Letter 101.2

To Marcus Caesar, 1.2 [1 Hout; 1.80 Haines] Marcus Caesar to my master Fronto 1. What could I ever say that would do justice to this fortune of mine, or how could I rightly inveigh against this most cruel necessity of mine, which keeps me bound here with a mind so anxious and hindered by such great anguish, and does not allow me to run at once to my Fronto, to my most beautiful soul, and above all, given his present state of health, to see him close at hand, to hold his hands, and finally—as far as it can be done without causing him discomfort—to handle that very foot of his gently, to bathe it warmly in the bath, to put my hand under him as he steps in? And you call me a friend, who do not, casting all things aside, fly to you at a headlong pace? In truth, I am the more lame of us, with this bashfulness of mine—or rather, this sloth. Oh, what am I to say of myself? I am afraid to say anything you would not wish to hear; for you have indeed striven in every way to draw me away from my care with those jests of yours and those most charming words, and to show that you can endure all this with an even mind. But as for me, I do not know where my own mind is—except that I know this much: it has gone off, by some means I cannot tell, to you. Take care, have pity, and by every restraint and abstinence drive off this sickness, which you in your virtue must endure, but which to me is the harshest and most worthless of things, and set out for the waters [a spa cure]. If—and as to when—write to me quickly, I beg you, that you are now doing well, and put my mind back into my breast. Meanwhile I will carry about with me even a letter from you such as this one. 2. Farewell, my most delightful Fronto—though I ought, of course, to phrase it more carefully (for you do require such things): O good gods who are everywhere, may my Fronto, most delightful and most dear to me, fare well, I pray; may he ever fare well with a body whole, untouched, and unharmed; may he fare well and be able to be with me. Most charming of men, farewell.

Baiae , 143 A.D. Imperator to my master Fronto. 1. What shall I say, that is adequate, as to my ill-fortune, or how inveigh as it deserves against this most hard necessity which keeps me a prisoner here with a heart so anxious and fettered with such great apprehension and does not let me run at once to my Fronto, to my most beautiful of souls, above all to be with him at a time when he is so unwell, to clasp his hands and in fine, as far as may be without pain, to massage the poor foot itself, foment it in the bath, and support him as he steps in? And do you call me a friend, who do not throw aside all hindrances and fly in hot haste to you? I, indeed, am more lame than you with that diffidence or, rather, laziness of mine. Oh, as to myself—what shall I say? I am afraid of saying something you would not like to hear, for you indeed have always striven in every way, with your humorous sallies and your wittiest of words, to divert my mind, and to shew me that you can put up with all your ills with unruffled fortitude. But where my fortitude has gone to I know not, if it be not yonder in some mysterious way to you. For mercy's sake endeavour with all self-denial and all abstinence to shake off this attack which you, indeed, can endure with your usual courage, but to me it is the worst and sorest of trials. 2. Write and tell me quickly, I beseech you, to what waters you are going and when, and how well you now are, and set my mind going in my breast again. Meanwhile I will carry about your letter in spite of its sad tenor. Farewell, my most delightful Fronto: and yet I ought to put it more correctly thus—for to fare well is, of course, always your wish—: O ye kind Gods, that are everywhere, grant, I beseech you, health to my Fronto, dearest to me and most delightful: let him ever be well with a hardy, hale, healthy body: let him be well and able to be with me. Most charming of men, farewell.

ad M. Caesarem 1.2 [1 Hout; 1.80 Haines] M. Caesar M. Frontoni magistro meo 1 Quid ego ista mea fortuna satis dixerim vel quomodo istam necessitatem meam durissimam condigne incusavero, quae me istic ita animo anxio tantaque sollicitudine praepedito alligatum attinet neque me sinit ad meum Frontonem, ad meam pulcherrimam animam confestim percurrere, praesertim in hujusmodi ejus valetudine propius videre, manus tenere, ipsum denique illum pedem, quantum sine incommodo fieri possit, adtrectare sensim, in balneo fovere, ingredienti manum subicere? Et tu me amicum vocas, qui non abruptis omnibus cursu concitato pervolo? Ego vero magis sum claudus cum ista mea verecundia, immo pigritia. O me, quid dicam? Metuo, quicquam dicere, quod tu audire nolis; nam tu quidem me omni modo conisus es jocularibus istis tuis ac lepidissimis verbis a cura amovere atque te omnia ista aequo animo perpeti posse ostendere. At ego ubi animus meus sit nescio; nisi hoc scio, illo nescio, quo ad te profectum eum esse. Cura, miserere, omni temperantia, abstinentia omnem istam tibi pro tua virtute tolerandam, mihi vero asperrimam nequissimamque valetudinem depellere et ad aquas proficisci. Si et quando et, nunc ut commode agas, cito, oro, perscribe mihi et mentem meam in pectus meum repone. Ego interim vel tales tuas litteras mecum gestabo. 2 Vale, mihi Fronto jucundissimme, quamquam ita me dispositius dicere oportet (nam tu quidem postulas talia): O qui ubique estis di boni, valeat, oro, meus Fronto jucundissimus atque carissimus mihi, valeat semper integro, inlibato, incolumi corpore, valeat et mecum esse possit. Homo suavissime, vale.