Chapter 25

61 You came to Brundisium—straight into the lap and embrace of your little mime actress. What is it? Am I lying? How wretched to be unable to deny what it is utterly shameful to confess! If you felt no shame before the towns of Italy, did you feel none even before the veteran army? What soldier at Brundisium did not see her? Who did not know that she had traveled so many days to offer you her congratulations? Who did not grieve to discover so late what a worthless man he had followed?

62 Then another dash through Italy, with the same mime actress for company; the cruel, pitiful planting of soldiers in the towns; in Rome, the foul plunder of gold, silver, and above all wine. To this was added his appointment as master of the horse, through the favor of Caesar’s friends, without Caesar’s knowledge, while Caesar was at Alexandria. Then he thought himself entitled to live with Hippias and hand over the horses that yielded revenue to Sergius the mime. Then he chose for his residence not the house he now so badly keeps up, but that of Marcus Piso. Why should I bring forward his decrees? Why his robberies? Why the estates whose possession he granted? Why those he seized? Poverty drove him; he had nowhere to turn. The great inheritance from Lucius Rubrius had not yet come to him, nor the one from Lucius Turselius. Nor had he yet installed himself as sudden heir to Gnaeus Pompey and the many others who were absent. He was compelled to live as brigands do: his possessions could extend no further than his plunder.

63 But let us pass over these exploits of his more muscular wickedness and speak instead of the vilest kind of frivolity. With that throat, those flanks, that gladiator’s strength throughout your body, you had drained so much wine at Hippias’s wedding that the next day you had to vomit in full view of the Roman people. A spectacle foul not only to see but even to hear of! If this had happened to you at dinner, over those monstrous drinking cups of yours, who would not have thought it disgraceful? But at an assembly of the Roman people, conducting public business as master of the horse—a man for whom even a belch would have been shameful—you vomited lumps of food reeking of wine into your lap and over the whole tribunal. But he admits himself that these belong among his filthy deeds. Let us come to his brilliant ones.

61 You came to Brundisium, straight into your little mime actress’s lap and arms. Well? Am I lying? What a miserable position! You can’t deny something that’s utterly shameful to admit. Maybe you felt no shame before the towns. But didn’t you feel any before that veteran army? Which soldier at Brundisium hadn’t seen her? Which didn’t know she’d traveled so many days to congratulate you? Which didn’t grieve at learning so late what a worthless man he’d followed?

62 He raced across Italy again, with the same actress. Soldiers were settled in the towns. It was cruel and pitiful. In Rome, he shamelessly looted gold, silver, and especially wine. On top of that, Caesar’s friends did him a favor. They got him made master of the cavalry. Caesar was in Alexandria and knew nothing about it. Antony then thought he had every right to live with Hippias. He could give Sergius the mime the horses used to raise revenue, too. Back then, he chose Marcus Piso’s house to live in. It wasn’t the house he now struggles to hold on to. Why list his decrees? Why his robberies? Why the inherited estates he handed out? Why those he took away? Poverty drove him. He had nowhere to turn. He hadn’t yet received that great inheritance from Lucius Rubrius, or the one from Lucius Turselius. He hadn’t yet stepped in as sudden heir to Gnaeus Pompey and many other men who were away. He had to live like a bandit. He could only have as much as he could steal.

63 But let’s skip these more hard-edged crimes. Let’s talk instead about the worst sort of reckless foolishness. You have that throat and those sides. Your whole body is as solid as a gladiator’s. Yet you drained so much wine at Hippias’s wedding that you had to vomit the next day, before the Roman people. What a horrible thing to see, and even to hear about! Suppose it had happened at dinner, over those enormous cups of yours. Who wouldn’t have called it disgraceful? But you were master of the cavalry, doing public business before the assembled Roman people. Even burping would have been shameful for you. Instead, you vomited food chunks that reeked of wine. You filled your lap and the whole platform with them. But he himself admits these belong among his dirty deeds. Let’s move on to the bright spots.