1Your letter affected me in different ways; 1for it contained partly happy news, partly sad: happy, in that it told me you were kept in the city — 'I wish I were not,' you say; 1but I do wish it — and besides that it promised you would give a recitation as soon as I had arrived; 1I thank you for waiting for me. 2The sad news is that Julius Valens is gravely ill; 2though not even this is sad, if it is judged by his own interests, for it is to his advantage to be freed as soon as possible from an incurable disease. 3What is clearly not only sad but grievous is that Julius Avitus has died while returning from his quaestorship, died on board ship, far from a most loving brother, far from his mother and his sisters — these things mean nothing to the dead, but they meant something while he was dying, and they mean something to those who survive —; 4and then that a young man of such great promise has been snuffed out in his first bloom, who would have reached the highest things, had his virtues come to maturity.
5How he burned with love of study! 5how much he read, how much he even wrote! 5all of which has now perished with him, without benefit to posterity. 6But why do I give way to grief? 6If you slacken the reins on it, there is no matter that is not of the greatest weight. 6I shall end my letter, so that I may also be able to end the tears which the letter has drawn from me. 6Farewell.