Book 2

The people of Croton, when they once flourished with all manner of resources and were counted among the foremost in their prosperity in Italy, wished to enrich with outstanding pictures the temple of Juno, which they worshipped with the deepest reverence. And so they engaged at a great price Zeuxis of Heraclea, who was then thought far to excel the other painters, and brought him in. He painted many other panels, some part of which has remained even to our own memory on account of the sanctity of the shrine; and, in order that a mute image might contain in itself the surpassing beauty of the female form, he said he wished to paint a portrait of Helen. The people of Croton, who had often heard that he greatly excelled others in painting the female body, gladly heard this. For they thought that, if he had laboured greatly in the very kind in which he was most powerful, he would leave them an outstanding work in that shrine.

Nor did that expectation then deceive them. For Zeuxis at once asked them what beautiful maidens they had. But they immediately led the man to the wrestling-school and showed him many boys endowed with great beauty. For at a certain time the people of Croton far surpassed all others in bodily strength and grace, and brought home from the athletic contests the most honourable victories with the greatest praise. When, therefore, he greatly admired the forms and bodies of the boys, "The sisters of these," they said, "are maidens among us. Therefore you can guess from these what grace they have." "Then provide me, I pray," said he, "with the most beautiful of these maidens, while I paint what I have promised you, so that the truth may be transferred from a living model into a mute image."

Then the people of Croton, by public decree, gathered the maidens into one place and gave the painter the power to choose whichever he wished. But he chose five, whose names many poets have handed down to memory, because they had been approved by the judgment of one who ought to have had the truest judgment of beauty. For he did not think that he could find in one body all the things he sought for loveliness, for the reason that nature has perfected nothing complete in every part in a single kind. And so, as though she would not have anything left to bestow on the rest if she granted everything to one, she endows each with some advantage joined to some defect.

Now since it has fallen to us too, by our wish, to write out an art of speaking, we have not set before ourselves any single model, all the parts of which, in whatever kind they were, we should think it necessary for us to express; but, having gathered all the writers into one place, we have excerpted from each what each seemed to teach most fittingly, and have gleaned the most excellent things from various talents. For of those who are worthy of name and memory, no one seemed to us to say nothing in the best manner, nor everything most excellently. Therefore it seemed folly either to withdraw from someone's good discoveries, if we were offended by some fault of his, or to add ourselves to the faults of one too by whose good precept we were guided in something.

But if in the other pursuits too men preferred to choose from many the most fitting thing rather than to attach themselves certainly to some one person, they would offend less in arrogance; they would not persevere so greatly in faults; they would suffer somewhat more lightly from ignorance. And if our knowledge of this art had been equal to his of painting, perhaps this work of ours would shine forth in its kind more than that noble picture of his in its own. For the power of choosing among examples was greater for us than for him. He was able to choose from one city and from that number of maidens who then existed; but to us, with the resources displayed of all who have existed from the very beginning of this instruction down to this time, there was the power of choosing whatever we pleased.

And indeed Aristotle gathered into one place the ancient writers on the art, traced back even to that prince and inventor Tisias, and, with great care, sought out by name the precepts of each, set them down clearly, and expounded them carefully and distinctly; and he so surpassed the inventors themselves in agreeableness and brevity of speech, that no one learns their precepts from their own books, but all who wish to understand what those men teach return to him as to a much more convenient expositor.

And he himself, indeed, set both himself and those who had been before him before us in plain view, so that we might come to know both the others and himself through himself; and those who set out from him, although they spent very much of their labour on the greatest parts of philosophy, just as he himself, whose principles they followed, had done, nevertheless left us very many precepts of speaking. And other teachers of speaking too flowed forth from another source, who likewise greatly assisted toward speaking, if the art accomplishes anything. For at the same time as Aristotle there was a great and noble rhetorician, Isocrates;

of whose own work we have not found what art is agreed to be his. But of his pupils, and of those who set out directly from this school, we have found many precepts on the art. From these two distinct families, as it were—of which the one, while it was engaged in philosophy, took upon itself some care for the art of rhetoric too, while the other was wholly occupied in the study and teaching of speaking—a certain single kind was fused together by later men, who brought into their own treatises, from both, those things which seemed fitly said; and these very men, together with those earlier ones, we have set before ourselves, all of them, as far as our ability allowed, and have ourselves too contributed something to the common store.

But if those things which are set forth in these books had to be chosen with as much care as the zeal with which they have been chosen, surely neither we nor others will regret our diligence. But if we shall seem rashly to have passed over something of someone's, or to have followed something not elegantly enough, we shall easily and gladly change our opinion when taught by someone. For it is not disgraceful to have learned too little, but to have persevered foolishly and long in what one has learned too little; for the one is attributed to the common weakness of men,

the other to the particular fault of each. Therefore we, for our part, without any positive assertion, while at the same time inquiring, shall state each thing tentatively, lest, while we gain some trifle—that we should seem to have written these things out fitly enough—we lose that which is greatest, namely, that we should not have assented to anything rashly and arrogantly. But this indeed we shall zealously aim at, both at this time and throughout our whole life, as far as our ability will allow; now, however, lest our discourse seem to have advanced too far, we shall speak of the rest of the things which seem to need teaching.

The first book, then, having set forth the nature of this art and its function, end, material, and parts, contained the kinds of controversies, the methods of invention, and the issues; then the parts of the speech, and into all of these all the precepts. Therefore, since in it the other matters were stated more distinctly, but those concerning confirmation and refutation in a scattered way, now we think we should hand down definite topics of confirming and refuting for each several kind of cause. And because it was set forth not carelessly in the first book in what way arguments ought to be handled, here only the discovered matters themselves will be set forth for each thing simply, without any embellishment, so that from this the discoveries themselves, but from the earlier book the polishing of the discoveries, may be sought. Therefore these things which will now be taught must be referred to the parts of confirmation and refutation.

Every demonstrative, deliberative, and judicial cause must necessarily turn on some one or more of those kinds of issue which were set forth before. Although this is so, nevertheless, while certain things can be taught in common about all, separately too there are different instructions for each kind. For praise ought to accomplish one thing, blame another, the expression of an opinion another, accusation or defence another. In trials it is inquired what is just; in demonstrations, what is honourable; in deliberations, as we hold, both what is honourable and what is useful. For the others have thought that in advising and dissuading the end ought to be set forth only in terms of usefulness.

Of those kinds, then, whose ends and outcomes are different, the precepts cannot be the same. Nor do we now say this, that the same issues do not fall upon them; but nevertheless a certain kind of speech arises from the very end and from the kind of cause, which pertains to the demonstration of someone's life or to the expression of an opinion. Therefore we shall now be occupied with the judicial kind of causes and of precepts, from which most things are transferred to the other kinds of causes too, when a similar controversy is involved, without any difficulty; afterwards we shall speak separately about the rest.

Now let us begin from the conjectural issue, of which let this be the example set forth: on a journey, someone accompanied a man who was setting out for a certain market and was carrying with him a fair sum of money. He fell into conversation with him, as commonly happens, on the road; from which it came about that they wished to make that journey more companionably. Therefore, when they had turned aside into the same inn, they wished to dine together and to take their rest in the same place. Having dined, they lay down to sleep in the same place. But the innkeeper—for so he is called after he was discovered, when he was caught in another crime—when he had noticed that other man, namely the one who had the money, by night, after he perceived that they were already sleeping rather soundly from weariness, came up and drew from its sheath the sword of the other of them, the one who was without money, which lay near at hand, and killed that other man, took away the money, put the bloody sword back in its sheath, and betook himself to his own bed. But that man by whose sword the killing had been done arose long before dawn, called to his companion once and again.

He thought the man, hindered by sleep, was not answering; he took up his sword and the rest of the things he had brought with him, and set out alone. Not long after, the innkeeper raised the cry that a man had been murdered, and, with some of the lodgers, overtook on the road the man who had gone out earlier. He seized the man, drew his sword from its sheath, and found it bloody. The man was led back to the city by them and became the accused. In this case the charge is: "You killed him." The rebuttal: "I did not kill him." From these the issue is the same as the point for decision: "Did he kill him?"

Now we shall set forth the topics, some part of which falls upon every conjectural controversy. But in setting forth these topics and the rest, it will be necessary to attend to this: that not all suit every cause. For just as every name is written from some, not from all, the letters, so not the whole abundance of arguments, but necessarily some part of them, will suit every cause. Every conjecture, then, is to be taken from the cause, from the person, and from the deed itself.

The cause is divided into impulse and reasoning. Impulse is that which urges one to do something without reflection, through some disposition of the mind, such as love, anger, distress, drunkenness, and in general all those things in which the mind seems to have been so disposed that it could not perceive the matter with deliberation and care, and did what it did rather by a kind of impulse of the mind than by reflection.

Reasoning, however, is the careful and considered devising of doing or not doing something. It is said to have been at work when the mind seems to have avoided or pursued something for a definite reason: if something is said to have been done for the sake of friendship, or of avenging an enemy, or out of fear, or for glory, or for money, or, finally—to embrace everything by kind—for the sake of retaining, increasing, or obtaining some advantage, or, on the contrary, of rejecting, diminishing, or avoiding some disadvantage. For under one or the other of these kinds will fall also those cases in which either some lesser disadvantage is undertaken for the sake of obtaining a greater advantage or avoiding a greater disadvantage, or some advantage is passed over for the sake of obtaining a greater advantage or avoiding a greater disadvantage.

This topic is, as it were, a kind of foundation of this issue. For it is proved to no one that anything was done, unless something is shown as the reason why it was done. Therefore the accuser, when he says that something was done by impulse, will have to amplify with words and reflections that impulse and a certain agitation and disposition of mind, and to show how great is the force of love, how great a disturbance of mind arises from anger or from some one of those causes by which he will say that someone, impelled, did the deed. Here, both by the mention of examples of those who under a like impulse have committed some deed, and by the comparison of similarities, and by the explanation of the very disposition of mind, care must be taken that it may not seem surprising if a mind moved by such a disturbance has gone forward to some crime.

But when he says that someone committed something not by impulse but by reasoning, he will demonstrate what advantage he pursued or what disadvantage he fled, and will magnify this as much as he can, so that, so far as may be, the cause that urged him to wrongdoing may seem as adequate as possible. If for the sake of glory, how great a glory he thought he would obtain; likewise if for the sake of dominion, of money, of friendship, of enmity, and in general whatever there is that he says was the cause, he will have to magnify it to the utmost.

And he will have to consider this carefully: not only what existed in truth, but even more emphatically what existed in the opinion of the one he accuses. For it matters nothing that some advantage or disadvantage did not or does not exist, if it can be shown that it seemed so to the one accused. For opinion deceives men in two ways, when either the matter is otherwise than it is thought, or the outcome is not what they supposed. The matter is otherwise when men either think that good which is evil, or, on the contrary, that evil which is good, or think that which is neither evil nor good to be evil or good, or that which is evil or good to be neither evil nor good.

With this understood, if anyone shall deny that any money is dearer or sweeter than the life of a brother or friend, or finally than duty, this the accuser will not have to deny. For the fault and the greatest hatred will be transferred to him who denies what is said so truly and dutifully. But this must be said, that it did not seem so to that man;

which must be taken from those things which pertain to the person, about which we must speak later. The outcome, again, deceives when it falls out otherwise than those who are accused are said to have supposed: as if someone is said to have killed another than he wished, because he was deceived either by a resemblance, or by suspicion, or by a false demonstration; or to have killed one by whose will he is not the heir, because he thought himself heir by that will. For one ought not to regard the design by the outcome, but to consider with what design and hope the mind set out to the crime; with what intent each man does anything, not what chance he meets with, is what pertains to the matter.

