Wherefore I have no need of your DEnomaus,though your quotation of Accius's verses was very much on the spot.But what is this jealousy,or what have I now of which anyone can be jealous?But suppose the worst.I find that the philosophers,who alone in my view grasp the true nature of virtue,hold that the wise man does not pledge himself against anything except doing wrong;and of this I consider myself clear in two ways,first in that my veiws were most absolutely correct;and second because,when Ifound that we had not sufficient material force to maintain them,Iwas against a trial of strength with the stronger party.Therefore,so far as the duty of a good citizen is concerned,I am certainly not open to reproach.What remains is that I should not say or do anything foolish or rash against the men in power:that too,I think,is the part of the wise man.As to the rest--what this or that man may say that I said,or the light in which he views it,or the amount of good faith with which those who continually seek me out and pay me attention may be acting--for these things I cannot be responsible.The result is that I console myself with the consciousness of my uprightness in the past and my moderation in the present,and apply that simile of Accius's not to jealousy,but to fortune,which I hold--as being inconstant and frail--ought to be beaten back by a strong and manly soul,as a wave is by a rock.
For,considering that Greek history is full of examples of how the wisest men endured tyrannies either at Athens or Syracuse,when,though their countries were enslaved,they themselves in a certain sense remained free--am I to believe that I cannot so maintain my position as not to hurt anyone's feelings and yet not blast my own character?
I now come to your jests,since as an afterpiece to Accius's DEnomaus,you have brought on the stage,not,as was his wont,an Atellan play,but,according to the present fashion,a mime.What's all this about a pilot-fish,a denarius,and a dish of salt fish and cheese?In my old easy-going days I put up with that sort of thing:
but times are changed.Hirthms and Dolabella are my pupils in rhetoric,but my masters in the art of dining.For I think you must have heard,if you really get all news,that their practice is to declaim at my house,and mine to dine at theirs.Now it is no use your ****** an affidavit of insolvency to me:for when you had some property,petty profits used to keep you a little too close to business;but as things are now,seeing that you are losing money so cheerfully,all you have to do,when entertaining me,is to regard yourself as accepting a "composition";and even that loss is less annoying when it comes from a friend than from a debtor.Yet,after all,I don't require dinners superfluous in quantity:only let what there is be first-rate in quality and recherche.I remember you used to tell me stories of Phamea's dinner.Let yours be earlier,but in other respects like that.But if you persist in bringing me back to a dinner like your mother's,I should put up with that also.For Ishould like to see the man who had the face to put on the table for me what you describe,or even a polypus--looking as red as Iupiter Miniatus.Believe me,you won't dare.Before I arrive the fame of my new magnificence will reach you:and you will be awestruck at it.Yet it is no use building any hope on your hors d'aeuvre.I have quite abolished that:for in old times I found my appetite spoilt by your olives and Lucanian sausages.But why all this talk?Let me only get to you.By all means--for I wish to wipe away all fear from your heart--go back to your old cheese-and-sardine dish.The only expense I shall cause you will be that you will have to have the bath heated.All the rest according to my regular habits.What Ihave just been saying was all a joke.
As to Selicius's villa,you have managed the business carefully and written most wittily.So I think I won't buy.For there is enough salt and not enough savour.
