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Epistulae ad Familiares, VI. xxii.

most dear; to take thought for your own safety and that of those who are dependent upon you; to apply to the present crisis all the lessons you have learned, all the wisdom bequeathed you by the greatest philosophers, which you have so admirably stored in your memory and assimilated in mind from the days of your early manhood; and finally, to bear, if not with calmness, at least with courage, your yearning for those bound to you by the strongest ties of affection and a thousand acts of kindness—the friends you have now lost.[1]

3 What I can do myself, I know not, or rather I feel that what I can do is all too little; this much, however, I promise you, that whatever I deem conducive to your welfare and honour, that I will do with as much earnestness as you have consistently shown, and effectively too, in dealing with my affairs. These good intentions of mine I have conveyed to your mother, who is the best of women and most devoted to you.

If you send me any message, I shall act in accordance with what I conceive to be your wishes; but even if you fail to do so, I shall none the less attend most zealously and assiduously to whatever I consider to be to your advantage. Farewell.

  1. ↑ What Domitius had done, or signified his intention of doing, to call for so long and earnest an exhortation, must remain unknown. Perhaps he had threatened to join the Pompeian party in Spain, which Tyrrell and Purser consider more likely than that he contemplated suicide.
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