Now on this topic the chief point for the accuser will be if he can show that no one else had a cause for doing it; the secondary, if no one else had so great or so fitting a cause. But if it shall seem that others too had a cause for doing it, it must be demonstrated that others lacked either the power, or the means, or the will. The power, if they shall be said either not to have known, or not to have been present, or not to have been able to accomplish anything. The means, if it shall be demonstrated that the method, the helpers, the aids, and the rest which pertained to the matter were lacking to someone. The will, if the mind shall be said to have been free and clear of such deeds. Finally, the arguments which we shall give to the accused for his defence, the accuser will turn to use in clearing others of fault. But this must be done briefly, and many things must be drawn together into one, so that he may seem not to be accusing this man for the sake of defending another, but to be defending another for the sake of accusing this man.

And these, in general, are the things the accuser must consider. But the defender, on the contrary, will first say either that there was no impulse, or, if he shall grant that there was, will diminish it and demonstrate that it was some slight one, or will teach that such deeds are not wont to arise from it. On which topic it must be demonstrated what is the force and nature of that disposition by which the accused is said, impelled, to have committed something; in which both examples and similarities must be brought forward, and the very nature of that disposition must be carefully explained on its mildest and quietest side, so that both the matter itself may be drawn from a cruel and turbulent deed to something gentler and more tranquil, and the speech nevertheless may be adapted to the mind of him who hears, and to a certain inmost feeling of the mind.

But he will weaken the suspicions of reasoning if he shall say either that there was no advantage, or a small one, or one greater for others, or none greater for himself than for others, or a disadvantage greater for himself than the advantage, so that by no means was the magnitude of that advantage which is said to have been sought to be compared either with that disadvantage which would have followed, or with that danger which would be undergone;

all of which topics will be handled in like manner in the avoidance of a disadvantage too. But if the accuser shall say that he pursued what seemed to him an advantage, or fled what he thought a disadvantage, although he was in a false opinion, it must be demonstrated by the defender that no one is of such folly as to be able, in such a matter, to be ignorant of the truth. But if this be granted, that other point will not be granted: that he did not even hesitate as to what was the right in the matter, and approved as true, without any hesitation, what was false; because if he hesitated, it was the greatest madness, impelled by a doubtful hope, to commit himself to a certain danger.

But just as the accuser, when he removes the fault from others, will use the topics of the defender, so the accused will use those topics which are given to the accuser, when he wishes to transfer the charge from himself to others. From the person, again, conjecture will be drawn if those matters which are assigned to persons are carefully considered, all of which we set forth in the first book. For from the name too some suspicion sometimes arises—and when we say "name," the surname too ought to be understood; for it concerns the certain and proper designation of a man—as if we should say that someone is called "Caldus" (Hot) for the reason that he is of rash and sudden counsel;

or if for this reason he has cheated unwary Greeks, because he was called Clodius or Caecilius or Mucius. And from nature one may draw some suspicion. For all these things—whether one is man or woman, of this or that state, of what ancestors, what blood-relations, what age, what mind, what body—which are assigned to nature, will pertain to making some conjecture. And from manner of life many suspicions are drawn, when it is inquired how and among whom and by whom one was brought up and educated, and with whom one lives, by what plan of life,

by what domestic custom one lives. And from fortune an argument often arises, when it is considered whether one is slave or free, wealthy or poor, noble or ignoble, fortunate or unfortunate, a private person or in office, or has been, or will be; or, finally, when some one of those things is inquired into which are understood to be assigned to fortune. But since "condition" consists in some perfect and constant completeness of mind or body, in which kind are virtue, knowledge, and their contraries, the matter itself, once the case is set, will teach whether this topic too shows any suspicion. For the account of disposition is wont to carry with it a clear conjecture, such as love, anger, distress, for the reason that both their own force is understood and it is easy to recognize what consequence follows any of these.

But a pursuit, since it is a constant occupation vehemently applied to some matter with great pleasure, easily yields that argument which the matter itself will require in the cause. Likewise from purpose some suspicion will be taken; for a purpose is a deliberate plan of doing or not doing something. Now deeds and accidents and speeches, which are all, as was said in the precepts of confirmation, distributed into three tenses, it will be easy to see whether they bring anything to confirm the conjecture of suspicion.

And these are the matters assigned to persons, all of which, gathered into one place, the accuser will have to use to discredit the man. For the cause of the deed has too little firmness, unless the mind of him who is accused is brought into such a suspicion that he may not seem to have shrunk from such a fault. For just as it avails nothing to discredit someone's mind, when no cause why he should sin intervened, so it is a slight thing that a cause of sin intervened, if the mind is shown to be akin to no less honourable a course. Therefore the accuser will have to discredit the life of him whom he accuses from his former deeds, and to show whether he has been convicted of any like fault before; if he cannot do this, whether he has come under any similar suspicion before, and most of all, if it can be done, whether, in a similar kind of matter, moved by some cause of the same sort, he has sinned, whether in an equally great matter, or in a greater, or in a lesser; as if someone, whom he says was induced by money to do the deed, can demonstrate some greedy act of his in some other matter.

Likewise in every cause the accuser ought to join to that cause by which he says one was moved to sin the nature, or the manner of life, or the pursuit, or the fortune, or some one of those things which are assigned to persons; and from a different kind of faults too, if there shall be no opportunity of taking from a like kind, he ought to discredit the mind of the adversary: if you charge that he did it induced by avarice, and you cannot demonstrate that the one you accuse is avaricious, you may teach that he is akin to other vices, and that from this it is not to be wondered at that one who in that matter was base, or covetous, or wanton, has gone astray in this matter too. For as much as is taken away from the honour and authority of him who is accused, just so much is diminished from the resources of the whole defence.

If the accused cannot be demonstrated to be akin to any vice committed before, that topic will be introduced through which the judges must be exhorted to think the man's old reputation has nothing to do with the matter. For he concealed himself before, now he is manifestly caught; therefore this matter ought not to be judged by his former life, but his former life ought to be discredited by this matter; and either there was no power of sinning before, or no cause; or, if these things cannot be said, that last thing must be said—it is not surprising if he has now offended for the first time; for it must be that he who wishes to sin offends at some point for the first time. But if the life formerly led shall be unknown, with this topic passed over and the reason for passing it over demonstrated, the accusation must be confirmed at once with arguments.

The defender, however, first, if he can, ought to demonstrate the life of him who is accused to be as honourable as possible. He will do this if he shall set forth some marked and ordinary services of his; of which kind are those toward parents, kinsmen, friends, connections, intimates; also those which are rarer and more exceptional, if he shall say that something was done by him with great labour or danger, or both, when there was no necessity, for duty's sake, either toward the commonwealth, or toward his parents, or toward some of those just set forth; finally, if he has offended in nothing, has withdrawn from no duty hindered by any desire. Which will be the more confirmed if, when it shall be said that there was the power of doing something less honourable with impunity, it shall be demonstrated that the will to do it was absent.

But this very kind will be the firmer if, in that very kind in which he is accused, he shall be demonstrated to have been blameless before: as if, when he is accused of having acted for avarice's sake, he be taught to have been least of all covetous of money in his whole life. Here that indignation will be introduced with great gravity, joined to an appeal to pity, through which it will be demonstrated to be a wretched and unworthy thing that, when the mind was in its whole life most remote from vices, one should think that that cause which is wont to drag bold men into wrong could have impelled even the most chaste man to sin; or that it is unfair and most ruinous to every best man that a life honourably led should not avail as much as possible at such a time, but that judgment should be made from a sudden charge, which can be fabricated however falsely, not from the life formerly led, which can neither be feigned to suit the moment nor in any way changed.

But if in the life formerly led there shall be some baseness, either it shall be said that he came falsely into that ill repute, from the envy or detraction or false opinion of some persons; or these things shall be attributed to imprudence, necessity, persuasion, youth, or some not malicious disposition of mind; or to a different kind of vices . . . , so that the mind may seem not wholly blameless, but remote from such a fault. But if in no way can the baseness or infamy of his life be softened by speech, it will be necessary to deny that the inquiry is about his life and morals, but about that charge on which he is accused; therefore, with his former deeds passed over, the matter which presses ought to be treated.

From the deed itself, again, suspicions will be drawn if the conduct of the whole affair is tried out in all its parts; and these suspicions will proceed partly from the affair separately, partly in common from the persons and the affair. They can be drawn from the affair if we carefully consider those matters which are assigned to affairs. From these, then, all the kinds of them seem to suit this issue, and most of the parts of the kinds.

First, then, it will be necessary to see what things are connected with the affair itself, that is, what cannot be separated from the matter. On this topic it will be enough to have carefully considered what was done before the matter, from which the hope of accomplishing seems to have arisen and the means of doing it to have been sought; what was done in the very performance of the matter; what followed afterwards. Then the conduct of the affair itself must be handled thoroughly. For this kind of those matters which are assigned to the affair was set forth by us in the second place.

In this kind, therefore, will be observed place, time, occasion, means; the force of each one of which was carefully explained in the precepts of confirmation. Therefore, lest we either seem not to have given warning here, or to have said the same things again, we shall briefly suggest what ought to be considered in each part. In place, then, the opportunity; in time, the length; in occasion, the convenience suitable for doing; in means, the abundance and the power of those things on account of which something is done more easily, or without which it cannot be accomplished at all—these must be considered.

Then it must be seen what is an adjunct of the affair, that is, what is greater, what less, what equally great, what similar; from which a certain conjecture is drawn, if it shall be carefully considered in what way greater, lesser, equally great, and similar matters are wont to be done. In this kind the result too must be seen, that is, what is wont to come of each thing must be greatly considered, such as fear, joy, faltering, audacity.

The fourth part of those matters which we said were assigned to affairs was the consequence. In it are inquired those things which follow the deed done, at once or after an interval. In this we shall see whether there is any custom, any law, any agreement, any art or use or practice of the matter, any approval or disapproval of men; from which sometimes some suspicion is elicited. But there are other suspicions which are taken in common from the attributes both of affairs and of persons. For both from fortune and from nature and from manner of life, pursuit, deeds, accident, speeches, purpose, and from the condition of mind or body, most things pertain to those same matters which can make a thing credible or incredible,

and are joined with the suspicion of the deed. For most of all it is fitting to inquire, in this issue, first whether anything could have been done; then whether it could have been done by anyone else; then the means, of which we spoke before; then whether it is the kind of deed which one would necessarily have repented, which had no hope of concealment; then the necessity, in which it is inquired whether it was necessary either for it to be done, or to be done thus. Part of these pertain to purpose, which is assigned to persons, as in that case which we set forth: before the matter—that he attached himself so companionably on the journey, that he sought an occasion for conversation, that he turned aside together, and then dined. In the matter—night, sleep. After the matter—that he went out alone, that he left so companionable a man so calmly, that he had a bloody sword.

Again, whether a method of doing seems to have been carefully held and devised, or so rashly that it is not probable that anyone went forward to a crime so rashly. In which it is inquired whether it could have been done more conveniently in some other way, or managed by chance. For often, if money, aids, helpers are lacking, the means of doing does not seem to have existed. In this way, if we attend carefully, we understand that these things which are assigned to affairs, and those which are assigned to persons, are fitted to one another. Here it is neither easy nor necessary, as in the earlier parts, to distinguish in what way each ought to handle the matter as accuser and in what way as defender. It is not necessary, for the reason that, the case being set, the matter itself will teach what suits each, for those who will not think they are going to find everything here,

if only they shall bring a certain moderate intelligence to the common task; and it is not easy, because it is both endless to explain so many matters one by one, for each part, in both directions, and these things are wont to suit each side of the cause now in one way, now in another. Therefore it will be fitting to consider these things which we have set forth. But the mind will more easily light upon invention if it shall handle often and carefully both its own narrative and the adversary's of the deed done, and, eliciting whatever suspicion each part holds, shall consider with what purpose, with what hope of accomplishing, each thing was done; why in this way rather than that; why by this man rather than that; why with no helper, or why with this one; why no one was privy, or why someone was, or why this one; why this was done before; why this in the affair itself, why this after the affair; whether it was done deliberately, or followed the matter itself; whether the speech is consistent either with the matter or with itself; whether this is a sign of this matter or of that, or of both, and rather of which; what was done which ought not to have been, or not done which ought to have been.

