At the behest of a dream, illustrious Quintillus,
I make you a present of the “Octogenarians.” I
had the dream and told my friends of it long since,
when you were christening your second child. At
the time, however, not being able to understand
what the god meant by commanding me to “present
you the octogenarians,” I merely offered a prayer that
you and your children might live very long, thinking
that this would benefit not only the whole human
race but, more than anyone else, me in person and
all my kin; for I too, it seemed, had a blessing
predicted for me by the god.