De Dionysio sum admiratus, qui apud me honoratior fuit quam apud Scipionem Panaetius; a quo impurissime haec nostra fortuna despecta est. Odi hominem et odero; utinam ulcisci possem! Sed illum ulciscentur mores sui.
Tu, quaeso, nunc vel maxime, quid agendum nobis sit, cogita. Populi Romani exercitus Cn. Pompeium circumsedet, fossa et vallo saeptum tenet, fuga prohibet; nos vivimus, et stat urbs ista, praetores ius dicunt, aediles ludos parant; viri boni usuras perscribunt, ego ipse sedeo! Coner illuc ire ut insanus, implorare fidem municipiorum? Boni non sequentur, leves irridebunt, rerum novarum cupidi, victores praesertim et armati, vim et manus adferent. Quid censes igitur? ecquidnam est tui consilii ad finem huius miserrimae vitae? Nunc doleo, nunc torqueor, cum cuidam aut sapiens videor, quod una non ierim, aut felix fuisse. Mihi contra. Numquam enim illius victoriae socius esse volui, calamitatis mallem fuisse. Quid ego nunc tuas litteras, quid tuam prudentiam aut benevolentiam implorem? Actum est; nulla re iam possum iuvari,
sorrow, so that now I would choose the end of Mucius.[100] But how honourable, how simple, how clearly thought out was your advice as to my land-route and my sea-route and my meeting and talk with Caesar! It was equally honourable and prudent. Your invitation, too, to Epirus, how kind and generous and brotherly it is!
[100] Q. Mucius Scaevola was murdered in 82 B.C. by the order of the younger Marius. Cf. viii, 3.
As for Dionysius, I am surprised. I held him in greater honour than Scipio held Panaetius, yet he has most foully mocked at my bad fortunes. I hate the fellow and I always shall. I wish I could pay him out. But his own character will do that.
I beseech you now give the greatest consideration to my proper course. An army of the Roman people invests Gnaeus Pompey. It holds him hedged by trench and mound and keeps him from flight. Yet we live and Rome is standing, the praetors preside in court, the aediles make preparations for the games, the conservatives are booking their profits, and I sit still! Am I to try to cross the sea like a madman, to beg the country towns to be loyal? The loyalists will not follow me, the irresponsible will deride me, the revolutionaries, especially now they are armed and victorious, will lay hands of violence upon me. What do you think then? Have you any plan to end this life of misery? Now I feel grief, now I am in agony, when somebody thinks me wise because I did not go with Pompey, or lucky perhaps. I think the opposite. For never did I wish to share a victory of his; I should have wished rather to share his defeat. Why should I entreat a letter from you now, your kindness, your good sense? It is all over. Nothing can help me
qui, ne quod optem quidem, iam habeo, nisi ut aliqua inimici misericordia liberemur.