Your letters have never raised me to such a pitch
of hope as those of others; and yet my hopes have always been less warm
than your letters. Nevertheless, since a beginning has been made in the
case, of whatever sort and from whatever motive, I will not disappoint
the sad and touching entreaties of my best and only brother, nor the
promises of Sestius and others, nor the hopes of my most afflicted wife,
nor the entreaties of my most unhappy Tulliola, as well as your own
loyal letter. Epirus will furnish me with a road to restoration or to
that other alternative mentioned above. I beg and entreat of you, Titus
Pomponius, as you see that I have been despoiled by the treachery of men
of all that most adds splendour to life, of all that can most gratify
and delight the soul, as you see that I have been betrayed and cast away
by my own advisers, as you understand that I have been forced to ruin
myself and my family--help me by your compassion, and support my brother
Quintus, who is still capable of being saved; protect Terentia and my
children. For myself, if you think it possible that you may see me at
Rome, wait for me; if not, come to see me if you can, and make over to
me just so much of your land as may be covered by my corpse. Finally,
send slaves to me with letters as soon and as often as possible.

15 September.

LXXVII (A III, 20)

TO ATTICUS (AT ROME)

THESSALONICA, 4 OCTOBER

_Cicero greets Q. Caecilius Pomponianus Atticus, son of Quintus._[347]

[Sidenote: B.C. 58, AET. 48]

That this is now the case, and that your uncle has done what he ought to
have done, I approve in the strongest manner possible: I will say I am
"glad," when circumstances shall admit of my using such a word. Ah me!
how well everything would have been going if my own spirit, my own
judgment, and the good faith of those on whom I relied had not failed
me! But I won't review these circumstances lest I increase my sorrow.
Yet I feel sure that it occurs to your mind what a life ours was, how
delightful, how dignified. To recover this, in the name of fortune,
bestow all your energies, as I know you do, and take care that I keep
the birthday of my return in your delightful house with you and my
family. For this hope and expectation, though now put before me as being
very strong, I yet wished to wait in your home in Epirus; but my letters
are such as to make me think it better not to be in the same
neighbourhood. What you say in your