Philippiques Passage 77

at videte levitatem hominis . cum hora diei decima fere ad Saxa rubra venisset, delituit in quadam cauponula atque ibi se occultans perpotavit ad vesperum ; inde cisio celeriter ad urbem advectus domum venit capite involuto . ianitor , quis tu? A Marco tabellarius. confestim ad eam deducitur cuius causa venerat, eique epistulam tradidit. quam cum illa legeret flens - erat enim scripta amatorie ; caput autem litterarum sibi cum illa mima posthac nihil futurum; omnem se amorem abiecisse illim atque in hanc transfudisse - cum mulier fleret uberius, homo misericors ferre non potuit, caput aperuit, in collum invasit. O hominem nequam! quid enim aliud dicam? magis proprie nihil possum dicere. ergo , ut te catamitum, nec opinato cum te ostendisses, praeter spem mulier aspiceret, idcirco urbem terrore nocturno, Italiam multorum dierum metu perturbasti?

But observe the man's frivolity. Having reached Saxa Rubra at about the tenth hour of the day, he slipped into a little inn, hid there, and drank steadily until evening. From there he was swiftly carried to the city in a light carriage and reached home with his head wrapped up. The doorkeeper asked, 'Who are you?' 'A messenger from Marcus.' He was immediately led to the woman for whose sake he had come and handed her a letter. When she read it, she wept, for it had been written in the language of love. The gist of the letter was that he would have nothing more to do with that actress, that he had cast off all his love for her and transferred it to this woman. As the woman wept more copiously, the compassionate man could bear it no longer. He uncovered his head and threw himself upon her neck. O worthless man! What else can I call him? I can say nothing more precise. So, merely that the woman might behold you as her pretty boy when you unexpectedly revealed yourself, beyond all her hopes, you disturbed the city with terror by night and Italy with fear lasting many days?

Mais voyez la légèreté de cet homme. Arrivé vers la dixième heure aux Roches Rouges, il se cacha dans une petite auberge et, demeurant dissimulé, y but sans relâche jusqu’au soir. De là, transporté rapidement à Rome dans une petite voiture, il arriva chez lui la tête enveloppée. Le portier demande: «Qui es-tu?» «Un courrier de Marcus.» Il est aussitôt conduit auprès de celle pour qui il était venu et lui remet une lettre. Tandis qu’elle la lisait en pleurant, car elle était écrite sur le ton d’un amant et annonçait principalement qu’il n’aurait désormais plus rien à faire avec cette mime, qu’il avait rejeté tout son amour pour elle et l’avait reporté sur celle-ci, la femme se mit à pleurer plus abondamment. Notre homme compatissant ne put le supporter: il découvrit sa tête et se jeta à son cou. Ô vaurien! Que puis-je dire d’autre? Aucun mot ne saurait être plus exact. Ainsi, pour que cette femme te vît apparaître soudain comme son jeune favori, contre toute attente et au-delà de ses espérances, tu as troublé Rome par une terreur nocturne et l’Italie par une peur de plusieurs jours?