Lucius Annaeus Seneca→Lucilius Junior|c. 64 AD|Seneca the Younger|From Southern Italy (regional)|To Sicily (regional)|AI-assisted
Each of us does as best he can, my dear Lucilius. Over there you have Etna, that most renowned mountain of Sicily—though I cannot work out why Messala called it "unique," or whether it was Valgius, for I have read it in both. Many places, after all, spew out fire, and not only the high ones, which is the more common case (no doubt because flame is carried up to the greatest height), but low-lying places too. As for us, we are content, in whatever way we can manage, with Baiae—which I left the very day after I had reached it. It is a place to be shunned for this reason: though it has certain natural endowments, luxury has marked it out as her own playground.
"What of it, then?" you ask. "Is hatred to be declared against any particular place?" Not at all. But just as one garment suits a wise and upright man better than another—he does not hate any color, yet he judges some less fitting for a man who professes plain living—so there is also a region from which the wise man, or the man striving toward wisdom, will turn away as alien to good morals. And so, when he is thinking of retreat, he will never choose Canopus—though Canopus forbids no one to be frugal—nor even Baiae: both have begun to be the lodging-houses of the vices. There luxury grants itself the freest rein; there, as if some license were owed to the place itself, it lets go all the more.
We ought to choose a place that is wholesome not only for the body but also for the character. Just as I would not want to live among torturers, so neither would I want to live among cookshops. To see drunken men staggering along the shores, the carousing of pleasure-boaters, the lakes loud with the singing of musicians, and all the other things in which luxury—as though loosed from the laws—not only sins but parades its sin in public: what need is there of this? We ought to make it our work to flee as far as possible from the incitements to vice; the mind must be hardened and dragged far away from the seductions of pleasures. A single winter quarters unstrung Hannibal, and the comforts of Campania softened that man whom snows and the Alps could not subdue: he conquered by arms, but was conquered by vices.
We too must do military service, and indeed a kind of service in which no rest is ever granted, no leave: above all the pleasures must be fought down to the finish—pleasures which, as you see, have carried off even fierce natures. If a man sets before himself how great a task he has undertaken, he will know that nothing is to be done daintily, nothing softly. What have I to do with those steaming pools? What with the sweating-rooms, into which dry vapor is shut up to drain the body dry? Let all sweat come out through hard work. If we were to do what Hannibal did—break off the course of our campaign and, abandoning the war, give our effort to coddling our bodies—everyone would rightly fault such untimely idleness, perilous even for the victor, let alone for one still winning. We are permitted less than those who followed the Punic standards: more peril remains for us if we give ground, more labor too if we hold on.
Fortune wages war against me: I am not going to do her bidding. I do not take on the yoke; rather—and this calls for greater virtue—I shake it off. The mind must not be softened: if I give in to pleasure, I must give in to pain, give in to toil, give in to poverty. Ambition too will want the same rights over me, and so will anger; among so many passions I shall be torn apart—no, ripped to pieces. Freedom is set before me; it is for this prize that I labor. You ask what freedom is? To be slave to nothing, to no necessity, to no chance events, to bring Fortune down to a level field. On the day I understand that I have more power than she, she will have no power: I will endure her, when death is in my own hand?
A man intent on such thoughts ought to choose places that are grave and hallowed; too much pleasantness makes the spirit effeminate, and without doubt a region can do something to corrupt one's vigor. Pack animals whose hoofs are toughened on rough ground put up with any road; fattened on soft, marshy pasture, their hoofs are quickly worn through. The braver soldier comes from broken, rugged country; the city-dweller and the home-bred slave are sluggish. Hands transferred from the plow to arms refuse no toil: that sleek and glossy fellow gives out at the first dust. The sterner discipline of a place strengthens the character and makes it fit for great endeavors. It was more honorable for Scipio to live in exile at Liternum than at Baiae: a fall of that kind ought not to be cushioned so softly. Even those men into whose hands the rising fortunes of the Roman people first transferred the public wealth—Gaius Marius, Gnaeus Pompey, and Caesar—did build villas in the region of Baiae, yet they set them on the highest ridges of the mountains: this seemed more soldierly, to look out from a height over lands spread far and wide below. Look at the situation they chose, the places where and the kind of buildings they raised: you will see they are not villas but camps.