When the mind shall consider all the parts of the whole affair with this attention, then those very topics gathered into one place will come forward, of which we have spoken before; and then, now from single, now from joined topics, sure arguments will arise, part of which arguments will turn on the probable, part on the necessary kind. But often there are added to conjecture interrogations, testimonies, rumours, all of which each side will have to twist to the advantage of his own cause by a similar method of precepts. For both from interrogation and from testimony and from some rumour, suspicions ought to be drawn by a like method, as from the cause, from the person, and from the deed.

Therefore those too seem to us to err who think this kind of suspicion needs no art, and those who think instruction ought to be given about this kind otherwise than about all conjecture. For every conjecture must be taken from the same topics. For both the motive and the truth of him who said something in interrogation, and of him who said something in testimony, and of rumour itself, will be found from the same attributes. But in every cause part of the arguments is attached only to that cause which is being pleaded, and so drawn from it that it cannot conveniently enough be transferred separately from it into all causes of the same kind; but part is more widely ranging and adapted either to all causes of the same kind or to most.

These arguments, then, which can be transferred to many causes, we name commonplaces. For a commonplace contains either some amplification of a certain matter—as if someone should wish to show that he who has killed a parent is worthy of the greatest punishment; which topic must not be used unless the cause has been pleaded out—or of a doubtful matter, which from the contrary side too has probable methods of arguing, as that one ought to believe suspicions, and, on the contrary, that one ought not to believe suspicions. And part of the commonplaces is introduced through indignation or through appeal to pity, of which we have spoken before, part through some probable method on either side.

But the speech is distinguished and illuminated most of all by introducing commonplaces rarely, and at some point already confirmed by those surer arguments. For then it is permitted to say something in common, when some topic proper to the cause has been carefully handled, and the mind of the hearer is either renewed for what remains, or, all having now been said, is roused. But all the ornaments of expression, in which both sweetness and gravity chiefly consist, and all those things which in the invention of matters and thoughts have some dignity, are conferred upon commonplaces.

Therefore, just as causes have their commonplaces, so do many orators too. For they cannot be handled ornately and weightily, as their nature requires, except by those who, by much practice, have prepared for themselves a great abundance of words and thoughts. And let this be said by us in common about every kind of commonplace; now we shall set forth what commonplaces are wont to fall upon the conjectural issue: that one ought to believe suspicions and ought not; that one ought to believe rumours and ought not; that one ought to believe witnesses and ought not; that one ought to believe interrogations and ought not; that the life formerly led ought to be regarded and ought not; that it belongs to the same man who sinned in that matter to have committed this too, and that it does not belong to the same; that the cause ought most of all to be regarded and ought not. And these, and any commonplaces of this kind which arise from a proper argument,

are divided into opposite sides. But there is a definite topic of the accuser, through which he magnifies the atrocity of the deed, and another, through which he denies that one ought to pity the wicked; of the defender, through which the calumny of the accusers is shown with indignation, and through which pity is captured with appeal. These, and all the other commonplaces, are taken from the same precepts as the other arguments; but those are handled more finely, more subtly, and more keenly, while these are handled more weightily and more ornately, with both excellent words and excellent thoughts. For in those the end is that what is said may seem true; in these, although this too ought to appear, nevertheless the end is grandeur. Now let us pass to another issue.

When there is a controversy of name, because the meaning of the term must be defined in words, the issue is called definitional. Let this case be set before us as an example of this kind: Gaius Flaminius—he who as consul mismanaged affairs in the Second Punic War—when he was tribune of the people, against the will of the senate and altogether contrary to the wishes of all the aristocrats, was bringing an agrarian law before the people through sedition. His own father led him down from the platform while he was holding an assembly of the people; he is arraigned for treason. The charge is: "You diminished the majesty of the state, because you led down a tribune of the people from the platform." The rebuttal is: "I did not diminish the majesty." The question is: "Did he diminish the majesty?" The reason: "For I used that power over my son which I had." The invalidation of the reason: "But he who weakens the tribunician power—that is, the power of the people—by paternal power—that is, a kind of private power—diminishes the majesty." The point for decision is: "Does he diminish the majesty who uses paternal power against the tribunician power?" To this point for decision all the arguments will have to be brought.

And lest anyone perhaps suppose that we do not understand that another issue too falls upon this case, we take only that part on which precepts must be given by us. But with all the parts explained in this book, anyone, in every cause, if he shall attend carefully, will see all the issues and their parts and the controversies, if any perhaps fall upon them; for we shall prescribe about all. The first topic of the accuser, then, is a brief and clear definition, drawn from the opinion of men, of that name about whose meaning the inquiry is, in this manner: "To diminish the majesty is to detract something from the dignity, or grandeur, or power of the people, or of those to whom the people has given power." This, so briefly set forth, must be confirmed with more words and reasons, and it must be shown that it is as you have described. Afterwards it will be necessary to join to what you have defined the deed of him who is accused, and from what you have shown to be, for instance, "to diminish the majesty," to teach that the adversary has diminished the majesty, and to confirm this whole topic with a commonplace, through which the atrocity or unworthiness of the very deed, or its guilt altogether, is magnified with indignation.

Afterwards the adversaries' description must be weakened. And it will be weakened if it is demonstrated to be false. This will be taken from the opinion of men, when it is considered in what way and in what matters men are wont, in the custom of writing or speaking, to use that word. Likewise it will be weakened if it is shown that the approval of that description is base or useless, and what disadvantages will follow if it is granted—this, again, will be taken from the elements of honour and of usefulness, of which we shall speak in the precepts of deliberation—and if we compare the adversaries' definition with our own, and demonstrate ours to be true, honourable, useful, theirs the contrary.

But we shall seek similar matters, in a greater or lesser or equal affair, from which our description may be affirmed. Now if several matters shall have to be defined—as if it be inquired whether one is a thief or a temple-robber who has stolen sacred vessels from a private place—several definitions must be used; then the cause must be handled by a like method. But the commonplace is against the wickedness of him who has tried to arrogate to himself the power not only over things but even over words, and both does what he wishes and calls what he has done by whatever name he wishes. Then the first topic of the defender is likewise a brief and clear description of the name, drawn from the opinion of men, in this manner: "To diminish the majesty is to administer something of public affairs when you do not have the power." Then a confirmation of this; afterwards a separation of his own deed from that definition.

Then the commonplace through which the usefulness or honour of the deed is increased. Then follows the refutation of the adversaries' definition, which is accomplished from all those same topics which we prescribed to the accuser; and the rest will afterwards be introduced in the same way, except the commonplace. But the defender's commonplace will be that through which he expresses indignation that the accuser, for the sake of his own peril, tries not only to alter things but even to change words. For those commonplaces indeed which are taken for the sake of demonstrating the calumny of the accusers, or of capturing pity, or of expressing indignation at a deed, or of deterring from pity, are drawn from the magnitude of the peril, not from the kind of cause. Therefore they fall not upon every cause, but upon every kind of cause. We made mention of them in the conjectural issue, and we shall use them by introduction when the cause shall require.

But when the action seems to need transfer or change, because either he who ought is not bringing it, or not against the man against whom he ought, or not before those before whom, or under the law under which, with the penalty with which, on the charge on which, at the time at which he ought, the issue is called translative. We should need very many examples of it if we were to seek out the several kinds of transfers; but because the method of the precepts is similar, we must dispense with a multitude of examples. And in our own practice it happens, for many reasons, that transfers fall out rather rarely. For many actions are excluded by the praetor's exceptions, and we have the civil law so established that he loses his case who has not brought it in the way he ought.

Therefore they are mostly engaged in at law. For there both exceptions are demanded, and the power of bringing an action is given, and the whole framing of private suits is established. But in the trials themselves they fall out more rarely; and yet, if at any time they do fall out, they are of such a kind that of themselves they have less firmness, but are confirmed by taking up some other issue: as in a certain trial, when the name of a certain poisoning had been laid, and, because the charge of parricide had been entered, the case had been received out of the ordinary course, but in the accusation certain other charges were confirmed by witnesses and arguments, while mention of parricide alone had been made, the defender ought to dwell much and long on this very point: that, since nothing had been demonstrated about the slaying of a parent, it was an unworthy thing to afflict the accused with that penalty with which parricides are afflicted; but that this, if he were condemned, must necessarily be done, since both this had been entered in the case and on that account the name had been received out of the ordinary course.

If, therefore, the accused ought not to be afflicted with that penalty, neither ought he to be condemned, since that penalty necessarily follows condemnation. Here the defender, by introducing a change of penalty from the translative kind, will weaken the whole accusation. Nevertheless, in defending the other charges too, he will confirm the transfer by the conjectural issue. But let an example of transfer set in a case be of this kind: when certain men had come armed to do violence, certain others stood ready against them armed, and one of the armed men cut off with his sword the hand of a certain Roman knight who was resisting. He whose hand was cut off brings an action for assault. He against whom the action is brought demands from the praetor an exception: "except in so far as a prejudgment may be made against the defendant in a capital matter."

Here he who brings the action demands a plain trial; the other, against whom the action is brought, says an exception ought to be added. The question is: "Is the exception to be made or not?" The reason: "For a prejudgment ought not to be made, in a suit for recovery, of that crime about which inquiry is held among the assassins." The invalidation of the reason: "Such are the assaults that it is unworthy not to be judged on them at the very first opportunity." The point for decision: "Is the atrocity of the assaults a sufficient cause why, while it is being judged, a prejudgment should be made about some greater crime for which a trial has been arranged?" And this indeed is the example. But in every cause it will be necessary for each side to inquire by whom, and through whom, and in what way, and at what time it is fitting either to bring or to judge the action, or to settle anything about that matter.

This will have to be taken from the parts of law, about which we must speak later, and one must reason what is wont to be done in similar matters, and see whether out of malice one thing is being done and another pretended, or out of folly, or out of necessity, because one cannot proceed otherwise, or whether by an opportunity for proceeding the trial or the action has been so framed, or whether the matter is rightly conducted without any such thing. But the commonplace against him who introduces a transfer is: that he flees the trial and the penalty because he distrusts his case. And from the transfer itself: that there will be confusion of everything if matters are not conducted and brought to trial in the way they ought; that is, if either an action is brought against one against whom it ought not, or with another penalty, on another charge, at another time; and that this principle pertains to the confusion of all trials. These three issues, then, which have no parts, will be handled in this manner. Now let us consider the general issue and its parts.

When, both the deed and the name of the deed being granted, and no controversy of action being raised, the force and nature and kind of the affair itself is inquired into, we call it the general issue. We have said that its first parts seem to us to be two, the negotial and the juridical. The negotial is that which has, in the affair itself, an implicit controversy of the civil law. It is of this kind: a certain man made a ward his heir; but the ward died before he came into the management of his own affairs. About the inheritance which came to the ward there is a controversy between those who are the secondary heirs of the ward's father and the kinsmen of the ward. The possession is the secondary heirs'. The charge of the kinsmen is: "It is our money, about which he, whose kinsmen we are, did not make a will." The rebuttal is: "Nay, it is ours, who are heirs by the father's will." The question is: "To which side does it belong?" The reason: "For the father wrote a will both for himself and for his son, while the latter was a ward. Therefore the things which were the son's must, by the father's will, become ours." The invalidation of the reason: "Nay, the father wrote for himself, and ordered the secondary heir to be his own heir, not his son's. Therefore, apart from what was his own, it cannot, by his will, be yours." The point for decision: "Can anyone make a will about a ward son's property? Or are the secondary heirs the heirs of the head of the household himself, and not also of his ward son?"

And it is not amiss to give warning here of this, which pertains to many things, lest it be said either nowhere or everywhere. There are causes which have several reasons in a simple issue; which happens when that which was done, or which is defended, can seem right or probable for several reasons, as in this very case. For let this reason be assumed by the heirs: "For there cannot be several heirs of one piece of property for dissimilar reasons, nor has it ever happened that of the same property one was heir by will, another by law."

