On the Crown (266-270)

Much I pass by; but on this very day, I am on proof for the honor of a crown, and acknowledged to be guiltless; you have already the reputation of an informer, and the question at hazard for you is, whether you are still to continue in that trade, or be stopped for ever by getting less than your quota of votes. And that is the good fortune enjoyed by you, who denounce the shabbiness of mine!

Let me now read to you the testimony of the public services I have rendered, and you shall read for comparison some of the blank-verse you used to make such a hash of:

From gates of gloom and dwellings of the dead,[*]

Tidings of woe with heavy heart I bear,

Oh cruel, cruel fate!

(The Depositions are read)

Such has been my character in public life. In private life, if any of you are not aware that I have been generous and courteous, and helpful to the distressed, I do not mention it. I will never say a word, or tender any evidence about such matters as the captives I have ransomed, or the dowries I have helped to provide, or any such acts of charity.

It is a matter of principle with me. My view is that the recipient of a benefit ought to remember it all his life, but that the benefactor ought to put it out of his mind at once, if the one is to behave decently, and the other with magnanimity. To remind a man of the good turns you have done to him is very much like a reproach. Nothing shall induce me to do anything of the sort; but whatever be my reputation in that respect, I am content.

I have finished with private matters, but I have still some trifling remarks to offer on public affairs. If you, Aeschines, can name any human being, Greek or barbarian, on whom yonder sun shines, who has escaped all injury from the domination, first of Philip, and today of Alexander, so be it: I grant you that my fortune— or my misfortune, if you prefer the word—has been the cause of the whole trouble.