1The speech which you have often demanded and I have often promised, I have sent you, though not yet the whole of it; 1for part of it is still being polished. 2Meanwhile it seemed not out of place to submit to your judgement the parts which seemed to me more finished. 2To these, I ask you, give the close attention of a writer. 2For I have never yet had anything in hand on which I ought to bestow greater care. 3For in my other speeches only my diligence and good faith will be submitted to men's judgement; in this one my devotion to my country as well. 3Hence too the book has grown, as I delight in adorning and magnifying my native town, and serve at once both its defence and its glory.
4Yet you must cut back even these passages as far as reason demands. 4For whenever I consider the fastidiousness and delicate taste of readers, I understand that I must seek favour even from the very moderate length of the book. 5Yet I who demand this severity of you am compelled to ask for the very opposite as well, that in many places you relax your brow. 5For some things must be granted to the ears of young men, especially if the material does not resist; 5for descriptions of places, which will be rather frequent in this book, may properly be treated not only in the manner of history but almost in that of poetry.
6But if anyone should appear who thinks that I have written more exuberantly than the severity of oratory demands, the remaining parts of the speech will have to beg off his – if I may so call it – austerity. 7Certainly I have striven to hold readers of the most varied kinds by means of several styles of speaking, and just as I fear that some part may fail to win the approval of certain readers, according to the nature of each, so I think I can be confident that the very variety will commend the whole to all. 8For at dinners too, though each of us abstains from most dishes, we all usually praise the whole meal, and those things which our stomach refuses do not take away the charm of those by which it is captivated.
9And I want this to be taken, not as if I believed that I had achieved it, but as if I had laboured to achieve it, perhaps not in vain, if only you apply your care to these parts for now, and soon to those that follow. 10You will say that you cannot do this carefully enough unless you have first come to know the whole speech: I admit it. 10For the present, however, these parts will become more familiar to you, and some of them will be such that they can be corrected piece by piece. 11For if you were examining a head, or some limb, torn from a statue, you could not, it is true, make out from it the harmony and proportion of the whole, but you could still judge whether that piece itself was elegant enough; 12and for no other reason are books of opening passages passed around than because it is thought that some part may be perfect even without the rest.
13A certain pleasure in talking with you has carried me on too far; 13but now I shall make an end, so as not to exceed in a letter the limit which I think should be observed even in a speech. 13Farewell.