Lucius Piso, did you dare at that time with that eye (I will not say with that mind ) with
 that forehead (I will not say with what character,) and with that arrogance (for I cannot say,
 after such achievements,) to unite with Aulus Gabinius in forming plans for my ruin? Did not
 the odour of that man's perfumes, or his breath reeking with wine, or his forehead marked with
 the traces of the curling-iron, lead you to think that as you were like him in reality, you
 were no longer able to use the impenetrability of your countenance to conceal such enormous
 atrocities? Did you dare to continue with that man to abandon the consular dignity,—the
 existing condition of the republic,—the authority of the senate,—the fortunes of a citizen who
 had above all others deserved well of the republic, to the provinces? While you 
 were consul, according to your edicts and commands, it was not allowed to the Roman senate or
 people to come to the assistance of the republic, I will not say by their votes and their
 authority, but even by their grief and their mourning garb. Did you think that you were consul at Capua, a city where there was
 once the abode of arrogance, or at Rome, where all the consuls that ever existed before you
 were obedient to the senate? Did you dare, when you were brought forward in the Flaminian
 Circus, with your colleague, to say that you had always been merciful? by which expression you
 declared that the senate and all virtuous men were cruel at the time that I warded off ruin
 from the republic. You were a merciful man when you handed me over,—me, your own relation,—me,
 whom at your comitia you had appointed as chief guardian of
 the prerogative tribe, whose opinions on the calends of January you had asked then, bound and
 helpless to the enemies of the republic! You repelled my son-in-law, your own kinsman; you
 repelled your own near relation, my daughter, with most haughty and inhuman language, from
 your knees; and you, also, O man of singular mercy and clemency, when I, together with the
 republic, had fallen, not by a blow aimed by a tribune, but by a wound inflicted by a consul,
 behaved with such wickedness and such intemperance, that you did not allow one single hour to
 elapse between the time of my disaster and your plunder; you did not allow even time for the
 lamentations and groans of the city to die away. It was not yet openly known that the republic had fallen, when you thought fit to arrange
 its interment. At one and the same moment my house was plundered and set on fire, my property
 from my house on the Palatine Hill was taken to the house of the consul who was my neighbour,
 the goods from my Tusculan villa were also taken to the house of my neighbour there, the other
 consul; when, while the same mob of artisans were giving their votes, the same gladiator
 proposing and passing laws, the forum being unoccupied, not only by virtuous men, but even by
 free citizens, and being entirely empty, the Roman people being utterly ignorant what was
 going on, the senate being beaten down and crushed, there being two wicked and impious
 consuls, the treasury, the prisoners, the legions, allies and military commands, were given
 away as they pleased. 
 But the ruin wrought by these consuls you, O consuls, have prevented
 from spreading further by your virtue, being assisted as you have been by the admirable
 loyalty and diligence of the tribunes of the people and the praetors. What shall I say of that most illustrious man, Titus Annius? This was
 Titus Annius Milo, by which last name he is best known to us. He was tribune, and finding it
 impossible to bring Clodius to justice in the legal way, resolved to deal with him according
 to his own fashion, and bought a troop of gladiators, at the head of whom he had daily
 skirmishes with him in the streets. or, who can ever speak of such a citizen in an
 adequate or worthy manner? For when he saw that a wicked citizen, or, it would be more correct
 to say, a domestic enemy, required (if it were only possible to employ the laws) to be crushed
 by judicial proceedings, or that if violence hindered and put an end to the courts of justice,
 in that case audacity must be put down by virtue, madness by courage, rashness by wisdom, hand
 by hand, violence by violence, he first of all prosecuted him for violence; when he saw that
 the very man whom he was prosecuting had destroyed the courts of justice, he took care that he
 should not be able to carry everything by violence. He taught us that neither private houses,
 nor temples, nor the forum, nor the senate-house could be defended from the bands of domestic
 robbers without the greatest gallantry, and large resources and numerous forces. He was the
 first man after my departure who relieved the virtuous from fear, and deprived the audacious
 of hope; who delivered this august body from alarm, and the city from slavery. And Publius Sextius following the same line of conduct with equal virtue, courage, and
 loyalty, thought that there were no enmities, no efforts of violence, no attacks, no dangers
 even to his life, which it became him to shun, in defence of my safety, of your authority, and
 of the constitution of the state. He, by his diligence, so recommended the cause of the
 senate, thrown into disorder as it was by the harangues of wicked men, to the multitude, that
 your name soon became the most popular of all names, your authority the object of the greatest
 affection to all men. He defended me by every means that a tribune of the people could employ;
 and supported me by every sort of kind attention, just as if he had been my own brother; by
 his clients, and freedmen, and household, and resources, and letters, I was so much supported,
 that he seemed to be not only my assistant under, but my partner in calamity.