and the chief men of the
city. What lacks there now to the honour of my statue, save the price
of the bronze and the service of the artist? These have never been
denied me even in small cities. Much less shall Carthage deny it,
Carthage, whose senate, even where greater issues are at stake,
decrees and counts not the cost. But I will speak of this more fully
at a later date, when you have given fuller effect to your resolution.
Moreover, when the time comes for the dedication of my statue, I will
proclaim my gratitude to you yet more amply in another written
discourse, will declare it to you, noble senators, to you, renowned
citizens, to you, my worthy friends. Yes, I will commit my gratitude
to the retentive pages of a book, that it may travel through every
province and, worlds and ages hence, record my praises of your
kindness to all peoples and all time.

[Footnote 56: _quantum spero_ (MSS.).]

_Fragment of a panegyric on Scipio Orfitus._

17. I leave it to those who are in the habit of obtruding themselves
upon their proconsul's leisure moments[57] to attempt to commend their
wits by the exuberance of their speech, and to glorify themselves by
affecting to bask in the smiles of your friendship. Both of these
offences are far from me, Scipio Orfitus. For on the one hand my poor
wit, such as it is, is too well known to all men to have any need of
further commendation; on the other hand, I prefer to enjoy rather than
to parade the friendship of yourself and such as you; I desire such
friendship, but I do not boast of it, for desire can in no case be
other than genuine, whereas boasting may always be false. With this in
view I have ever cultivated the arts of virtue, I have always sought
both here in Africa and when I moved among your friends in Rome to win
a fair name both for my character and studies, as you yourself can
amply testify, with the result that you should be no less eager to
court my friendship than I to long for yours. Reluctance to excuse the
rarity of a friend's appearances is a sign that you desire his
continual presence; if you delight in the frequency of his visits or
are angry with him for neglecting to come, if you welcome his company
and regret its cessation, it is clear proof of love, since it is
obvious that his presence must be a pleasure whose absence is a pain.
But the voice, if it be refrained in continued silence, is as useless
as the nostrils when choked by a cold in the head, the ea