M. Tullius Cicero, Against Piso
C. D. Yonge, Ed.

Why need I bring forward your investigations into capital charges, your agreements with criminals, your most iniquitous condemnation of some, your most profligate acquittal of others? You know well that every circumstance concerning these matters is known to me, and I will leave you to recollect how many crimes of that class and of what great enormity they were. What? have you any recollection of that workshop of arms where, having collected together all the cattle of the whole province, under some pretext connect with the hides, you repeated the whole of the profits which had been made by your family, and by your own father? For you, when you were a pretty big boy, at the time of the Italian war, had seen your house crammed full of the gains made when your father superintended the manufactory of arms. What? do you not recollect that the province was made a source of revenue to your slaves to whom you farm it, by putting a fixed import duty on every single thing which was sold? What? do you forget that centurionships were sold openly? [88] What? do you deny that rank was dispensed by your slaves? What? do you deny that during all the years pay was furnished to your troops by the cities of the province, the months for which each city was to find the money being openly settled? What? have you forgotten that journey of yours into Pontus and your attempts there? have you forgotten your prostration and abjectness of mind when news was brought to you that Macedonia was made praetorian province, and when you fell down fainting a half dead, not only because your successor was appointed, but also that Gabinius's was not?
****¹ Did you not send away a quaestor of aedilitian rank? Was not every one of the most virtuous of your lieutenants insulted by you? Did you not refuse to receive the military tribunes? Was not Marcus Baebius, a brave man, murdered by your commands? [89] Why need I tell how often you, distrusting and despairing of your fortunes, lay down in mourning, and lamentation, and misery? Why need I tell how you sent to that priest, so beloved the people, six hundred men of the friends, or allies, or tributaries of the Roman people, to be exposed to wild beasts?

Need I relate how, when you were scarcely able to supply your disappointment and grief at your departure from the province, you first of all went to Samothrace, after that Thasos with your train of young dancing boys, and with Autobulus, and Athamas, and Timocles, those beautiful brothers?—that when you departed thence you lay for many days weeping in the villa of Euchadia, who was the wife Execestus? and from thence, disguised in shabby garments you came to Thessalonica by night, without any one knowing it?—that then, when you could not bear the crowds of in who came about you bewailing the state to which you had reduced them, nor the torrent of their complaints, you fled away to Beroea, a town out of your road? Need I relate how, when a rumour that Quintus Ancharius was not going to be appointed your successor had elated your mind with false hopes, while you were in that town, you again, O wretched man, gave the rein to all your former intemperance?