ing and controling his violence and fury; and lastly, upon his commencing his accuser: for Clodius, as long as he lived, was liable to be convicted by Milo upon the Plotian law. Can you, my lords, imagine that all this could go easily down with the overbearing spirit of Clodius? How deep, and in an unjust person even how justifiable, must have been his hatred!

It now remains that Clodius should be vindicated, by arguments drawn from his manners and character, and that these must convict Milo. It must be proved that Clodius was all gentleness, and Milo all violence! How so, my lords? When I bad my melancholy adieu to you and this city, did I decline standing my trial, or did I not retire from the slaves, the arms, and the outrages of Clodius? Then where was the justice in restoring me to liberty, if he could be justified in driving me into exile? He had summoned me, I know he had, to take my trial; he had amerced me in a fine, and impeached me of treason. Had I reason to dread the event of a trial in a cause, which, as it related to you, was infamous, and, as it concerned me, inglorious? Was this the case? No: but I was unwilling to expose my countrymen, whose liberties my counsels had preserved, and whose lives my dangers had saved, to the swords of needy slaves and profligate citizens..

I saw, my lords, I saw Quintus Hortensius, the present light and ornament of the republic, almost assassi nated by slaves while he assisted me; and in the same tumult, the excellent Marcus Vibienus, a senator, who was in his company, was mortally wounded. When did the dagger, bequeathed to Clodius by Cataline, afters wards rest in its sheath? He aimed it at me; but I was unwilling_that you, my lords, should interpret the stroke. It threatened the life of Pompey, and stained the Appian way, that monument of the Clodian family, with the blood of Papyrius. The same, the very same dagger, you know it, was, after long intermission, again lifted to my breast, and lately had almost put an end to my days at the Palatium.

WHAT, now, of this kind can be laid to Milo's charge, whose force has only been employed to save the state from the violence of Clodius, when he could not be brought to a trial? Had he been inclined to kill him, how often had he the fairest opportunities of doing it! Might he not legally have revenged himself upon him, when he was defending his house and household gods against his assault? Might he not, when that excellent citizen and brave man, P. Sextus, his colleague, was wounded? Might he not, when Q. Fabricius, that wor thy man, was abused, and a most barbarous slaughter made in the forum, upon his proposing the law for my restoration? Might he not, when the house of L. Cæcilius, that upright and brave prætor, was attacked? Might he not, on that day when the law passed in relation to me? when a vast concourse of people, from all parts of Italy, animated with a concern for my safety, would, with joyful voice, have celebrated the glory of the action, and the whole city have claimed the honour of what was performing by Milo alone?—At that time P. Lentulus, a man of distinguished worth and bravery, was consul; the professed enemy of Clodius, the avenger of his crimes, the guardian of the senate, the defender of your decrees, the supporter of that public union, and the restorer of my safety: there were seven prætors, and eight tribunes of the people, in my interest, in opposition to him. Pompey, the first mover and pattern of my return, was his enemy; whose important and illustrious decree for my restoration, was seconded by the whole senate; who encouraged the Roman people, and when he passed a decree in my favour at Capua, gave the signal to all Italy, solicitous for my safety, and imploring his assistance in my behalf, to repair in a body to Rome, to have my sentence reversed. In a word, the citizens were then so inflamed with rage against him, from their affection to me, that had he been killed at that juncture, they would not have thought so much of acquitting as of rewarding the person by whose hand he fell.

And yet

Milo so far governed his temper, that though he prose cuted him twice in a court of judicature, he never had recourse to violent measures against him. But what do I say? While Milo was a private person, and stood accused by Clodius before the people, when Pompey was assaulted in the midst of a speech he was making in Milo's favour, what a fair opportunity, and I will even add, sufficient reason was there for dispatching him! Again, when Mark Antony had, on a late occasion, raised in the minds of all good men the most lively hopes of seeing the state in a happier condition; when that noble youth had bravely undertaken the defence of his country, in a most dangerous quarter, and had actually secured that wild beast in the toils of justice, which he endeavoured to avoid; immortal gods! how favourable was the time and place for destroying him! When Clodius concealed himself beneath a dark stair-case, how easily could Milo have destroyed that plague of his country, and thus have heightened the glory of Antony, without incurring the hatred of any! How often was it in his power, while the comitia were held in the field of Mars! When Clodius had forced his way within the inclosure, and his party began, by his direction, to draw their swords, and throw stones; and then, on a sudden, being struck with terror at the sight of Milo, fled to the Tiber; how earnestly did you, and every good man, wish that Milo had then displayed his valour!

