Letter 6004: Never before have I chafed so much at being so busy that I could not accompany you when you set out for Campania to...

To Calpurnia. Never before have I chafed so much at being so busy that I could not accompany you when you set out for Campania to recover your health, nor yet follow and overtake you after you had started. For now especially I should like to be with you to see with my own eyes how much strength you are gaining, what weight that delicate frame of yours is putting on, and whether you are enjoying yourself without let or hindrance in the relaxation and among the rich, generous pleasures of Campania. I am quite anxiously longing to hear that you are strong again, for it makes one nervous and troubled to get no news of those whom we love very dearly, when they are away from us, and your absence, coupled with your weak state of health, keeps me constantly upon the rack. I am afraid of all sorts of things; I fancy anything may have happened, and, like all anxious people, I am especially given to conjuring up the thoughts that I most dread. I entreat you, therefore, to remember how nervous I am about you, and write me once, or even twice a day. For while I am reading your letters, I will feel easier in my mind, though, when I have read through to the end, my fears will immediately recur. Farewell.

L To Calpurnia. Never before have I chafed so much at being so busy that I could not accompany you when you set out for Campania to recover your health, nor yet follow and overtake you after you had started. For now especially I should like to be with you to see with my own eyes how much strength you are gaining, what weight that delicate frame of yours is putting on, and whether you are enjoying yourself without let or hindrance in the relaxation and among the rich, generous pleasures of Campania. I am quite anxiously longing to hear that you are strong again, for it makes one nervous and troubled to get no news of those whom we love very dearly, when they are away from us, and your absence, coupled with your weak state of health, keeps me constantly upon the rack. I am afraid of all sorts of things; I fancy anything may have happened, and, like all anxious people, I am especially given to conjuring up the thoughts that I most dread. I entreat you, therefore, to remember how nervous I am about you, and write me once, or even twice a day. For while I am reading your letters, I shall feel easier in my mind, though, when I have read through to the end, my fears will immediately recur. Farewell.