The invalidation will be this: "It is not one piece of property, for the reason that the one was already the ward's, acquired anew, of which no one was written heir in that will, in case anything should befall the ward; and about the other the will of the father, even now dead, was of the greatest force, which, the ward now being dead, granted it to his own heirs." The point for decision is: "Was it one piece of property?" Or, if they shall have used this invalidation—that there can be several heirs of one piece of property for dissimilar reasons, and that the controversy is about that very thing—the point for decision arises: "Can there be several heirs of the same property by dissimilar kinds?" Therefore in one issue it has been understood how both reasons and invalidations of reasons, and on that account several points for decision, arise.

Now let us see the precepts of this kind. Both sides, or even all sides, if more than two contend, must consider from what things law is composed. Its beginning, then, seems to be drawn from nature; then some things came into custom from a consideration of usefulness, either clear to us or obscure; afterwards some things, approved by custom or indeed seen to be useful, were sanctioned by laws. And that is the law of nature which not opinion, but a certain innate force, brings to us, such as religion, dutiful affection, gratitude, requital, observance, truth.

They call "religion" that which is in fear and ceremony of the gods; "dutiful affection," that which counsels us to preserve a kindly duty toward our country, or our parents, or others joined by blood; "gratitude," that which holds the observance of memory and requital of services, and of honour, and of friendships; "requital," through which by defending or avenging we drive off violence and insult from ourselves and from ours who ought to be dear to us, and through which we punish offences; "observance," through which we revere and honour those who excel in age, or wisdom, or honour, or some dignity; "truth," through which we take care that nothing be, or have been, or be about to be otherwise than we have affirmed.

And the rights of nature indeed are less inquired into for this controversy, because they are not engaged with this civil law and are rather remote from common understanding; but for some resemblance, or to amplify a matter, they are often to be introduced. But that is thought to be law by custom which the will of all, without a law, has approved through long usage. And in it some rights are already established on account of their antiquity. In which kind there are many other things, and much the greatest part of them is what the praetors have been accustomed to proclaim. And some kinds of law have already been made established by custom;

of which kind are agreement, fairness, the adjudged. An agreement is what is settled between parties, and is thought so just that it is said to hold good by law; the fair is what is equitable toward all; the adjudged is that about which the opinion of someone or of several has already been established before. Now the rights established by statute must be learned from the laws. From these parts of law, then, whatever shall seem to arise for each side, either from the matter itself, or from a like, or from a greater or lesser, it will be necessary to attend to and to elicit by trying out each several part of law. But since, as was said before, there are two kinds of commonplaces, of which one contains the amplification of a doubtful matter, the other of a certain matter, it will be considered what the cause itself gives, and what can and ought to be amplified through a commonplace. For

fixed topics, which fall upon all cases, cannot be prescribed; in most cases perhaps one will have to speak from the authority of the jurists and against their authority. But attention must be paid, both in this and in all cases, whether the matter itself shows any commonplaces besides those which we set forth. Now let us consider the juridical kind and its parts. The juridical is that in which the nature of the fair and the unfair, and the principle of reward or punishment, is inquired into. Its parts are two, of which we name the one absolute, the other assumptive. The absolute is that which contains in itself, not implicitly and hidden, as the negotial, but more openly and readily, the question of right and not-right. It is of this kind: when the Thebans had overcome the Spartans in war, and it was generally the custom of the Greeks, when they had waged war among themselves, that those who had conquered should set up some trophy in the territory, only for the sake of declaring the victory at the present moment, not that the memory of the war should remain forever, the Thebans set up a bronze trophy. They are accused before the Amphictyons. The charge is:

"It was not fitting." The rebuttal is: "It was fitting." The question is: "Was it fitting?" The reason is: "For we won by valour such glory from the war that we wished to leave eternal tokens of it to our descendants." The invalidation is: "But nevertheless it is not fitting that Greeks should set up against Greeks an eternal monument of enmities." The point for decision is: "When the Greeks, for the sake of celebrating the highest valour, set up against Greeks an eternal monument of enmities, did they act rightly or the contrary?" We have subjoined this reason in order that the very kind of cause we are treating might be recognized. For if we had subjoined that which perhaps they used—"You waged the war neither justly nor dutifully"—we should slip into the retort of the charge, of which we shall speak later. But it is clear that both kinds of cause fall upon this case. For it the arguments must be taken from the same topics as in the negotial cause, of which we spoke before.

But it will be permitted and fitting to take commonplaces, both from the cause itself, if there shall be any matter of indignation or appeal to pity in it, and from the usefulness and nature of law—many and weighty ones—if the dignity of the cause shall seem to demand it. Now let us consider the assumptive part of the juridical. The assumptive, then, is said to be that when the deed itself cannot be approved of itself, but is defended by some argument joined from outside. Its parts are four: comparison, retort of the charge, shifting of the charge, and confession.

Comparison is when something done, which of itself is not to be approved, is defended from that for the sake of which it was done. It is of this kind: a certain general, when he was being besieged by the enemy and could in no way escape, made a bargain with them that he should leave his arms and baggage and lead out his soldiers; and so he did. With his arms and baggage lost, he saved his soldiers beyond hope.

He is accused of treason. A definition runs in here. But let us consider this topic which we are treating. The charge is: "It was not fitting to leave the arms and baggage." The rebuttal is: "It was fitting." The question is: "Was it fitting?" The reason is: "For all the soldiers would have perished." The invalidation is either conjectural: "They would not have perished"; or another conjectural: "You did not do it for that purpose"; or this comparative, which we now need: "But it was better to lose the soldiers than to give up the arms and baggage to the enemy." From which the point for decision arises: "Since all the soldiers were going to perish, unless they had come to this bargain, was it better to lose the soldiers, or to come to this condition?"

This kind of cause will have to be handled from its own topics, and the method and precepts of the other issues too must be applied; and most of all, by making conjectures, to weaken that which those who are accused will compare with what is charged against them. This will be done if either it shall be denied that what the defenders say would have happened, unless the deed about which there is a trial had been done, would have happened; or it shall be demonstrated that it was done by another method and for another cause than the accused says he did it. The confirmation of this matter, and likewise the invalidation from the contrary side, will be taken from the conjectural issue. But if he shall be called into court under a definite name of crime—as in this case, for he is arraigned for treason—it will be necessary to use definition and the precepts of definition. And these things indeed mostly happen in this kind, that both conjecture and definition must be used. But if some other kind too shall fall in, it will be permitted to transfer the precepts of that kind hither by a like method. For the accuser must labour most of all at this: to weaken with as many reasons as possible the very deed on account of which the accused thinks he ought to be granted indulgence.

Which is easy, if he shall attack it with as many issues as possible to disprove it. But comparison itself, separated from the other kinds of controversies, will be considered thus from its own force: if it shall be demonstrated that what is compared was either not honourable, or not useful, or not necessary, or not so greatly useful, or not so greatly honourable, or not so greatly necessary. Then the accuser ought to separate that which he himself charges from that which the defender compares. And he will do this if he shall demonstrate that it is not wont so to be done, nor ought to be, nor is there any reason why this should be done for the sake of that—that, for the sake of the safety of the soldiers, those things which were provided for the sake of safety should be handed over to the enemy. Afterwards it is fitting to compare the crime with the benefit, and altogether to contend that which is charged with that which is praised as done by the defender, or demonstrated as having needed to be done, and, by belittling this, at the same time to magnify the greatness of the crime. This will be possible if it shall be demonstrated that what the accused avoided was more honourable, more useful, more necessary than what he did.

But the force and nature of the honourable, the useful, and the necessary will be learned in the precepts of deliberation. Then it will be necessary to set forth that very comparative point for decision as though it were a deliberative cause, and to speak about it from the precepts of deliberation. For let this be the point for decision which we set forth before: "Since all the soldiers were going to perish unless they had come to this bargain, was it better that the soldiers should perish, or to come to this bargain?" This must be handled from the topics of deliberation, as though the matter came into some consultation. But the defender, on those topics on which other issues shall be introduced by the accuser, will himself too prepare his defence from those same issues; but all the other topics which pertain to the comparison itself he will handle from the contrary side.

The commonplaces will be: of the accuser, against him who, when he confesses some deed base or useless or both, nevertheless seeks some defence; of the defender, that no deed ought to be thought useless or base, nor likewise useful or honourable, unless it be understood with what intent, at what time, for what cause it was done; which topic is so common that, well handled, it will be of great moment for persuasion in this case; and the second topic, through which, with great amplification, the greatness of the benefit is demonstrated from its usefulness or honour or the necessity of the deed;

and the third, through which the matter, expressed in words, is set before the eyes of those who hear, so that they may think that they too would have done the same, if that matter and that cause of doing it had befallen them at the same time. The retort of the charge is when the accused, having confessed what is charged, demonstrates that he did it lawfully, induced by another's offence. It is of this kind: Horatius, when the three Curiatii had been killed and two of his brothers lost, betook himself home as victor. He noticed his sister not grieving for the death of her brothers, but repeatedly calling, with groaning and lamentation, on the name of her betrothed, one of the Curiatii.

Indignant, he killed the maiden. He is accused. The charge is: "You killed your sister wrongfully." The rebuttal is: "I killed her lawfully." The question is: "Did he kill her lawfully?" The reason is: "For she was mourning the death of the enemy, neglecting that of her brothers; she took it ill that I and the Roman people had conquered." The invalidation is: "Nevertheless she ought not to have been slain by her brother uncondemned." From which the point for decision is made: "Since Horatia neglected the death of her brothers, mourned that of the enemy, did not rejoice at the victory of her brother and of the Roman people, ought she to have been slain by her brother uncondemned?" In this kind of cause first, if anything shall be supplied from the other issues, it will be necessary to take it, as was prescribed in comparison; afterwards, if there shall be any opportunity,

to defend, through some issue, the man onto whom the charge is transferred; then, that what the accused transfers onto another's offence is lighter than what he himself undertook; afterwards to use the parts of transfer, and to show by whom, and through whom, and in what way, and at what time it was fitting either to bring or to judge or to settle about that matter; and at the same time to show that punishment ought not to have been interposed before trial. Then the laws too and the courts must be demonstrated, through which that offence which the accused punished of his own accord could have been avenged by custom and by trial. Then he must deny that one ought to listen to that which is brought as a charge against the man about whom he himself who brings it was unwilling that a trial should be held,

and that what has not been judged ought to be held as not done; afterwards to demonstrate the shamelessness of those who now accuse before judges the man whom they themselves have condemned without judges, and pass judgment about him on whom they themselves have already taken punishment; afterwards, that there will be a confusion of the trial, and the judges will advance further than they have power to, if they shall judge at the same time both about the accused and about him whom the accused charges; then, if this be established—that men should avenge offences with offences and wrongs with wrongs—how many disadvantages would follow; and that, if he who now accuses had himself wished to do the same, there would have been no need even of this very trial;

but if the others too should do the same, there would be no trial at all. Afterwards it will be demonstrated that, not even if she onto whom the charge is transferred by the accused had been condemned by trial, could this very man have taken punishment of her; therefore that it is unworthy that he who could not himself have taken punishment even of one condemned has taken punishment of one who was not even brought to trial. Then he will demand that the accused bring forward the law by which he acted. Then, just as in comparison we prescribed that what was compared should be belittled by the accuser as much as possible, so in this kind it will be fitting to compare the fault of him onto whom the charge is transferred with the crime of this man who says he acted lawfully. Afterwards it must be demonstrated that it was not of such a kind that on account of it this ought to have been done. The last thing, as in comparison, is the assumption of the point for decision, and a statement about it by amplification, from the precepts of deliberation.

The defender, however, will weaken those things which are introduced through the other issues from those topics which have been handed down; but he will confirm the retort itself, first by magnifying the fault and audacity of him onto whom he retorts the charge, and as much as possible, through indignation, if the matter allows, setting it before the eyes joined with an appeal to pity; afterwards by demonstrating that he punished more lightly than was that man's desert, and by comparing his own punishment with that man's wrong. Then it will be necessary to weaken with contrary reasons those topics which shall have been so handled by the accuser that they can be refuted and turned to the contrary side, of which kind are the three last.

