The familiar epistles of M.T. Cicero Englished and conferred with the: French Italian and other translations

Cicero to Terentia his wife, and to Tulliola, and Cicero his children. Epist. 2.

DOe not suppose that I vse to write very long Epistles to any man: except he write at large to me. And I thereupon iudge it reasonable, to make him alike answer. For first, I know not what to write; and then, at this time, there's nothing that I vndergoe more vnwillingly. And if this happen to me when I write to others, what may it doe now thinke you, when I write to your selues: to whom I cannot endite a letter, which is not accompanied with many teares: knowing you to be fallen into extreame miserie, whom I was euer desirous to behold in great fe∣licitie; which I was bound to endeuour; and had I not beene so tymerous had effected. Piso by his courteous offices hath procur'd, that wheras before I lo∣ued him, now I deseruedly stand bound vnto him. I haue withall possible efficacie exhorted him by letters, to ••he enterprise which is begunne for my good; and, as I ought I thanked him. You write, how you conceiue great ••opes, in the new T••ibunes of the peo∣••le. You may well hope, if Pompeius ••fford vs his assistance: but I doubt of

Crassus: I perceiue wi••h how great a spirit, and how louingly you vndergoe euery thing: neither doe I wonder at it; but notwithstanding, it exceedingly greeu••s me, that we are reduced to such a point, that my mise••ies cannot be e••∣sed, but wi••h yours. For, Publius Va∣lerius a very louing man wrote that vn∣to me, which drew from me many tears in reading it; how frō the temple of the Goddesse Vesta, you were led ••o ••he Va∣lerian Table. Alas! deare heart, and my only happin••s! is it then true, ••hat you my Terentia, to whom all others were wont in their necessities to h••u•• recourse for helpe, should now b••e so molested, and put to so much weeping, and miseries, and that this should p••o∣c••ed from my error, who haue pres••r∣ued others, to reserue vnto my selfe perpetuall a••fl••ctions. Whe••eas you write vnto me about the house, that is, touching the plat of ground: I will ••hen only hold that I am restor'd when that is res••ored. But what should I say? the••e things are not in our power. I•• grieues me that you b••ing poore, and destitute, should be vrged to beare part of the charges, which of necessitie we are to be at. Yet if the matter ob∣taine a wished end, wee shall haue good recompence for euery thing. But if Fortune no wai••s alt••r, wilt thou, poore soule, cast away ••hat little which thou

hast? Ah, deare heart•• leaue the charge vnto others, that are betterable (if they will) to sustaine it; do not, if ••ou loue me, torment that weake body of yours, as me thinkes you doe. For day ••nd night, you present your selfe vnto my thoughts. I see you vndergoe the burden of all paines, I know not how you are able to endure it; And I am afraid, least you ouercharge your selfe so much, as you will be enforc'd to giue ouer: bu•• I also obserue, that all hopes of my safetie depend on you. Be therefore carefull of your heal••h, to the end we may attaine to ••hat which you desire, and on which you haue bent all your cogitations. I know not to whom I should write; whether to them that write to mee, or to them that you wish me to write vnto. To con∣tent you, I will de••erre it no longer. But I would haue you send me letters as of∣ten as you can; especially if there bee the least certainetie of any hope. Fare∣well deare hearts, farewell. From Th••ssalonica the 4. of October.