As one of the twenty commissioners for the distribution of public land.
Quid aliud? quid? Hoc opinor. Certi sumus perisse omnia; quid enim ἀκκιζόμεθα tam diu?
Sed haec scripsi properans et mehercule timide. Posthac ad te aut, si perfidelem habebo, cui dem, scribam plane omnia, aut, si obscure scribam, tu tamen intelleges. In iis epistulis me Laelium, te Furium faciam; cetera erunt ἐν αἰνιγμοῖς. Hic Caecilium colimus et observamus diligenter. Edicta Bibuli audio ad te missa. Iis ardet dolore et ira noster Pompeius.
[Sidenote: _Scr. Romae m. Quint. a. 695_]
Anicato, ut te velle intellexeram, nullo loco defui. Numestium ex litteris tuis studiose scriptis libenter in amicitiam recepi. Caecilium, quibus rebus possum, tueor diligenter. Varro satis facit nobis. Pompeius amat nos carosque habet. “Credis?” inquies. Credo; prorsus mihi persuadet; sed, quia volgo pragmatici homines omnibus historiis, praeceptis, versibus denique cavere iubent et vetant credere, alterum facio, ut caveam, alterum, ut non credam, facere non possum. Clodius adhuc mihi denuntiat periculum. Pompeius adfirmat non esse periculum, adiurat; addit etiam se prius occisum iri ab eo quam me violatum iri. Tractatur
if it is necessary. I will send for you. Anything else? One thing, I think: I am sure the country is lost. It is no use mincing matters[86] any longer.
However I have written this in a hurry, and, I may say, in a fright too. Some time I will give you a clear account, if I find a very trusty messenger; or, if I veil my meaning, you will manage to understand it. In these letters I will call myself Laelius and you Furius: and convey the rest in riddles. Here I am cultivating Caecilius and paying him elaborate attention. I hear Bibulus’ edicts have been sent to you. Pompey is blazing with wrath and indignation at them.
I have done all I could for Anicatus, knowing you wanted me to do so, and have willingly adopted Numestius as a friend on the strength of the earnest recommendation in your letter. To Caecilius I take care to pay every suitable attention. Varro is as good as I can expect; and Pompey shows me friendship and affection. Can I believe him, you ask. I do believe him; he quite convinces me. But since men of the world are always advising one in their histories and precepts and even in their verses to beware and forbidding one to believe, I do the one and beware, but to the other—not to believe—I cannot persuade myself. Clodius is still threatening me with danger, while Pompey asserts that there is no danger. He swears it, adding even that he will not see me injured if it costs him his life. The point is under