But that keenest charge of the accusers, through which they demonstrate that there will be a confusion of all trials if the power of taking punishment of an uncondemned person be given, will be lightened: first, if the wrong shall be demonstrated to be of such a kind that it seems to have been intolerable not only to a good man but to a free man at all; then so manifest that it was not called into doubt even by him who did it; then of such a kind that he most of all ought to have punished it who did punish it; so that it was not so right, not so honourable, for that matter to come into court, as for it to be avenged in the way and by the man by whom it was avenged;

afterwards that the matter was so plain that it was of no use for a trial to be held about it. And here it must be demonstrated, by reasons and similar matters, that very many things are so atrocious and plain that about them it is not only not necessary but not even useful to wait until a trial is held. The commonplace of the accuser is against him who, when he cannot deny what is charged, nevertheless prepares for himself some hope from the confusion of the courts. And here a demonstration of the usefulness of the courts, and an appeal to pity for him who suffered punishment uncondemned;

but against the audacity and cruelty of him who took it, indignation. From the defender, against the audacity of him on whom he took vengeance, with an appeal to pity for himself; that the matter ought to be considered not from the name of the affair itself, but from the purpose of him who did it, and the cause, and the time; what evil would come about either from the wrong or the crime of someone, unless so great and so manifest an audacity were avenged by him to whose reputation, or parents, or children, or to some matter which must or ought to be dear to all, it pertained. The shifting of the charge is when the charge of a deed, which is brought by the adversary, is removed onto another person or onto another thing.

This is done in two ways; for sometimes the cause, sometimes the thing itself is removed. Let this be an example of the removal of the cause: the Rhodians sent certain envoys to Athens. The quaestors did not give the envoys the expense which ought to have been given. The envoys did not set out. They are accused. The charge is: "You ought to have set out." The rebuttal is: "We ought not." The question is: "Ought they?" The reason is: "For the expense which is wont to be given from public funds was not given by the quaestor." The invalidation is: "Nevertheless you ought to have accomplished the business which had been given you publicly." The point for decision is: "When the expense which was owed from public funds was not given to those who were envoys, ought they nevertheless to have accomplished the embassy?" In this kind first, as in the rest, if anything can be taken either from the conjectural or from another issue, it will be necessary to see. Then most things, both from comparison and from the retort of the charge, will be able to suit this cause too.

The accuser, however, will first defend, if he can, the man by whose fault the accused will say the thing was done; but if he cannot, he will deny that the fault of that man pertains to this trial, but the fault of this man whom he himself accuses. Afterwards he will say that each ought to look to his own duty; nor, if that man had sinned, ought this one to have sinned; then, if that man offended, that man ought to be accused separately, just as this one, and the accusation of that man ought not to be joined with the defence of this. But the defender, when he shall have handled the rest, if any fall in from other issues, will argue thus about the removal itself:

first, he will demonstrate by whose fault it happened; then, since it happened by another's fault, he will show that he either could not or ought not to have done what the accuser says he ought to have done. What he could do will be considered from the elements of usefulness, in which the force of necessity is involved; what he ought to have done, from honour. About both it will be spoken more distinctly in the deliberative kind. Then, that everything was done by the accused which was in his own power;

that what was done less than was fitting happened by another's fault. Then, the other's fault having been set forth, it must be demonstrated how much will and zeal there was in himself, and this must be confirmed by signs of this kind: from his other diligence, from his former deeds or words; and that it was useful to him to do this, useless not to do it, and that this was more consonant with the rest of his life than that he should not have done it on account of another's fault. But if the cause shall be removed not onto a definite person but onto some thing—as in this same matter, if the quaestor had died and for that reason the money had not been given to the envoys—with the accusation of another and the shifting of fault removed, it will be necessary to use the other topics in like manner, and to take up from the parts of confession those which shall suit; of which we must speak.

But the commonplaces will be nearly the same for both as those which fall upon the earlier assumptive parts; these, however, most surely: of the accuser, indignation at the deed; of the defender, that, since the fault is in another and not in himself, he ought not to be afflicted with punishment. But the removal of the thing itself takes place when the accused denies that what is charged pertained either to himself or to his duty; and that, if any offence was committed in it, it ought not to be attributed to him. This kind of cause is of this sort: in that treaty which was once made with the Samnites, a certain young nobleman held the pig at the general's order. But the treaty being disapproved by the senate and the general handed over to the Samnites, a certain man in the senate says that he too who held the pig ought to be handed over.

The charge is: "He ought to be handed over." The rebuttal is: "He ought not." The question is: "Ought he?" The reason is: "For it was not my duty nor in my power, since I was both of that age and a private person, and there was a general of the highest authority and power, whose business it was to see that a sufficiently honourable treaty was struck." The invalidation is: "But since you became a sharer, in a most disgraceful treaty, of the highest religious obligation, it is fitting that you be handed over." The point for decision is: "When one who had no power took part, at the general's order, in a treaty and in so great a religious obligation, is he to be handed over to the enemy or not?" This kind of cause differs from the earlier one in this: that in that the accused grants that he ought to have done what the accuser says ought to have been done, but attributes the cause to some thing or man which was a hindrance to his will, without the parts of confession; for of these there is a certain greater force, which will be understood a little later.

But in this he ought neither to accuse another nor to transfer the fault onto another, but to demonstrate that the matter pertained nothing to himself, nor to his power, nor to his duty, nor does pertain. And in this kind this novelty occurs, that the accuser too often makes his charge from removal, as if someone should accuse a man who, when he was praetor, called the people to arms for an expedition, when there were consuls. For just as in the earlier example the accused removed the deed from his own duty and power, so in this the accuser himself, by removing the deed from the duty and power of him who is accused, by this very method confirms the accusation. In this it will be necessary for each side to inquire, from all the elements of honour and all the elements of usefulness, by examples, by signs, by reasoning, what is each man's duty, right, power, and whether to him about whom the matter is at issue that right, duty, power was attributed or not. But the commonplaces will have to be taken from the matter itself, if it shall have any matter of indignation or appeal to pity. Confession is that through which the deed itself is not approved by the accused, but it is asked that he be pardoned. Its parts are two: purgation and entreaty.

Purgation is that through which not the deed itself of him who is accused, but his intention, is defended. It has three parts: imprudence, accident, necessity.

Imprudence is when it is denied that the one accused knew something; as among certain people there was a law: "Let no one sacrifice a calf to Diana." Certain sailors, when they were being tossed in the deep by an adverse storm, vowed that, if they reached that harbour which they saw, they would sacrifice a calf to the god who was there. By chance there was in that harbour a shrine of that Diana to whom it was not lawful to sacrifice a calf. Unaware of the law, when they had landed, they sacrificed a calf. They are accused. The charge is: "You sacrificed a calf to the god to whom it was not lawful." The rebuttal lies in confession. The reason is: "I did not know it was not lawful." The invalidation is: "Nevertheless, since you did what was not lawful by the law, you are worthy of punishment." The point for decision is: "When one has done what he ought not, and did not know that he ought not, is he worthy of punishment?"

Accident, again, will be brought into confession when it is demonstrated that some force of fortune withstood the intention, as in this: when the Spartans had a law that, unless the contractor should furnish the victims for a certain sacrifice, it should be a capital matter, the victims which he who had contracted began to drive from the country into the city, when the day of the sacrifice was at hand, then suddenly, great storms being stirred up, the river Eurotas, which flows past Lacedaemon, became so great and violent that the victims could in no way be led across it.

The contractor, to show his good will, set all the victims on the bank, so that those who were across the river might see. Although all knew that the sudden swelling of the river had been a hindrance to his zeal, nevertheless certain men arraign him on a capital charge. The charge is: "The victims which you owed for the sacrifice were not at hand." The rebuttal is confession. The reason: "For the river suddenly rose, and on that account they could not be led across." The invalidation: "Nevertheless, since what the law commands was not done, you are worthy of punishment." The point for decision is: "When in that matter the contractor acted against the law, in which matter the sudden greatness of the river withstood his zeal, is he worthy of punishment?"

Necessity, again, is brought in when the accused is defended as having done what he did by some force, in this manner: there is a law among the Rhodians that, if any beaked ship be caught in the harbour, it shall be confiscated. When there was a great storm in the deep, the force of the winds drove a ship, against the will of the sailors, into the harbour of the Rhodians. The quaestor claims the ship for the people; the owner of the ship says it ought not to be confiscated. The charge is: "A beaked ship was caught in the harbour." The rebuttal is confession. The reason: "We were driven into the harbour by force and of necessity." The invalidation is: "Nevertheless, by the law, the ship ought to belong to the people." The point for decision is: "Since the law confiscated a beaked ship caught in the harbour, and this ship was driven into the harbour by the force of the storm, against the will of the sailors, ought it to be confiscated?"

We have brought together the examples of these three kinds into one place for the reason that a similar instruction of arguments is handed down for them. For in all these, first, if the matter itself shall give any opportunity, the accuser will have to introduce a conjecture, so that what is said to have been done unintentionally may be shown by some suspicion to have been done deliberately; then to introduce a definition of necessity or accident or imprudence, and to add to that definition examples in which there seems to have been imprudence or accident or necessity, and from these to separate what the accused brings forward—that is, to show that it is dissimilar, because it was not unavoidable, not fortuitous, not necessary; afterwards to demonstrate that it could have been avoided: that by this method it could have been provided against, if he had done this or that, or, unless he had done it, guarded against; and by definitions to show that this ought to be called not imprudence or accident or necessity, but inertia, negligence, foolishness.

And if any necessity shall seem to have baseness, it will be necessary, by an interweaving of commonplaces, to demonstrate, in refutation, that it was better to endure anything, even to die, than to comply with a necessity of that kind. And then, from those topics of which it was spoken in the negotial part, it will be necessary to inquire into the nature of right and equity, and, as in the absolute juridical, to consider this very thing in itself, separately from all other matters. And on this topic, if there shall be opportunity, it will be necessary to use examples in which, in a similar excuse, pardon was not granted, and by contrast that those deserved pardon more; and from the parts of deliberation, that it is base or useless that that matter should be granted which was committed by the adversary: that it is a very great matter, and will be of great detriment, if that matter be neglected by those who have the power of avenging.

The defender, however, will be able to use all these parts inverted; but most of all he will dwell on defending the intention, and on magnifying that thing which was a hindrance to the intention; and that he could not do more than he did; and that in all things the intention ought to be regarded; and that he cannot be convicted of being absent from fault; that under his own name the common weakness of men can be condemned. Then, that nothing is more unworthy than that he who is free from fault should not be free from punishment. But the commonplaces are: of the accuser, against the confession, and how great a power of sinning is left, if it be once established that the inquiry should be not about the deed but about the cause of the deed;

of the defender, an appeal to pity for that calamity which happened not by fault but by some greater force, and about the power of fortune and the weakness of men, and that they should consider his intention, not the outcome. In all of which there ought to be an appeal to pity for one's own miseries, and indignation at the cruelty of the adversaries. And it will be fitting for no one to wonder if either in these or in other examples he shall see a controversy of writing too joined in. About which kind we must speak separately later, for the reason that certain kinds of causes are considered simply from their own force, while certain ones take to themselves some other kind of controversy as well.

Therefore, all being known, it will not be difficult to transfer to each several cause what shall suit from that kind too; as in these examples of confession there is in all a controversy of writing, that which is named "from the letter and the intent"; but, because we were speaking of confession, we have given precepts on it, and in another place we shall speak of the letter and the intent. Now we shall now direct our consideration to the other part of confession.

Entreaty is that in which is contained not a defence of the deed, but a request for pardon. This kind can scarcely be approved in a trial, for the reason that, the offence being granted, it is difficult to obtain from him who ought to be the avenger of offences that he should pardon. Therefore it will be permitted to use a part of this kind, when you do not rest the case on it; as if you should speak on behalf of some famous or brave man, whose services to the commonwealth are many, you could, while you seem not to use entreaty, nevertheless use it, in this manner: "But if, judges, this man, in return for his services, in return for the zeal which he has always had toward you, at such a time of his own, for the sake of his many right deeds, should ask that you pardon one offence, nevertheless it would be worthy of your clemency, worthy of this man's virtue, judges, that this thing, at his request, should be obtained from you." Then it will be permitted to magnify his services and to lead the judges, through a commonplace, to a willingness to pardon.

