1I have received the book of yours which you had promised me, and I opened it as if I meant to read it at my leisure, and wished only to taste it. 1Then the book itself coaxed me to go further. 1How eloquent it was you may understand from this: 1it seemed light to me, although it was of the bulk neither of my body nor of yours, but such as might at first sight seem to be by Livy or by Epicurus. 1And it held me and drew me on with such sweetness that I read it through without any break. 1The sun was inviting me out, hunger was warning me, clouds were threatening; 1still, I drained the whole of it.
2I was not merely delighted but filled with joy. 2What talent it had, what spirit! 2I would say 'what dash', if it had paused now and then, if it had risen after an interval; 2as it is, there was not dash but a steady flow, a style manly and pure; 2nonetheless there came in from time to time that sweetness of yours, gentle in its place. 2You are lofty, you are upright; 2I want you to hold to this and to go on in this way. 2The subject too did something; 2for this reason one should choose a fertile one, which may take hold of the talent and spur it on.
3I shall write more about the book when I have gone over it again; 3as it is, my judgement is not settled enough, as though I had heard these things, not read them. 3Allow me to examine it too. 3There is no reason for you to be afraid; 3you will hear the truth. 3What a fortunate man you are, to have nothing for which anyone would lie to you from so far away! 3Except that nowadays, even when the reason has been removed, we lie for the sake of habit. 3Farewell.