Republic—which by its services to me, and no less by mine to it, was dearer to me than my life. And even now, though not only is reason (which ought to be more powerful than anything) consoling me, but also time which cures even fools, yet I am nevertheless grieving that the general interests are in such a state of collapse, that no hope even is left of any future improvement. Not that in the present instance the fault is his, in whose power everything is—unless by any chance that very fact is not as it should be—but some things by accident and others by my own fault also have so fallen out, that complaint on my part for the past is barred. Hope for the future I see none. Therefore I return to what I said at first: you have left all this wisely, if you did so by design; luckily, if by accident.
CCCCLXXVI (F IX, 19)
TO L. PAPIRIUS PÆTUS (AT NAPLES)
Rome (August)
What! you don't budge from your mischievous humour?
You hint that Balbus was contented with very plain fare:
your insinuation seems to be that when kings[1] are so
abstemious, much more ought mere consulars to be so. You
don't know that I fished everything out of him; for he came
straight from the city gate to my house—and I am not surprised
that he did not prefer going to his own house, but that
he didn't go to his own belle amie! However, my first three
words were "How's our Pætus?" In answer he swore that he
had never had a pleasanter visit anywhere. If you earned that
compliment by your conversation, I will bring you a pair of
ears no less discriminating: but if by your dainty fare, I beg
you not to think stutterers[2] worth more than men of eloquence.
One thing after another stops me every day. But
