the disgusting result.
Too much. And even you
are down to your last penny.
You're pretty paralysed.
l saw you. You looked like
a soaked mouse stranded on a cow.
Ridiculous! A mouse on a cow!
No more drinking now.
What was it occurred?
Priapus has failed you, it's very clear.
He's often like that.
Today it's a log. Tomorrow it's pasta.
But you shall be cured.
Your own Eumolpo will do it.
l'm a man of power now, you see.
Eros looks after me.
By force of intrigue and traffic,
l have become master of the city.
What do you want, boy? Fornication?
Can't manage it, can you?
Still, you must sample
the garden of delights.
Rotten! Quite delicious.
What positions are on today?
They ought to invent some more.
More permutation and combination.
Credit me with having proved them all,
and such quality and such dimension.
See, put on record all the love l've done.
Never grasped you, for example.
Can you remember all those
you've tongued and loved?
Never remember all the kissing, see?
A friend of mine here, arrested erection.
Got a set which won't function.
Gone crooked like a curled finger.
Once his pride, too.
You go to sleep, now. Yes, that's better.
Why dream the other night?
No good for you.
Promise you'll go to sleep?
(women chant)
Here, darling. Climb on this. Encolpio,
you couldn't come round a corner.
Try me!
l want to be cured, l want to get well!
Wish. Come in.
(woman speaks)
Encolpio. l'll wait for you.
Wait for me? Where?
Tomorrow, midnight,
l have a ship sails for Africa,
with treasure beyond all dream.
You need... you need magic.
- Magic. Enotea.
- Enotea?
She is powerful good witch.
A sorceress can suck up winds.
Spew water from out rocks.
Stub out the stars.
ls old story, years since.
How, when she was beautiful
as day's beginning,
there was a wizard of terrible power,
who was cast into love for her.
l cannot live without your beauty.
Old and ugly.
Enotea found him old and ugly.
She smiled and said he was
to come to her at night.
"Come up a rope to bliss. "
But when the old magician
was halfway to bliss,
he was left a-dangle.
The magician took his revenge
just such a way.
Doused out the fires in the village.
Everyone cold.
"You give back fire, " they said.
"Cold, dark, meat raw, " they said.
"Fires out, " they said.
And he said.:
But fire indeed there is.
Search in the skirts of Enotea,
under her garments you will find it.
There it forks and flickers.
(women sing)
Where is she?
Nobody say where is Enotea.
You must seek, but they say
that beyond the great swamp...
Ascilto, are you frightened?
Me? What should l be frightened of?
Will we find her? Will she come?
She'll come. Sure she will.
Certain to come for this.
(woman chants)
Oh, mammina, can you see my disgrace?
l am culpable. l disgrace all.
l confess to treachery, to killing a man,
profaning a temple.
And now l am without fire in my loins.
Who has done this thing?
l cannot understand how this can be.
Give me my life again.
l do feel. l do feel. l feel it! l feel it!
l want it! l want it!
Encolpio, come on!
Ascilto, the gods have restored my health.
Mercury slid potent metal into my bones.
Farewell, Enotea, generous mother.
Best foot forward now.
March out and make up for time lost.
Youth withers so fast!
Run, Ascilto! Run!
Like outlaws,
we must flee the new Caesar.
Too hot the ground under our feet.
We embark with Eumolpo
to sail the length of the sea
to where the earth has edge, brother.
(echoing) Ascilto!
Your arrogance, your wild glory
is gone like the shadow of a cloud.
Fishes will have you,
beasts rend parts of you.
You who a moment since
walked strut so brave.
Dreams, dreams, dreams
for man who is mortal.
You great gods,
how far he lies from your heaven.
The ship will not sail to Africa
with its cargo of slaves.
Eumolpo is dead.
He left a strange will, gentlemen.
Listen to it.
''To all gentlemen
expecting legacies in my testament...''
''All slaves are freed.''
''You may take possession of what l've left
you if cut me up into morsel-size pieces,
and eat me in full view of all.''
''My friends, stain not
your hands or your knives,
but devour my dead flesh with the same
gusto as you sent my soul to hell.''
lt's impossible. lt's a joke.
Why do you say that?
Certain races consider it normal
for the defunct to disappear
into the mouths of the family.
ln fact, it is considered
bad form to die when ill
because it ruins the taste of the flesh.
The mere refusal of my stomach
doesn't much worry me
supposing that,
in exchange for an hour of nausea,
l'm promised money and good fat things.
lt has happened before.
The Saguntines, invested by Hannibal,
munched into human flesh
without an inheritance to salt it.
The city of Numazia
was invested by Scipio.
On capture, mothers were found
holding their half-eaten children.
Happens all the time.
l shall not be odd man out.
- Will you go with us?
- Yes.
Come on.
The wind is favourable.
Look, the clouds are breaking.
(Encolpio) We sailed away
that same night on scud of wave.
Left Eumolpo behind.
l was part of the crew.
Our anchor stone clattered
on harbour beds of unknown ports.
For the first time,
such names as Kelicia, Rectis...
And on an island spread
with sweet-scent grass,
a young Greek told me that in years...