Therefore this kind, although it is not engaged in trials except in some part, nevertheless, because this very part too must sometimes be introduced, and is often to be handled in the senate or in a council in every kind, we shall set down precepts on it too. For in the senate there was long deliberation about Syphax, and about Quintus Numitorius Pullus there was long discussion before Lucius Opimius and his council; and in this case the request for pardon prevailed more than that for examination. For he could not so easily prove that he had always been of good disposition toward the Roman people, when he used the conjectural issue, as that he should be pardoned on account of a later service, when he joined to it the parts of entreaty.

It will be necessary, then, for him who shall ask that he be pardoned to mention his own services, if he can have any, and, if he can, to show that they are greater than the offences he has committed, so that more good than evil may seem to have proceeded from him; then to bring forward the services of his ancestors, if any exist; then to show that he did what he did not out of hatred or cruelty, but either from folly, or by someone's impulse, or for some honourable or probable cause; afterwards to promise and affirm that, taught both by this offence and confirmed by the kindness of those who shall have pardoned him, he will at all times keep clear of such a course; then to show that he will be of use in some great place

to those who shall have granted him pardon; afterwards, if there shall be opportunity, that he is either a kinsman, or already from his ancestors especially a friend, and to show the greatness of his good will, the nobility of his birth, the dignity of those who wish him safe, and the other things which are assigned to persons for honour and grandeur, joined with an appeal to pity, without arrogance, to be in himself, so that he may seem worthy rather of some honour than of any punishment; then to bring forward others to whom greater offences have been pardoned. And it will profit much if he shall show that he himself was merciful in power, inclined to pardon. And that very offence must be belittled, so that it may seem to have done as little harm as possible, and it must be demonstrated that to take punishment of such a man is either base or useless.

Then it will be necessary, by commonplaces, to capture pity, from those precepts which were set forth in the first book. The adversary, however, will magnify the misdeeds: he will say that nothing was done unwittingly, but all out of cruelty and malice; that the man himself was unmerciful, proud; and, if he can, he will show that he was always an enemy and can in no way become a friend. If the accused brings forward his services, the adversary will demonstrate either that they were done for some cause, not out of good will, or that afterward keen hatred was conceived, or that all those services have been wiped out by his misdeeds, or that the services were lighter than the misdeeds, or that, when honour was paid in return for the services, punishment ought to be exacted for the misdeed.

Then, that it is base or useless to pardon. Then, that it is the greatest folly not to use the power, on account of which they have often wished there might be such power, against the man; that they ought to consider what disposition and what hatred they had toward him. But the commonplace will be indignation at the misdeed, and the other that one ought to pity those who are in misery on account of fortune, not on account of malice. Since, then, in the general issue we are dwelling so long on account of the multitude of its parts, lest perhaps the mind of someone, distracted by the variety and dissimilarity of matters, be carried into some error, it seems worth giving warning of what still remains to us of that kind, and why it remains. We said that a juridical cause is that in which the nature of the fair and the unfair, and the principle of reward or punishment, is inquired into.

Those causes in which the inquiry is about the fair and the unfair we have set forth. It now remains that we explain about reward and about punishment. For there are many causes which consist of the claim of some reward. For both before judges the inquiry is often about the reward of accusers, and from the senate or a council some reward is often sought. And it will be fitting for no one to suppose that we, when we set down some example which is treated in the senate, are departing from the judicial kind of examples. For whatever is said about approving or disapproving a man—since to that statement the method of expressing opinions too is adapted—is not, if it is conducted through the expression of an opinion, deliberative; but, because a decision is made about a man, it must be held judicial. But in general, whoever shall have carefully come to know the force and nature of all causes will understand that they differ in kind and in their first formation, but in the other parts he will see that they are all fitted to one another and the one involved in the other.

Now let us consider rewards. Lucius Licinius Crassus the consul pursued and made an end of certain men in Hither Gaul who, with no illustrious or certain leader, and not of such a name or number that they deserved to be called enemies of the Roman people, nevertheless by raids and brigandage rendered the province unsafe. He returns to Rome; he demands a triumph from the senate. Here, both in entreaty, it is of no concern to us to come to the point for decision by subjoining reasons and invalidations of reasons, for the reason that, unless some other issue too or part of an issue shall fall in, the point for decision will be simple and contained in the question itself: in entreaty, of this kind: "Ought he to be afflicted with punishment?"; in this, of this kind: "Ought a reward to be given?"

Now we shall set forth the topics suited to the question of reward. The account of reward, then, is distributed into four parts: into the services, into the man, into the kind of reward, into the resources. Services are considered from their own force, from the time, from the intention of him who did them, from the circumstance. From their own force they will be inquired into in this manner: whether they are great or small, easy or difficult, singular or common, true or honoured by some false embellishment; from the time, whether he did it then, when we were in need, when others could not or would not bring aid, then, when hope had deserted; from the intention, whether he did all things not for the sake of his own advantage, but with this purpose, that he might be able to accomplish this; from the circumstance, whether it shall seem to have been done not by fortune but by diligence, or whether fortune withstood his diligence.

As regards the man, by what principles he has lived, what expense or labour he has spent on that matter; whether he has ever done anything of the kind; whether he claims for himself the reward of another's labour or of the goodness of the gods; whether he has ever himself denied that someone ought to be rewarded for such a cause; or whether sufficient honour has already been paid him for what he did; or whether it was necessary for him to do what he did; or whether the deed is of such a kind that, unless he had done it, he would be worthy of punishment, not, because he did it, of reward; or whether he claims the reward before the time and sells an uncertain hope at a certain price; or whether, to avoid some punishment, he claims a reward for that purpose, that a prejudgment may seem to have been made in his favour. As regards the kind of reward, it will be considered what and how much is claimed, and for what reason, and with what and how great a reward each thing is worthy; then it will be inquired among our ancestors to what men and for what causes such honour was paid;

then, lest that honour be too much vulgarized. And here will be the commonplace of him who shall speak against one claiming a reward: that the rewards of virtue and duty ought to be holy and pure, and not either shared with the wicked or vulgarized among mediocre men; and another: that men will be less desirous of virtue if the reward of virtue is vulgarized; for things which are rare and arduous seem, when tried, beautiful and pleasant to men; and a third: if those should arise who among our ancestors were deemed worthy of such honour for outstanding virtue, would they not think something taken from their own glory, when they see such men afflicted with an equal reward? And an enumeration of them, and a comparison with those against whom you speak. But of him who shall claim a reward, the amplification of his own deed, and a contention of his own deeds with those of the men who have been rewarded.

Then, that the rest will be repelled from the pursuit of virtue, if he himself shall not be rewarded. The resources, again, are considered when some monetary reward is claimed; in which it is considered whether there is an abundance of land, of revenues, of money, or a scarcity. The commonplaces: that resources ought to be increased, not diminished; and that he is shameless who, in return for a service, claims not gratitude but a wage; but, on the contrary, that it is sordid to reckon about money when the deliberation is about returning gratitude; and that he claims not a price for the deed, but an honour, as has been the custom, for the service. And about the issues enough has now been said: now it seems we must speak of those controversies which turn on a written document.

A controversy turns on a written document when, from the manner of the writing, some doubt arises. This happens from ambiguity, from the letter and the intent, from contrary laws, from inference, from definition. From ambiguity a controversy arises when it is obscure what the writer meant, because what is written signifies two or more things, in this manner: a head of a household, when he made his son his heir, bequeathed to his wife a hundred pounds' weight of silver vessels in this way: "Let my heir give to my wife a hundred pounds' weight of silver vessels, such as she shall wish." After his death the mother claims from the son the magnificent vessels, costly chased. He says he owes those which he himself shall wish. First, if it can be done, it must be demonstrated that it was not written ambiguously, for the reason that all, in the custom of speech, are wont so to use that word, one or several, in that sense in which he who speaks will demonstrate that it ought to be taken.

Then, from the writing above and below, it must be taught that what is in question becomes clear. Therefore, if the very words be considered separately in themselves, all or most will seem ambiguous; but those things which from the whole writing considered become clear ought not to be thought ambiguous. Then, in what sense the writer was, must be taken from his other writings and from his deeds, words, mind, and life; and that very writing, in which is that ambiguity which is in question, must be tried out as a whole in all its parts, whether anything is either suited to what we interpret, or opposed to what the adversary understands. For it will easily be considered, from the whole writing and from the person of the writer and those things which are assigned to persons, what it is probable he who wrote it wished.

Then it must be demonstrated, if any opportunity shall be given from the matter itself, that what the adversary understands can be done much less conveniently than what we take it to be, because of that thing there is neither management nor any outcome, while what we say can be carried through easily and conveniently; as in this law—for nothing forbids setting down a fictitious one by way of example, that the matter may be more easily understood—: "A harlot shall not have a golden crown; if she shall have one, let it be confiscated," against him who says that, by the law, the harlot ought to be confiscated, it could be said that there is neither any management of confiscating a harlot nor any outcome of the law in confiscating a harlot, but that in confiscating the gold both the management and the outcome are easy, and there is no disadvantage in it.

And it will be necessary to attend carefully to this too: whether, that being approved which the adversary understands, some more useful or more honourable or more necessary matter shall seem to have been neglected by the writer. This will happen if we shall demonstrate that what we set forth is honourable or useful or necessary, and if we shall say that what is said by the adversaries is least of all of that kind. Then, if there shall be a controversy in the law from ambiguity, it will be necessary to take pains that it be taught that, as regards what the adversary understands, provision has been made in another matter by a law.

But it will profit very much to demonstrate in what way he would have written, if he had wished what the adversary takes it to be done or understood; as in this case, in which the inquiry is about silver vessels, the woman can say that it was of no concern to add "such as she shall wish," if he were leaving it to the will of the heir. For with that not added, there would be no doubt that the heir would give those which he himself wished. It would therefore have been madness, when he wished to make provision for the heir, to add that, with which not added the heir was provided for none the less.

Therefore one ought greatly to use this kind in such causes: "He would have written in this way, he would not have used that word, he would not have placed that word in that place." For from these the intention of the writer is most clearly perceived. Then it must be inquired at what time it was written, so that what it is probable he wished at such a time may be understood. Afterwards, from the parts of deliberation, it must be demonstrated what was more useful and what more honourable, both for him to write and for these to approve; and from these, if any opportunity of amplification shall be given, it will be necessary to use commonplaces on both sides. A controversy from the letter and the intent consists in this: when the one uses the very words which are written, the other attaches his whole discourse to what he says the writer meant.

But the intention of the writer, by him who shall defend himself by the intention, will be demonstrated sometimes always to look to the same thing and to wish the same; sometimes, from some deed or outcome, it will be adapted to the occasion which the matter has set. To look always to the same, in this manner: a head of a household, since he had no children, but had a wife, wrote thus in his will: "If one or more sons be born to me, let him be my heir." Then the usual provisions. Afterwards: "If my son die before he comes into his own guardianship, then let so-and-so be my heir." A son was not born. The kinsmen dispute with him who is heir, in case the son had died before he came into his own guardianship.

In this kind it cannot be said that the writer's intention ought to be adapted to the occasion and to some outcome, for the reason that it is demonstrated to be the sole intention, relying on which he who speaks against the writing defends the inheritance to be his. But there is another kind of those who introduce the intention, in which a simple will of the writer is not shown, which holds good for all time and every deed alike, but is said to be interpreted, from some deed or outcome, to suit the occasion. This is most of all sustained by the parts of the assumptive juridical. For sometimes comparison is introduced, as in the case of him who, when a law forbade the gates to be opened by night, opened them in a certain war and received certain reinforcements into the town, lest they be overwhelmed by the enemy

if they were outside, because the enemy had their camp near the walls; sometimes the retort of the charge, as in the case of that soldier who, when the common law of all forbade the killing of a man, killed a military tribune who was trying to do violence to him; sometimes the shifting of the charge, as in the case of him who, when a law had fixed the days on which he should set out on an embassy, did not set out because the quaestor did not give the expense; sometimes confession through purgation and through imprudence, as in the sacrifice of the calf, and through force, as in the beaked ship, and through accident, as in the greatness of the Eurotas. Therefore the intention will either be introduced so that the writer is demonstrated to have wished some one thing, or so that he is taught to have wished this in such a matter and at such a time.