Do you suppose Marcus Cato would ever have lived there, to count up the adulteresses sailing past, and so many kinds of skiffs painted in various colors, and the roses drifting all over the lake, or to listen to the nighttime catcalls of serenaders? Would he not rather have stayed within a rampart that he himself had thrown up by his own hand for a single night? Why would any man who is truly a man not prefer to have his sleep broken by the war-trumpet rather than by a concert?
But I have quarreled with Baiae long enough—never long enough with the vices. Those, I beg you, Lucilius, pursue without limit, without end; for they too have neither end nor limit. Cast away whatever tears at your heart, things which, if they could not be drawn out any other way, would have to be torn out together with the heart itself. Above all, drive out the pleasures and hold them as the most hateful of all: like the bandits whom the Egyptians call "philetai" ["lovers"], they embrace us only to strangle us. Farewell.
Every man does the best he can, my dear Lucilius! You over there have Etna, that lofty and most celebrated mountain of Sicily; (although I cannot make out why Messala,—or was it Valgius? for I have been reading in both,—has called it “unique,” inasmuch as many regions belch forth fire, not merely the lofty ones where the phenomenon is more frequent,—presumably because fire rises to the greatest possible height,—but low-lying places also.) As for myself, I do the best I can; I have had to be satisfied with Baiae; and I left it the day after I reached it; for Baiae is a place to be avoided, because, though it has certain natural advantages, luxury has claimed it for her own exclusive resort. “What then,” you say, “should any place be singled out as an object of aversion?” Not at all. But just as, to the wise and upright man, one style of clothing is more suitable than another, without his having an aversion for any particular colour, but because he thinks that some colours do not befit one who has adopted the simple life; so there are places also, which the wise man or he who is on the way toward wisdom will avoid as foreign to good morals. Therefore, if he is contemplating withdrawal from the world, he will not select Canopus (although Canopus does not keep any man from living simply), nor Baiae either; for both places have begun to be resorts of vice. At Canopus luxury pampers itself to the utmost degree; at Baiae it is even more lax, as if the place itself demanded a certain amount of licence.
We ought to select abodes which are wholesome not only for the body but also for the character. Just as I do not care to live in a place of torture, neither do I care to live in a café. To witness persons wandering drunk along the beach, the riotous revelling of sailing parties, the lakes a-din with choral song, and all the other ways in which luxury, when it is, so to speak, released from the restraints of law not merely sins, but blazons its sins abroad,—why must I witness all this? We ought to see to it that we flee to the greatest possible distance from provocations to vice. We should toughen our minds, and remove them far from the allurements of pleasure. A single winter relaxed Hannibal’s fibre; his pampering in Campania took the vigour out of that hero who had triumphed over Alpine snows. He conquered with his weapons, but was conquered by his vices. We too have a war to wage, a type of warfare in which there is allowed no rest or furlough. To be conquered, in the first place, are pleasures, which, as you see, have carried off even the sternest characters. If a man has once understood how great is the task which he has entered upon, he will see that there must be no dainty or effeminate conduct. What have I to do with those hot baths or with the sweating-room where they shut in the dry steam which is to drain your strength? Perspiration should flow only after toil.
Suppose we do what Hannibal did,—check the course of events, give up the war, and give over our bodies to be coddled. Every one would rightly blame us for our untimely sloth, a thing fraught with peril even for the victor, to say nothing of one who is only on the way to victory. And we have even less right to do this than those followers of the Carthaginian flag; for our danger is greater than theirs if we slacken, and our toil is greater than theirs even if we press ahead. Fortune is fighting against me, and I shall not carry out her commands. I refuse to submit to the yoke; nay rather, I shake off the yoke that is upon me,—an act which demands even greater courage. The soul is not to be pampered; surrendering to pleasure means also surrendering to pain, surrendering to toil, surrendering to poverty. Both ambition and anger will wish to have the same rights over me as pleasure, and I shall be torn asunder, or rather pulled to pieces, amid all these conflicting passions. I have set freedom before my eyes; and I am striving for that reward. And what is freedom, you ask? It means not being a slave to any circumstance, to any constraint, to any chance; it means compelling Fortune to enter the lists on equal terms. And on the day when I know that I have the upper hand, her power will be naught. When I have death in my own control, shall I take orders from her?
