M. Tullius Cicero, For Milo
C. D. Yonge, Ed.

But I have said enough about the cause; and, perhaps, too much that was foreign to the cause. What remains, except for me to pray and entreat you, O judges, to show that mercy to a most gallant man, which he himself does not implore; but which I, even against his will, implore and demand in his behalf? Do not if amid the tears of all of us you have seen no tears shed by Milo,—if you see his countenance always the same, his voice and language steady and unaltered,—do not, on that account, be the less inclined to spare him. I know not whether he does not deserve to be assisted all the more on that account. In truth, if in battles of gladiators, and in the case of men of the very lowest class and condition and fortune, we are accustomed to dislike those who are timid and suppliant, and who pray to be allowed to live, and if we wish to save those who are brave and courageous, and who offer themselves cheerfully to death; and if we feel more pity for those men who do not ask our pity, than for those who entreat it; how much more ought we to nourish those feelings in the case of our bravest citizens? [93] As for me, O judges, I am dispirited and almost killed by those expressions of Milo, which I hear continually; and at the utterance of which I am daily present: “May my fellow-citizens fare well,” says he; “may they fare well. May they be safe, and prosperous, and happy; may this illustrious city, and my country, which I love so well, long endure, however it may treat me; may my fellow-citizens (since I may not enjoy it with them) enjoy the republic in tranquillity without me, but still in consequence of my conduct. I will submit and depart; if it cannot be allowed me to enjoy a virtuous republic, at least I shall be at a distance from a bad one; and the first well regulated and free city that I arrive at in that will I rest. Oh how vain,” says he, “are the labours which I have undertaken! Oh how fallacious have been my hopes! [94] Oh how empty all my thoughts! When as tribune of the people, when the republic was oppressed, I had devoted myself to the senate, which, when I came into office, was utterly extinct; and to the Roman knights, whose power was enfeebled, and to the virtuous part of the citizens, who had given up all their authority under the arms of Clodius; could I ever have thought that I should fail to find protection from the citizens? When I had restored you” (for he very frequently converses with me and addresses me) “to your country, could I ever suppose that I myself should have no place in my country? Where now is the senate which we followed? where are those Roman knights, those knights,” says he, “so devoted to you? where is the zeal of the municipal towns? where is the voice of Italy? what, above all, has become of that voice of yours, O Marcus Tullius, which has been an assistance to many; what has become of your voice and defensive eloquence? am I the only person whom it is unable to help, I who have so often exposed myself to death for your sake?”