th
Atticus"?

The time for hedging has passed. Shall it be against Caesar? What then
becomes of our pledges to one another? Or shall I change my political
opinions? I could not face Pompey, nor men and women--you yourself would
be the first to reproach me. You may laugh at what I am going to say.
How I wish I were even now back in my province! Though nothing could be
more disagreeable. By the way, I ought to tell you that all those
virtues which adorned the early days of my government, which your
letters praised to the skies, were very superficial. How difficult a
thing is virtue!

_To L. Papirius_ Rome, B.C. 46

I am writing at dinner at the house of Volumnius; we lay down at three
o'clock; your friends Atticus and Verrius are to my right and left. Are
you surprised that we pass the time of our bondage so gaily? What else
should I do? Tell me, student of philosophy! shall I make myself
miserable? What good would it serve, or how long would it last? But you
say, "Spend your days in reading." As a matter of fact, I do nothing
else; it's my only way to keep alive. But one cannot read all day; and
when I have put away my books I don't know any better way of spending
the evening than at dinner.

I like dining out. I like to talk without restraint, saying just what
comes to my tongue, and laughing care and sorrow from my heart. You are
no more serious yourself. I heard how you mocked a grave philosopher
when he invited questions: you said that the question that haunted your
mornings was, "Where shall I dine to-day?" He thought, poor fool, that
you were going to ask whether there was one heaven or many.

I give part of the day to reading or writing; then, not to shut myself
up from my friends, I dine with them. You need not be afraid of my
coming; you will receive a guest of more humour than appetite.

_To L. Minucius Basilus_ Rome, March, B.C. 44

My congratulations! I rejoice with you! I love you! I have your
interests at heart! I pray you love me, and let me know how you are, and
what is happening. [Written to one of Caesar's assassins; apparently,
immediately after the event.]

_To Atticus_ May, B.C. 44

I see I have been a fool to take comfort in the Ides of March. We had
indeed the courage of men, but no more wisdom than children have. The
tree was cut down, but its roots remained, and it is springing up again.
The tyrant was removed, but the tyranny is with us still. Let us
therefore return to t