Therefore, a man occupied with such reflections should choose an austere and pure dwelling-place. The spirit is weakened by surroundings that are too pleasant, and without a doubt one’s place of residence can contribute towards impairing its vigour. Animals whose hoofs are hardened on rough ground can travel any road; but when they are fattened on soft marshy meadows their hoofs are soon worn out. The bravest soldier comes from rock-ribbed regions; but the town-bred and the home-bred are sluggish in action. The hand which turns from the plough to the sword never objects to toil; but your sleek and well-dressed dandy quails at the first cloud of dust. Being trained in a rugged country strengthens the character and fits it for great undertakings. It was more honourable in Scipio to spend his exile at Liternum than at Baiae; his downfall did not need a setting so effeminate. Those also into whose hands the rising fortunes of Rome first transferred the wealth of the state, Gaius Marius, Gnaeus Pompey, and Caesar, did indeed build villas near Baiae; but they set them on the very tops of the mountains. This seemed more soldier-like, to look down from a lofty height upon lands spread far and wide below. Note the situation, position, and type of building which they chose; you will see that they were not country-places,—they were camps. Do you suppose that Cato would ever have dwelt in a pleasure-palace, that he might count the lewd women as they sailed past, the many kinds of barges painted in all sorts of colours, the roses which were wafted about the lake, or that he might listen to the nocturnal brawls of serenaders? Would he not have preferred to remain in the shelter of a trench thrown up by his own hands to serve for a single night? Would not anyone who is a man have his slumbers broken by a war-trumpet rather than by a chorus of serenaders?
But I have been haranguing against Baiae long enough; although I never could harangue often enough against vice. Vice, Lucilius, is what I wish you to proceed against, without limit and without end. For it has neither limit nor end. If any vice rend your heart, cast it away from you; and if you cannot be rid of it in any other way, pluck out your heart also. Above all, drive pleasures from your sight. Hate them beyond all other things, for they are like the bandits whom the Egyptians call “lovers,” who embrace us only to garrotte us. Farewell.
[1] Quomodo quisque potest, mi Lucili: tu istic habes Aetnam, <et illuc> nobilissimum Siciliae montem - quem quare dixerit Messala unicum, sive Valgius, apud utrumque enim legi, non reperio, cum plurima loca evomant ignem, non tantum edita, quod crebrius evenit, videlicet quia ignis in altissimum effertur, sed etiam iacentia -, nos, utcumque possumus, contenti sumus Bais; quas postero die quam attigeram reliqui, locum ob hoc devitandum, cum habeat quasdam naturales dotes, quia illum sibi celebrandum luxuria desumpsit.
[2] 'Quid ergo? ulli loco indicendum est odium?' Minime; sed quemadmodum aliqua vestis sapienti ac probo viro magis convenit quam aliqua, nec ullum colorem ille odit sed aliquem parum putat aptum esse frugalitatem professo, sic regio quoque est quam sapiens vir aut ad sapientiam tendens declinet tamquam alienam bonis moribus. [3] Itaque de secessu cogitans numquam Canopum eliget, quamvis neminem Canopus esse frugi vetet, ne Baias quidem: deversorium vitiorum esse coeperunt. Illic sibi plurimum luxuria permittit, illic, tamquam aliqua licentia debeatur loco, magis solvitur. [4] Non tantum corpori sed etiam moribus salubrem locum eligere debemus; quemadmodum inter tortores habitare nolim, sic ne inter popinas quidem. Videre ebrios per litora errantes et comessationes navigantium et symphoniarum cantibus strepentes lacus et alia quae velut soluta legibus luxuria non tantum peccat sed publicat, quid necesse est? [5] Id agere debemus ut irritamenta vitiorum quam longissime profugiamus; indurandus est animus et a blandimentis voluptatum procul abstrahendus. Una Hannibalem hiberna solverunt et indomitum illum nivibus atque Alpibus virum enervaverunt fomenta Campaniae: armis vicit, vitiis victus est. [6] Nobis quoque militandum est, et quidem genere militiae quo numquam quies, numquam otium datur: debellandae sunt in primis voluptates, quae, ut vides, saeva quoque ad se ingenia rapuerunt. Si quis sibi proposuerit quantum operis aggressus sit, sciet nihil delicate, nihil molliter esse faciendum. Quid mihi cum istis calentibus stagnis? quid cum sudatoriis, in quae siccus vapor corpora exhausurus includitur? omnis sudor per laborem exeat. [7] Si faceremus quod fecit Hannibal, ut interrupto cursu rerum omissoque bello fovendis corporibus operam daremus, nemo non intempestivam desidiam, victori quoque, nedum vincenti, periculosam, merito reprehenderet: minus nobis quam illis Punica signa sequentibus licet, plus periculi restat cedentibus, plus operis etiam perseverantibus. [8] Fortuna mecum bellum gerit: non sum imperata facturus; iugum non recipio, immo, quod maiore virtute faciendum est, excutio. Non est emolliendus animus: si voluptati cessero, cedendum est dolori, cedendum est labori, cedendum est paupertati; idem sibi in me iuris esse volet et ambitio et ira; inter tot affectus distrahar, immo discerpar. [9] Libertas proposita est; ad hoc praemium laboratur. Quae sit libertas quaeris? Nulli rei servire, nulli necessitati, nullis casibus, fortunam in aequum deducere. Quo die illam intellexero plus posse, nil poterit: ego illam feram, cum in manu mors sit?
