1Nor indeed did the same anger of the gods fail to inflict on his henchmen this madness, so that without the masks of his ancestors, without singing and games, without funeral procession, without laments, without eulogies, without a funeral, smeared with blood and mud, robbed of the ceremony of that last day which even enemies are wont to grant, he was cast out and half burnt. 1It was not right, I believe, that the images of most distinguished men should bring any honour to that most foul parricide, nor that his corpse should be mangled in any place rather than in the one where his life had been condemned. 87The fortune of the Roman people, so help me, seemed to me harsh by now and cruel, to allow him for so many years to trample on this state.
87He had polluted the most sacred rites with lust, broken through the most weighty decrees of the senate, openly bought himself off from the judges with money, harassed the senate in his tribunate, rescinded what had been done for the safety of the state with the agreement of all orders, driven me from my country, plundered my goods, burned my house, harassed my children and my wife, declared abominable war on Gnaeus Pompey, brought about the murders of magistrates and private citizens, burned my brother's house, laid waste Etruria, thrown many out of their homes and fortunes; 87he pressed on, he pressed hard; 87the community, Italy, the provinces, the kingdoms could not contain his madness; 87laws were already being engraved at his house which would make us over to our own slaves; 87there was nothing belonging to anyone, at least nothing that he had fallen in love with, which he did not think would be his this year.
88No one stood in the way of his plans but Milo. 88The very man who could have stood in his way he thought was bound to him by their recent reconciliation; 88Caesar's power he called his own; 88the feelings of good men he had despised in my misfortune: Milo alone pressed on him.