To Spectatus. (359)
I know perfectly well that asking you to make an effort on behalf of a friend is like inviting a tortoise to a footrace. For when you see Parthenius and receive this letter, you will put on the face of a man delighted both to see him and to receive it. You will ask what he needs, tell him to speak boldly, call even the greatest requests trivial, and promise that nothing will be denied. But when the moment for action arrives, you will abandon your post, throw your promises aside, and look at the man you have deceived with a loud laugh -- having discovered this novel defense: laughing louder than anyone else.
And yet, knowing all this, I write anyway. For either you will act according to your nature and prove my letter right, or you will rise above it and, in the very act of proving my letter wrong, you will help the man it was meant to help.
**To Spectatus** (359)
I know perfectly well that in urging you to exert yourself on behalf of a friend, I am calling a tortoise to a foot-race. For when you see Parthenius and receive this letter, you will put on the face of one delighted both to see him and to receive it. You will ask what he needs, you will bid him speak freely, you will call even the greatest requests trifling, and declare that nothing is impossible. But when the moment for action arrives, you will abandon your post, cast aside your promises, and look upon the man you have deceived with a brilliant laugh — having discovered this novel defense: laughing more than anyone else.
And yet, knowing all this, I write to you nonetheless. For now either you will act according to your nature and so confirm what I have written, or you will prove yourself superior to it — and in the very act of refuting my letter, you will benefit the man on whose behalf I refute you.
I know perfectly well that asking you to make an effort on behalf of a friend is like inviting a tortoise to a footrace. For when you see Parthenius and receive this letter, you will put on the face of a man delighted both to see him and to receive it. You will ask what he needs, tell him to speak boldly, call even the greatest requests trivial, and promise that nothing will be denied. But when the moment for action arrives, you will abandon your post, throw your promises aside, and look at the man you have deceived with a loud laugh -- having discovered this novel defense: laughing louder than anyone else.
And yet, knowing all this, I write anyway. For either you will act according to your nature and prove my letter right, or you will rise above it and, in the very act of proving my letter wrong, you will help the man it was meant to help.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.