[10] His cogitationibus intentum loca seria sanctaque eligere oportet; effeminat animos amoenitas nimia, nec dubie aliquid ad corrumpendum vigorem potest regio. Quamlibet viam iumenta patiuntur quorum durata in aspero ungula est: in molli palustrique pascuo saginata cito subteruntur. Et fortior miles ex confragoso venit: segnis est urbanus et verna. Nullum laborem recusant manus quae ad arma ab aratro transferuntur: in primo deficit pulvere ille unctus et nitidus. [11] Severior loci disciplina firmat ingenium aptumque magnis conatibus reddit. Literni honestius Scipio quam Bais exulabat: ruina eiusmodi non est tam molliter collocanda. Illi quoque ad quos primos fortuna populi Romani publicas opes transtulit, C. Marius et Cn. Pompeius et Caesar, exstruxerunt quidem villas in regione Baiana, sed illas imposuerunt summis iugis montium: videbatur hoc magis militare, ex edito speculari late longeque subiecta. Aspice quam positionem elegerint, quibus aedificia excitaverint locis et qualia: scies non villas esse sed castra. [12] Habitaturum tu putas umquam fuisse illic M. Catonem, ut praenavigantes adulteras dinumeraret et tot genera cumbarum variis coloribus picta et fluvitantem toto lacu rosam, ut audiret canentium nocturna convicia? nonne ille manere intra vallum maluisset, quod in unam noctem manu sua ipse duxisset? Quidni mallet, quisquis vir est, somnum suum classico quam symphonia rumpi?
[13] Sed satis diu cum Bais litigavimus, numquam satis cum vitiis, quae, oro te, Lucili, persequere sine modo, sine fine; nam illis quoque nec finis est nec modus. Proice quaecumque cor tuum laniant, quae si aliter extrahi nequirent, cor ipsum cum illis reveliendum erat. Voluptates praecipue exturba et invisissimas habe: latronum more, quos 'philêtas' Aegyptii vocant, in hoc nos amplectuntur, ut strangulent. Vale.
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Each of us does as best he can, my dear Lucilius. Over there you have Etna, that most renowned mountain of Sicily—though I cannot work out why Messala called it "unique," or whether it was Valgius, for I have read it in both. Many places, after all, spew out fire, and not only the high ones, which is the more common case (no doubt because flame is carried up to the greatest height), but low-lying places too. As for us, we are content, in whatever way we can manage, with Baiae—which I left the very day after I had reached it. It is a place to be shunned for this reason: though it has certain natural endowments, luxury has marked it out as her own playground.
"What of it, then?" you ask. "Is hatred to be declared against any particular place?" Not at all. But just as one garment suits a wise and upright man better than another—he does not hate any color, yet he judges some less fitting for a man who professes plain living—so there is also a region from which the wise man, or the man striving toward wisdom, will turn away as alien to good morals. And so, when he is thinking of retreat, he will never choose Canopus—though Canopus forbids no one to be frugal—nor even Baiae: both have begun to be the lodging-houses of the vices. There luxury grants itself the freest rein; there, as if some license were owed to the place itself, it lets go all the more.
We ought to choose a place that is wholesome not only for the body but also for the character. Just as I would not want to live among torturers, so neither would I want to live among cookshops. To see drunken men staggering along the shores, the carousing of pleasure-boaters, the lakes loud with the singing of musicians, and all the other things in which luxury—as though loosed from the laws—not only sins but parades its sin in public: what need is there of this? We ought to make it our work to flee as far as possible from the incitements to vice; the mind must be hardened and dragged far away from the seductions of pleasures. A single winter quarters unstrung Hannibal, and the comforts of Campania softened that man whom snows and the Alps could not subdue: he conquered by arms, but was conquered by vices.
