slander him for those deeds which he would have longed to do himself.
That is why he introduced the matter of his stripping and anointing and
those ancient fables, not because there was any pertinence in them now,
but in order to obscure by external noise his opponent's consummate skill
and success. Yet this same Antony, O thou earth, and ye gods (I shall
call louder than you and invoke them with greater justice), saw that the
city was already in reality under a tyranny through the fact that all
the legions obeyed Caesar and all the people together with the senate
submitted to him to such an extent that they voted among other measures
that he should be dictator for life and use the appurtenances of a king.
Then he showed Caesar his error most convincingly and restrained him most
prudently, until the latter, abashed and afraid, would not accept either
the name of king or the diadem, which he had in mind to bestow upon
himself even against our will. Any other man would have declared that
he had been ordered to do it by his master, and putting forward the
compulsion as an excuse would have obtained pardon for it,--yes, indeed,
he would, when you think of what kind of votes we had passed at that time
and what power the soldiers had secured. Antony, however, because he was
thoroughly acquainted with Caesar's disposition and accurately aware of
all he was preparing to do, by great good judgment succeeded in turning
him aside from his course and retarding his ambitions. The proof of it
is that afterward he no longer behaved in any way like a monarch, but
mingled publicly and unprotected with us all; and that accounts most of
all for the possibility of his meeting the fate that he did.

[-18-] "This is what was done, O Cicero or Cicerulus or Ciceracius or
Ciceriscus or Graeculus[17] or whatever you like to be called, by the
uneducated, the naked, the anointed man: and none of it was done by you,
the clever, the wise, the user of much more olive oil than wine, you who
let your clothing drag about your ankles not, by Jupiter, as the dancers
do, who teach you intricacies of reasoning by their poses, but in order
to hide the ugliness of your legs. Oh no, it's not through modesty that
you do this, you who delivered that long screed about Antony's habits.
Who is there that does not see these soft clothes of yours? Who does not
scent your carefully combed gray locks? Who is there unaware that you put
away your first wife who had borne