Can you imagine, then, that Milo would choose to incur the ill-will of any by an action which he forebore when it would have gained him the applause of all? Would he make no scruple of killing him at the hazard of his own life, without any provocation, at the most improper time and place, whom he did not venture to attack when he had justice on his side, had so conve nient an opportunity, and would have run no risque?— especially, my lords, when his struggle for the supreme office in the state, and the day of his election was at hand; at which critical season (for I know by expe rience how timorous ambition is, and what a solicitous concern there is about the consulate) we dread not only the charges that may openly be brought against us, but even the most secret whispers, and hidden surmises when we tremble at every rumour, every false, forged,

and frivolous story; when we explore the features, and watch the looks of every one we meet. For nothing is so changeable, so ticklish, so frail, and so flexible, as the inclinations and sentiments of our fellow-citizens, upon such occasions; they are not only displeased with the dishonourable conduct of a candidate, but are often di, rusted with his most worthy actions. Shall Milo then be supposed, on the very day of election, a day which he had long wished for, and impatiently expected, to present himself before that august assembly of the cen turies, having his hands stained with blood, publicly acknowledging and proclaiming his guilt? Who can believe this of the man? Yet who can doubt, but that Clodius imagined he should reign without control, were Milo murdered? What shall we say, my lords, to that which is the source of all audaciousness? Does not every one know, that the hope of impunity is the grand temptation to the commission of crimes? Now which of these two was the most exposed to this? Milo, who is now upon his trial for an action which must be deemed at least necessary, if not glorious; or Clodius, who had so thorough a contempt for the authority of the magis trate, and for penalties, that he took delight in nothing that was either agreeable to nature, or consistent with law? But why should I labour this point so much, why dispute any longer? I appeal to you, Q. Petilius, who are a most worthy and excellent citizen; I call you, Marcus Cato, to witness; both of you placed on that tribunal by a kind of supernatural direction. You were told by M. Favonius, that Clodius declared to him, and you were told it in Clodius's life-time, that Milo should not live three days longer. In three days time he attempted what he had threatened. If he then made no scruple of publishing his design, can you entertain any doubt of it when it was actually carried into exe cution?

But how could Clodius be certain as to the day? This I have already accounted for. There was no difficulty in knowing when the dictator of Lanuvium was to perform his stated sacrifices. He saw that Milo was obliged to set out for Lanuvium on that very day: accordingly, he was beforehand with him. But on what day?—that day on which, as I mentioned before, a mad assembly

was held by his mercenary tribune: which day, which assembly, which tumult he would never have left, if he had not been eager to execute his meditated villany. So that he had not the least pretence for undertaking the journey, but a strong reason for staying at home; while Milo, on the contrary, could not possibly stay, and had not only a sufficient reason for leaving the city, but was under an absolute necessity of doing it. Now, what if it appear that, as Clodius certainly knew Milo would be on the road that day, Milo could not so much as suspect the same of Clodius? First then, I ask which way he could come at the knowledge of it? A question which you cannot put, with respect to Clodius: for had he applied to nobody else, T. Patinas, his intimate friend, could have informed him that Milo, as being dictator of Lanuvium, was obliged to create a priest there, on that very day. Besides, there were many other persons, all the inhabitants of Lanuvium indeed, from whom he might have very easily had this piece of intelligence. But of whom did Milo enquire of Clodius's return? I shall allow, however, that he did enquire; nay, I shall grant farther, with my friend Arrius, so liberal am I in my concessions, that he corrupted a slave. Read the evi. dence that is before you: C. Cassinius, of Interamna, surnamed Scola, an intimate friend and companion of P. Clodius, who swore, on a former occasion, that Clodius was at Interamna and at Rome at the same hour, tells you that P. Clodius intended to have spent that day at his seat near Alba; but that, hearing very unexpectedly of the death of Cyrus the architect, he determined immediately to return to Rome. The same evidence is given in by C. Clodius, another companion of P. Clodius.

Observe, my lords, how much this evidence makes for us. In the first place, it plainly appears, that Milo did not undertake his journey with a design to way-lay Clodius, as he could not have the least prospect of meeting him.

In the next place, (for I see no reason why I should not likewise speak for myself,) you know, my lords, there were persons who, in their zeal for carrying on this prosecution, did not scruple to say, that though the murder was committed by the hand of Milo, the plot