We too must do military service, and indeed a kind of service in which no rest is ever granted, no leave: above all the pleasures must be fought down to the finish—pleasures which, as you see, have carried off even fierce natures. If a man sets before himself how great a task he has undertaken, he will know that nothing is to be done daintily, nothing softly. What have I to do with those steaming pools? What with the sweating-rooms, into which dry vapor is shut up to drain the body dry? Let all sweat come out through hard work. If we were to do what Hannibal did—break off the course of our campaign and, abandoning the war, give our effort to coddling our bodies—everyone would rightly fault such untimely idleness, perilous even for the victor, let alone for one still winning. We are permitted less than those who followed the Punic standards: more peril remains for us if we give ground, more labor too if we hold on.
Fortune wages war against me: I am not going to do her bidding. I do not take on the yoke; rather—and this calls for greater virtue—I shake it off. The mind must not be softened: if I give in to pleasure, I must give in to pain, give in to toil, give in to poverty. Ambition too will want the same rights over me, and so will anger; among so many passions I shall be torn apart—no, ripped to pieces. Freedom is set before me; it is for this prize that I labor. You ask what freedom is? To be slave to nothing, to no necessity, to no chance events, to bring Fortune down to a level field. On the day I understand that I have more power than she, she will have no power: I will endure her, when death is in my own hand?
A man intent on such thoughts ought to choose places that are grave and hallowed; too much pleasantness makes the spirit effeminate, and without doubt a region can do something to corrupt one's vigor. Pack animals whose hoofs are toughened on rough ground put up with any road; fattened on soft, marshy pasture, their hoofs are quickly worn through. The braver soldier comes from broken, rugged country; the city-dweller and the home-bred slave are sluggish. Hands transferred from the plow to arms refuse no toil: that sleek and glossy fellow gives out at the first dust. The sterner discipline of a place strengthens the character and makes it fit for great endeavors. It was more honorable for Scipio to live in exile at Liternum than at Baiae: a fall of that kind ought not to be cushioned so softly. Even those men into whose hands the rising fortunes of the Roman people first transferred the public wealth—Gaius Marius, Gnaeus Pompey, and Caesar—did build villas in the region of Baiae, yet they set them on the highest ridges of the mountains: this seemed more soldierly, to look out from a height over lands spread far and wide below. Look at the situation they chose, the places where and the kind of buildings they raised: you will see they are not villas but camps.
Do you suppose Marcus Cato would ever have lived there, to count up the adulteresses sailing past, and so many kinds of skiffs painted in various colors, and the roses drifting all over the lake, or to listen to the nighttime catcalls of serenaders? Would he not rather have stayed within a rampart that he himself had thrown up by his own hand for a single night? Why would any man who is truly a man not prefer to have his sleep broken by the war-trumpet rather than by a concert?
But I have quarreled with Baiae long enough—never long enough with the vices. Those, I beg you, Lucilius, pursue without limit, without end; for they too have neither end nor limit. Cast away whatever tears at your heart, things which, if they could not be drawn out any other way, would have to be torn out together with the heart itself. Above all, drive out the pleasures and hold them as the most hateful of all: like the bandits whom the Egyptians call "philetai" ["lovers"], they embrace us only to strangle us. Farewell.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.
Latin / Greek Original
[1] Quomodo quisque potest, mi Lucili: tu istic habes Aetnam, <et illuc> nobilissimum Siciliae montem - quem quare dixerit Messala unicum, sive Valgius, apud utrumque enim legi, non reperio, cum plurima loca evomant ignem, non tantum edita, quod crebrius evenit, videlicet quia ignis in altissimum effertur, sed etiam iacentia -, nos, utcumque possumus, contenti sumus Bais; quas postero die quam attigeram reliqui, locum ob hoc devitandum, cum habeat quasdam naturales dotes, quia illum sibi celebrandum luxuria desumpsit.
