When, O Catiline, do you mean to cease abusing our patience? How long is that madness of
yours still to mock us? When is there to be an end of that unbridled audacity of yours,
swaggering about as it does now? Do not the nightly guards placed on the Palatine
Hill—do not the watches posted throughout the city—does not the alarm of
the people, and the union of all good men—does not the precaution taken of
assembling the senate in this most defensible place—do not the looks and
countenances of this venerable body here present, have any effect upon you? Do you not feel
that your plans are detected? Do you not see that your conspiracy is already arrested and
rendered powerless by the knowledge which every one here possesses of it? What is there that
you did last night, what the night before— where is it that you were—who
was there that you summoned to meet you—what design was there which was adopted by
you, with which you think that any one of us is unacquainted?
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