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.