[2] 'Quid ergo? ulli loco indicendum est odium?' Minime; sed quemadmodum aliqua vestis sapienti ac probo viro magis convenit quam aliqua, nec ullum colorem ille odit sed aliquem parum putat aptum esse frugalitatem professo, sic regio quoque est quam sapiens vir aut ad sapientiam tendens declinet tamquam alienam bonis moribus. [3] Itaque de secessu cogitans numquam Canopum eliget, quamvis neminem Canopus esse frugi vetet, ne Baias quidem: deversorium vitiorum esse coeperunt. Illic sibi plurimum luxuria permittit, illic, tamquam aliqua licentia debeatur loco, magis solvitur. [4] Non tantum corpori sed etiam moribus salubrem locum eligere debemus; quemadmodum inter tortores habitare nolim, sic ne inter popinas quidem. Videre ebrios per litora errantes et comessationes navigantium et symphoniarum cantibus strepentes lacus et alia quae velut soluta legibus luxuria non tantum peccat sed publicat, quid necesse est? [5] Id agere debemus ut irritamenta vitiorum quam longissime profugiamus; indurandus est animus et a blandimentis voluptatum procul abstrahendus. Una Hannibalem hiberna solverunt et indomitum illum nivibus atque Alpibus virum enervaverunt fomenta Campaniae: armis vicit, vitiis victus est. [6] Nobis quoque militandum est, et quidem genere militiae quo numquam quies, numquam otium datur: debellandae sunt in primis voluptates, quae, ut vides, saeva quoque ad se ingenia rapuerunt. Si quis sibi proposuerit quantum operis aggressus sit, sciet nihil delicate, nihil molliter esse faciendum. Quid mihi cum istis calentibus stagnis? quid cum sudatoriis, in quae siccus vapor corpora exhausurus includitur? omnis sudor per laborem exeat. [7] Si faceremus quod fecit Hannibal, ut interrupto cursu rerum omissoque bello fovendis corporibus operam daremus, nemo non intempestivam desidiam, victori quoque, nedum vincenti, periculosam, merito reprehenderet: minus nobis quam illis Punica signa sequentibus licet, plus periculi restat cedentibus, plus operis etiam perseverantibus. [8] Fortuna mecum bellum gerit: non sum imperata facturus; iugum non recipio, immo, quod maiore virtute faciendum est, excutio. Non est emolliendus animus: si voluptati cessero, cedendum est dolori, cedendum est labori, cedendum est paupertati; idem sibi in me iuris esse volet et ambitio et ira; inter tot affectus distrahar, immo discerpar. [9] Libertas proposita est; ad hoc praemium laboratur. Quae sit libertas quaeris? Nulli rei servire, nulli necessitati, nullis casibus, fortunam in aequum deducere. Quo die illam intellexero plus posse, nil poterit: ego illam feram, cum in manu mors sit?
[10] His cogitationibus intentum loca seria sanctaque eligere oportet; effeminat animos amoenitas nimia, nec dubie aliquid ad corrumpendum vigorem potest regio. Quamlibet viam iumenta patiuntur quorum durata in aspero ungula est: in molli palustrique pascuo saginata cito subteruntur. Et fortior miles ex confragoso venit: segnis est urbanus et verna. Nullum laborem recusant manus quae ad arma ab aratro transferuntur: in primo deficit pulvere ille unctus et nitidus. [11] Severior loci disciplina firmat ingenium aptumque magnis conatibus reddit. Literni honestius Scipio quam Bais exulabat: ruina eiusmodi non est tam molliter collocanda. Illi quoque ad quos primos fortuna populi Romani publicas opes transtulit, C. Marius et Cn. Pompeius et Caesar, exstruxerunt quidem villas in regione Baiana, sed illas imposuerunt summis iugis montium: videbatur hoc magis militare, ex edito speculari late longeque subiecta. Aspice quam positionem elegerint, quibus aedificia excitaverint locis et qualia: scies non villas esse sed castra. [12] Habitaturum tu putas umquam fuisse illic M. Catonem, ut praenavigantes adulteras dinumeraret et tot genera cumbarum variis coloribus picta et fluvitantem toto lacu rosam, ut audiret canentium nocturna convicia? nonne ille manere intra vallum maluisset, quod in unam noctem manu sua ipse duxisset? Quidni mallet, quisquis vir est, somnum suum classico quam symphonia rumpi?
[13] Sed satis diu cum Bais litigavimus, numquam satis cum vitiis, quae, oro te, Lucili, persequere sine modo, sine fine; nam illis quoque nec finis est nec modus. Proice quaecumque cor tuum laniant, quae si aliter extrahi nequirent, cor ipsum cum illis reveliendum erat. Voluptates praecipue exturba et invisissimas habe: latronum more, quos 'philêtas' Aegyptii vocant, in hoc nos amplectuntur, ut strangulent. Vale.