1As in life, so in literature, I think it most admirable and most humane to mix seriousness and good humour, so that the one does not pass into gloom, the other into impudence. 2Guided by this principle, I intersperse my weightier works with playful and humorous pieces. 2To present these I chose a most suitable time and place, and so that they might grow used even now to being heard by people at leisure and in the dining room, in the month of July, when lawsuits are most at rest, I seated my friends on chairs placed before the couches. 3It happened by chance that on the morning of that same day I was asked to act as advocate at short notice, which gave me a reason for some introductory words.
3For I begged that no one should accuse me of disrespect for my work because, when about to give a reading, though to friends and few of them, that is, friends again, I had not kept away from the forum and business. 3I added that I followed this order in my writing too, putting necessities before pleasures, serious things before pleasant ones, and writing first for my friends and then for myself. 4The book was varied both in its little pieces and in its metres. 4This is what we usually do, we who have little confidence in our talent, to escape the danger of boring people. 4I read for two days.
4The approval of my audience demanded this; 4and yet, while others skip certain passages and take credit for skipping them, I leave nothing out, and indeed I say that I leave nothing out. 4For I read everything so that I may correct everything, which cannot happen for those who read selections. 5But that, you may say, is more modest and perhaps more respectful; 5but this is more candid and more affectionate. 5For a man shows love who thinks himself so loved that he does not fear causing boredom; 5and besides, what use are companions if they come together for their own pleasure? 5A man is fastidious and like a stranger who would rather hear a friend's book when it is good than make it good.
6I do not doubt that, with your affection for me in other things, you want to read this still unfermented book as soon as possible. 6You shall read it, but revised, which was the reason for the reading; 6and yet you already know some parts of it. 6These, corrected afterwards or, as sometimes happens after too long a delay, made worse, you will get to know as if new and rewritten. 6For when most things have been changed, even those that remain seem changed. 6Farewell.