He, then, who shall defend the writing will be able mostly to use all these topics, but for the greater part always: first, the praise of the writer, and the commonplace that those who judge ought to regard nothing but what is written; and this the more, if a statutory document is brought forward—that is, either the law itself or something from the law; afterwards, what is most forceful, a comparison of the deed or charge of the adversaries with the writing itself—what is written, what was done, what the judge has sworn; which topic it will be necessary to vary in many ways, now wondering to himself what can possibly be said against it, now returning to the judge's duty and asking him what he ought to hear or expect besides; now producing the adversary himself, as it were, in the place of a witness—that is, interrogating him—whether he denies that it is written in that way, or denies that he has acted against it, or that it is contended against;

whether, if he has dared to deny, he will say that he is going to cease. If he denies neither, and yet speaks against it: there is nothing whereby anyone could think he was going to see a more shameless man. On this it will be fitting so to dwell, as though nothing besides ought to be said and as though nothing can be said against it, often reciting what is written, often clashing the deed of the adversary with the writing, and at times keenly returning to the judge himself. On which topic it must be demonstrated to the judge what he has sworn, what he ought to follow: that a judge ought to hesitate for two reasons—if either the writing is obscure or the adversary denies something;

but when both the writing is plain and the adversary confesses everything, then the judge ought to obey the law, not to interpret the law. This topic being confirmed, it will then be necessary to dissolve those things which can be said against it. But it will be said against it if either it shall be demonstrated that the writer meant one thing altogether and wrote another—as in that controversy about the will which we set forth—or an assumptive cause shall be introduced, why the writing either could not or ought not to have been obeyed.

If it shall be said that the writer meant one thing and wrote another, he who uses the writing will say these things: that we ought not to argue about the will of one who, that we might not be able to do so, has left us an indication of his will; that many disadvantages follow, if it be established that one should depart from the writing. For both those who write anything will not think that what they have written will hold good, and those who judge will have nothing certain which they may follow, if they have once grown accustomed to depart from the writing. But if the will of the writer is to be preserved, that he himself, not the adversaries, stands by his will. For he comes much nearer to the will of the writer who interprets it from his very letter than he who regards the writer's intention not from his own writing—because he has left, as it were, an image of his will—but searches it out by domestic suspicions.

But if he who shall stand by the intention brings forward a cause, first it must be said against him: how absurd it is not to deny that he acted against the law, but to find some cause why he acted; then, that everything is reversed: that formerly the accusers were wont to persuade the judges that he who was accused was akin to some fault, by bringing forward a cause which had impelled him to sin;—

now the accused himself brings forward a cause why he offended. Then this partition must be introduced, into the several parts of which many arguments will fit: first, that in no law is it fitting that any cause be admitted against the writing; then, if in the other laws it be fitting, that this law is of such a kind that in it it ought not; lastly, if in this law too it be fitting, that this particular cause ought least of all to be admitted. The first part will be confirmed by nearly these topics: that the writer lacked neither talent nor pains nor any faculty whereby he might openly write out what he had in mind; that it was not grievous or difficult for him to except that cause which the adversaries bring forward, if he had thought anything ought to be excepted:

that those who write laws are wont to use exceptions. Then it is fitting to recite laws written with exceptions, and most of all to see whether there is any exception in that very law about which the matter is at issue, in some clause or with the same writer of the law, so that it may the more be proved that he would have excepted it, if he had thought anything ought to be excepted; and to show that to admit a cause is nothing else than to do away with the law, for the reason that, when once the cause is considered, it is of no concern to consider it from the law, since indeed it is not written in the law. But if it be established that to all there be given a cause and a power of sinning, when they have understood that you judge the matter from the disposition of him who acted against the law, not from the law in which you have sworn; then, that for the judges themselves the methods of judging and for the other citizens of living will be thrown into confusion,

if it be once departed from the laws; for both the judges will have nothing to follow, if they depart from what is written, nor in what way they can prove to others that they have judged against the law; and the other citizens will not know what to do, if each shall administer each several matter from his own counsel and from that reckoning which has come into his mind or his fancy, not from the common prescription of the state. Afterwards to inquire of the judges themselves why they are detained in others' affairs; why they are hindered by the office of the commonwealth, so that they cannot the better serve their own affairs and conveniences; why they swear in fixed words; why they assemble at a fixed time, why they depart at a fixed time, while no one brings forward a cause why he should not frequently give his service to the commonwealth, except some cause excepted in the law; or whether they think it fair that they themselves should be bound by the laws amid such great troubles, while they grant that our adversaries neglect the laws;

then likewise to inquire of the judges, if he himself should write into the law an exception of that matter on account of which the accused says he acted against the law, whether they would suffer it; that what he does is more unworthy and more shameless than if he should write it in; and further, what? if the judges themselves wished to write it in, would the people suffer it? And that this is more unworthy: that what they cannot change by word and letter

they should change in the very fact and by a most weighty judgment; then, that it is unworthy that anything be detracted from the law, or the law abrogated, or in any part changed, when no power of examining and approving or disapproving is given to the people; that this will be most invidious to the judges themselves; that this is not the place nor the time for correcting laws; that these things ought to be done before the people and through the people; but if they now do this, that he wishes to know who is the proposer, who are going to accept it; that he sees factions and wishes to dissuade them; but that, since these things are both supremely useless and far the most disgraceful, the law, of whatever sort it is, ought for the present to be preserved by the judges, and afterwards, if it displeases, to be corrected by the people; then, that if the writing did not exist, we should greatly require it, nor would we believe that man, not even if he were out of danger; but now, since it is written, that it is madness to learn the words of him who has sinned rather than of the law itself. By these and similar reasons it is shown that a cause ought not to be admitted apart from the writing.

The second part is that in which it must be shown that, if in the other laws it be fitting, in this it is not. This will be demonstrated if the law shall seem to pertain to the greatest, most useful, most honourable, most sacred matters; or if it shall be useless or base or impious not most carefully to obey the law in such a matter; or if the law shall be demonstrated to be so carefully written out, with provision so made for each several matter, with what ought to be excepted so excepted, that it least suits to suppose that anything has been passed over in so careful a writing. The third topic, most necessary to him who shall speak for the writing, is that through which he ought to show that, if it be fitting that a cause be admitted against the writing, nevertheless that one ought least of all to be admitted which is brought forward by the adversaries.

Which topic is therefore necessary to him, because he who shall speak against the writing must always bring forward something of equity. For it would be the greatest shamelessness for one who wishes to prove something against what is written not to try to do this with the support of equity. If, therefore, the accuser detracts something from this very thing, he will seem in all respects to accuse more justly and more probably. For the earlier discourse did all this: that the judges, even if they were unwilling, were under necessity; but this discourse does so that, even if there were no necessity, they would wish to judge against him.

And this will happen if, from those topics from which fault is demonstrated to be in him who defends himself by comparison, or removal, or retort of the charge, or the parts of confession—about which we have written out carefully before, as we could—if from those topics which the matter shall require we transfer to disproving the cause of the adversaries; or if causes and reasons are brought forward why and with what design it was so written in the law or in the will, so that the cause may seem to be confirmed by the meaning and will of the writer too, and not by the writing alone; or it shall be proved from the other issues too that the deed was done wrongly.

But he who shall speak against the writing will first introduce that topic through which the equity of the cause is demonstrated; or he will show with what mind, with what design, for what cause he acted; and, whatever cause he shall assume, he will defend himself by the parts of assumption, of which it was spoken before. And on this topic, when he shall have dwelt rather long and adorned the reason of his deed and the equity of the cause, he will then say that causes ought to be admitted against the adversaries from nearly these topics. He will demonstrate that there is no law which wishes any useless or unfair thing to be done; that all the punishments which proceed from the laws are established for the sake of avenging fault and malice;

that the writer himself, if he should arise, would approve this deed, and would himself have done the same, if such a matter had befallen him; that the writer of the law for this reason established judges of a fixed order, endowed with a fixed age, that there might be men, not who would recite his writing—which any boy could do—but who could attain it by reflection and interpret his will; then, that that writer, if he were to commit his writings to foolish men and barbarous judges, would have written everything out with the greatest diligence; but now, because he understood what sort of men would judge the matters, for that reason he did not write in those things which he saw to be clear:

"for he thought you would be, not reciters of his writing, but interpreters of his will"; afterwards to inquire of the adversaries: "What, if I had done this? What, if this had happened?"—some one of those things in which either the cause is most honourable or the necessity most certain—"would you nevertheless accuse?" "And yet the law nowhere excepted it; not all things, then, are provided for by writings, but certain things which are clear, by tacit exceptions"; then, that no matter can be rightly administered either by laws or by any writing, finally not even in daily speech and domestic commands, if each man wished to regard the words and not to approach the will of him who used those words;

then, from the parts of usefulness and honour, to show how useless or how base is that which the adversaries say ought to have been done or ought to be done, and how useful or how honourable is that which we did or claim; then, that the laws are dear to us not on account of the letters, which are slight and obscure marks of the will, but on account of the usefulness of those matters about which it is written, and the wisdom and diligence of those who wrote them; afterwards, to describe what a law is, so that it may seem to consist in meanings, not in words; and that he seems to obey the law who follows its meaning, not who follows its writing; then, how unworthy it is that the same punishment afflict him who acted against the laws on account of some crime and audacity, and him who, for an honourable or necessary cause, departed not from the meaning but from the letters of the law; and by these and similar reasons he will demonstrate both that a cause ought to be admitted, and that it ought to be admitted in this law, and that the cause which he himself brings forward ought to be admitted.

And just as we said to him who should speak for the writing that this would be most useful—if he detracted something from that equity which stood with the adversary—so for this man, who shall speak against the writing, it will profit most to turn something from the very writing to his own cause, or to show that something is written ambiguously; then, from that ambiguity, to defend the part which profits him; or to introduce a definition of a word, and to turn the force of that word by which he seems to be pressed to the advantage of his own cause; or, from what is written, to introduce something not written, by inference, of which we shall speak later.

But in whatever matter, however slightly probable, he shall have defended himself by the writing itself, while he abounds in equity in his cause, he will necessarily profit much, for the reason that, if he shall have withdrawn that on which the adversaries' cause rests, he will have softened and dissolved all its force and keenness. But the commonplaces will, like the rest, suit both sides from the parts of assumption. Besides, of him who shall speak for the writing: that laws ought to be regarded from themselves, not from the advantage of him who has acted against them, and that nothing ought to be held more important than the laws. Against the writing: that laws consist in the design of the writer and the common advantage, not in the words; how unworthy it is that equity be pressed by the letters, which is defended by the will of him who wrote.

From contrary laws a controversy arises when two or more laws seem to be at variance with one another, in this manner: a law: "Whoever shall have slain a tyrant, let him take the rewards of an Olympic victor, and let him demand from the magistrate whatever thing he wishes for himself, and let the magistrate grant it to him." And another law: "When a tyrant is slain, let the magistrate put to death his five nearest in kinship." Alexander, who had seized the tyranny among the Pheraeans in Thessaly, his own wife, whose name was Thebe, killed by night, when she was lying with him. She demands for herself, in place of a reward, her own son, whom she had by the tyrant. There are those who say the boy ought to be killed by the law. The matter is in court. In this kind the same topics and the same precepts will suit both sides, for the reason that each will have to confirm his own law and weaken the contrary.

