1Your freedman, with whom you had said you were angry, came to me and, throwing himself at my feet, clung to them as if they were yours. 1He wept much, begged much, was also silent much, and in short convinced me of his true repentance: I believe he is reformed, because he feels that he has done wrong. 2You are angry, I know, and you are angry with good reason, that too I know; 2but the praise for mildness is greatest precisely when the cause of anger is most just. 3You loved the man and, I hope, will love him again: meanwhile it is enough that you let yourself be prevailed upon.
3You may be angry again if he deserves it, and having once been prevailed upon you will do so with better excuse. 3Make some allowance for his youth, make allowance for his tears, make allowance for your own kindness. 3Do not torment him, and do not torment yourself too; 3for you are tormented when, gentle as you are, you are angry. 4I fear I may seem not to ask but to compel, if I join my prayers to his; 4yet I shall join them all the more fully and lavishly, as I rebuked him the more sharply and severely, threatening sternly that I would never plead for him again. 4That I said to him, who needed to be frightened; I do not say the same to you; 4for perhaps I shall plead again, and succeed again: only let it be such that it is fitting for me to ask and for you to grant.
4Farewell.