You will say, "I could have wished that you had done so before." I know you did wish it, and that I have made a real ass of myself. But now the time has come to shew a little affection for myself, since I can get none from them on any terms. I am much obliged to you for frequently going to see my house. Crassipes[487] swallows up my money for travelling. Tullia will go straight to your suburban villa.[488] That seems the more convenient plan. Consequently she will be at your town house the next day: for what can it matter to you? But we shall see. Your men have beautified my library by making up the books and appending title-slips. Please thank them. [Footnote 486: παλινφδία--something he had apparently written and sent to Pompey or Cæsar, giving in his adhesion to the policy of the triumvirs. It can hardly have been the speech _de Provinciis Consularibus_ or the _oratio pro Balbo_, which had probably not yet been delivered, for the arrangement recommended in the former speech was not that of the conference of Luca, while in the latter, though he speaks respectfully of Cæsar, there is nothing in the shape of a palinode in general politics.] CVIII (F V, 12) TO L. LUCCEIUS[489] ARPINUM (APRIL) [Sidenote: B.C. 56, ÆT. 50] I have often tried to say to you personally what I am about to write, but was prevented by a kind of almost clownish bashfulness. Now that I am not in your presence I shall speak out more boldly: a letter does not blush. I am inflamed with an inconceivably ardent desire, and one, as I think, of which I have no reason to be ashamed, that in a history written by _you_ my name should be conspicuous and frequently mentioned with praise. And though you have often shewn me that you meant to do so, yet I hope you will pardon my impatience. For the style of your composition, though I had always entertained the highest expectations of it, has yet surpassed my hopes, and has taken such a hold upon me, or rather has so fired my imagination, that I was eager to have my achievements as quickly as possible put on record in your history. For it is not only the thought of being spoken of by future ages that makes me snatch at what seems a hope of immortality, but it is also the desire of fully enjoying in my lifetime an authoritative expression of your judgment, or a token of your kindness for me, or the charm of your genius. Not, however, that while thus writing I am unaware under what heavy burdens you are labouring in the portion of history you have undertaken, and by this time have begun to write. But because I saw that your history of the Italian and Civil Wars was now all but finished, and because also you told me that you were already embarking upon the remaining portions of your work, I determined not to lose my chance for the want of suggesting to you to consider whether you preferred to weave your account of me into the main context of your history, or whether, as