First, then, it is fitting to compare the laws, considering which law pertains to the greater—that is, to the more useful, more honourable, and more necessary—matters; from which it follows that, if there shall be two laws, or several, however many there shall be, since they are at variance with one another, they cannot be preserved, but that one is thought most of all to be preserved which shall seem to pertain to the greatest matters; then, which law was passed later; for each latest is the weightiest; then, which law commands something, which permits; for that which is commanded is necessary, that which is permitted is voluntary; then, in which law, if it be not obeyed,

a penalty is added, or in which a greater penalty is established; for that is most of all to be preserved which is most carefully sanctioned; then, which law commands, which forbids; for often that which forbids seems, as by a kind of exception, to correct that which commands; then, which law is about a whole kind, which about some part; which seems written commonly for several, which for some definite matter; for that which is written for some part, and that which is written for some certain matter, seems to come nearer to the cause and to pertain more to the trial; then, from the law, which must be done at once, which has some delay and postponement;

for that which must be done at once ought to be accomplished first; then, to take pains that one's own law seem to rest on the writing itself, but the contrary to be introduced either through ambiguity or through inference or through definition, since that seems to be more sacred and firm which is written more openly; then, to attach to the writing of one's own law its meaning too, and likewise to draw the contrary law over to another meaning, so that, if it can be done, they may not even seem to be at variance with one another; finally, to bring it about, if the cause shall give opportunity, that by our method each law seem to be preserved, but by the adversaries' method one must necessarily be neglected. But the commonplaces it will be necessary both to see those which the cause itself gives, and to take from the amplest parts of usefulness and honour, demonstrating by amplification to which law one ought rather to incline.

From inference a controversy arises when from that which exists somewhere one comes to that which is nowhere written, in this manner: a law: "If a man is mad, let the power over him and his property belong to his kinsmen and clansmen." And a law: "As a head of a household shall have bequeathed concerning his household and property, so let it be law." And a law: "If a head of a household dies intestate, let his household and property

belong to his kinsmen and clansmen." A certain man was adjudged to have killed his parent, and at once, because there was no opportunity of escaping, wooden shoes were put on his feet; his mouth was wrapped about with a leather bag and bound up; then he was led to prison, to be there for the time until the sack, into which he should be thrown to be carried down into the running stream, was prepared. Meanwhile certain of his intimates bring tablets into the prison and lead in witnesses; they write down the heirs whom he himself orders; the tablets are sealed. About him punishment is afterwards exacted. Between those who are written heirs in the tablets and the kinsmen there is a controversy about the inheritance. Here no fixed law is brought forward which takes away the power of making a will from those who are in that condition. From the other laws—both those which afflict this very man with a punishment of that kind, and those which pertain to the power of making a will—one must come, by inference, to such a reckoning that it be inquired whether he had the power of making a will.

But the commonplaces in this kind of arguing we judge to be these and certain ones of this sort: first, the praise and confirmation of the writing which you bring forward; then a comparison of the matter under inquiry with that which is settled, of such a kind that what is under inquiry may seem similar to that which is settled; afterwards wonder, by contrast, how it can be that he who grants this to be fair denies that, which is either more fair or in the same kind; then, that nothing was written about this matter for the reason that, since it was written about that, he who was writing thought no one would be in doubt about this;

afterwards, that in many laws many things are passed over which no one thinks were passed over for that reason, because they can be understood from the rest, about which it is written; then the equity of the matter must be demonstrated, as in the absolute juridical. But he who shall speak against it will have to weaken the resemblance; which he will do if he shall demonstrate that what is compared is different in kind, nature, force, magnitude, time, place, person, opinion; if it shall be shown in what class that which is brought forward by resemblance, and in what class that for the sake of which it is brought forward, ought to be held; then it will be demonstrated in what one matter differs from the other, so that the same does not seem to be thought of each.

And, if he himself too shall be able to use inferences, he will use the same methods which were prescribed before; if he shall not be able, he will deny that anything ought to be considered except what is written; that there are many laws about similar matters, and yet single ones for each several matter; that all things can be demonstrated either similar or dissimilar to one another. The commonplaces: from inference, that one ought to come by conjecture from what is written to what is not written; and that no one can embrace all matters by writing, but that he writes most conveniently who takes care that certain things be understood from certain others;

against inference, of this kind: that conjecture is divination, and that it belongs to a foolish writer not to be able to provide for all the matters he wishes. Definition is when in a writing some word is set down about whose meaning the inquiry is, in this manner: a law: "Those who shall have abandoned a ship in an adverse storm, let them lose everything; let the ship and its cargo belong to those who remained in the ship." Two men, when they were now sailing in the deep, and when the ship was the one's, the cargo the other's, noticed a certain shipwrecked man swimming and stretching out his hands to them; moved by pity, they brought the ship to him and took the man up to themselves.

Afterwards, somewhat later, the storm began to toss them too more violently, to such a degree that the owner of the ship, who was the same as the helmsman, fled into the skiff, and from there, by the rope which, tied from the stern, drew the skiff fastened to it, governed the ship as far as he could, while the other, whose the merchandise was, fell upon his sword there in the ship. Here that shipwrecked man came to the helm and gave the ship what help he could. But the waves being stilled and the storm now changed, the ship is carried into the harbour. But he who had fallen upon his sword, being lightly wounded, was easily recovered from his wound. The ship with its cargo each of these three says is his own. Here all approach the case by the writing, and from the meaning of a word a controversy arises. For both "to abandon a ship" and "to remain in a ship," and finally what the ship itself is, will be inquired by definitions. And it will be handled from all the same topics as the definitional issue.

Now, these arguments having been set forth which are adapted to the judicial kind of causes, we shall next give the topics and precepts of arguing for the deliberative and demonstrative kind—not because every cause does not always turn on some issue, but because nevertheless there are certain topics proper to these causes, not separated from the issue, but adapted to the ends of these kinds.

For it pleases us that in the judicial kind the end is equity, that is, a certain part of honour; but in the deliberative, Aristotle holds that it is usefulness, we both honour and usefulness; in the demonstrative, honour. Therefore in each kind of cause certain arguments will be handled in common and in like manner, certain ones will be attached more separately to the end to which all the speech ought to be referred. And we should not be reluctant to subjoin an example of each several issue, did we not see that, just as obscure matters are made clearer by speaking, so clear matters are made more obscure by speech. Now let us proceed to the precepts of deliberation.

There are three kinds of things to be sought; and an equal number of things to be avoided on the contrary side. For there is something which by its own force allures us to itself, not catching us by any profit, but drawing us by its own worth, of which kind are virtue, knowledge, truth. There is another thing to be sought not on account of its own force and nature, but on account of its fruit and usefulness; of which kind is money. There is, further, something joined from the parts of these, which both leads us, allured by its own force and worth, and carries with it a certain usefulness, that it may the more be sought, such as friendship and a good reputation.

And from these the contraries of these will easily be understood, even though we are silent. But, that the method may be handed down more expeditiously, those things which we have set down will be named briefly. For the things which are in the first kind will be called honourable; those which are in the second, useful. But these third things, because they contain a part of honour, and because the force of honour is greater, are understood to be joined and of a twofold kind, but let them be referred to the better part of the term and named honourable. From these this is concluded: that the parts of things to be sought are honour and usefulness, of things to be avoided, baseness and uselessness. To these two matters, then, two great matters are assigned: necessity and disposition; of which the one is considered from force, the other from the matter and the persons. About both we shall write out more openly later; now let us first explain the principles of honour.

What is sought either wholly or in some part for its own sake we shall name honourable. Therefore, since there are two parts of it, of which the one is simple, the other joined, let us first consider the simple. There is, then, in that kind, virtue, embracing all things in one force and under one name. For virtue is a disposition of mind consonant with the measure of nature and with reason. Wherefore, all its parts being known, the whole force of simple honour will have been considered. It has, then, four parts: prudence, justice, fortitude, temperance.

Prudence is the knowledge of things good and evil and neither. Its parts are memory, intelligence, foresight. Memory is that through which the mind recalls those things which have been; intelligence, that through which it perceives those things which are; foresight, that through which something future is seen before it has been done. Justice is a disposition of mind which, the common advantage being preserved, assigns to each his own worth. Its beginning is derived from nature; then certain things came into custom from a consideration of usefulness; afterwards both the things derived from nature and the things approved by custom were sanctioned by the fear of the laws and by religion.

The law of nature is that which not opinion has begotten, but a certain force has implanted in nature, such as religion, dutiful affection, gratitude, requital, observance, truth. Religion is that which brings care and ceremony for a certain higher nature, which they call divine; dutiful affection, that through which a kindly duty and diligent worship is rendered to those joined by blood and to one's country; gratitude, in which is contained the memory of the friendships and services of another, and the will to requite them; requital, through which force or wrong, and in general everything which will be harmful, is driven off by defending or avenging; observance, through which men who excel in some dignity are deemed worthy of a certain worship and honour;

truth, through which those things which are, or have been, or will be, are stated unchanged. The law of custom is that which either usage has nourished and made greater, having drawn it lightly from nature, such as religion; or, if any of those things which we mentioned before, derived from nature, we see made greater on account of custom; or which antiquity has brought into a usage by the approval of common opinion—of which kind are agreement, fairness, the adjudged. An agreement is what is settled among certain parties; the fair is what is equitable toward all; the adjudged is that about which it has already been established by the opinions of someone or of several. The law of statute is that which is contained in that writing which is set forth to the people that they may observe it.

Fortitude is the considered undertaking of dangers and the enduring of labours. Its parts are magnificence, confidence, patience, perseverance. Magnificence is the reflection upon and management of great and lofty matters with a certain ample and splendid resolution of mind; confidence is that through which, in great and honourable matters, the mind itself has placed much trust in itself, with a sure hope; patience is the voluntary and long-continued enduring of arduous and difficult matters for the sake of honour or usefulness; perseverance is a stable and perpetual continuance in a well-considered plan.

Temperance is the firm and moderate mastery of reason over lust and over the other not-right impulses of the mind. Its parts are continence, clemency, modesty. Continence is that through which desire is ruled by the governance of counsel; clemency, that through which minds rashly stirred to the hatred of someone are restrained by kindness; modesty, that through which a sense of shame procures a care for the honourable and a stable authority. And all these are to be sought for their own sake alone, so that no profit be joined to them. To demonstrate which neither pertains to this our undertaking and is remote from brevity of teaching.

But to be avoided for their own sake are not only those things which are contrary to these—as cowardice to fortitude and injustice to justice—but also those which seem near and bordering on them, yet are very far away; of which kind, contrary to confidence is diffidence, and on that account it is a vice; audacity is not contrary, but set beside it and near it, and yet it is a vice. Thus to each several virtue a bordering vice will be found, either already called by a fixed name—as audacity, which borders on confidence; obstinacy, which borders on perseverance; superstition, which is near to religion—or without any fixed name. All of which, like the contraries of good things, will likewise be set down among the things to be avoided. And about that kind of honour which is sought in every part for its own sake enough has been said.

Now we must speak of that in which usefulness too is joined, which nevertheless we call honourable. There are, then, many things which lead us both by their worth and also by their own fruit; in which kind are glory, dignity, grandeur, friendship. Glory is frequent renown about someone with praise; dignity is the honourable authority of someone, worthy of cultivation and honour and reverence; grandeur is a great abundance of power or majesty or of some resources; friendship is good will toward someone in respect of good things, for the sake of that very person whom one esteems, together with his equal good will.

Here, because we are speaking of civil causes, we join fruit to friendship, so that it may seem to be sought for the sake of these too, lest perhaps those who think we are speaking about every friendship begin to find fault. Although there are those who think friendship is to be sought only for the sake of usefulness; there are those who think only for its own sake; there are those who think both for its own sake and for usefulness. Which of these is most truly established will be the place for considering elsewhere. Now let this be left thus, for oratorical use: that friendship is to be sought for the sake of both. But the principle of friendships—since some are joined by religious bonds, some are not, and because some are old, some new, some derived from the kindness of those others, some from our own, some more useful, some less useful—will be held from the dignities of causes, from the opportunities of times, from services, from religious bonds, from antiquity.

Usefulness, again, is placed either in the body or in external things; of which matters, however, much the greatest part returns to the advantage of the body, as in the commonwealth there are certain things which, so to speak, pertain to the body of the state—such as lands, harbours, money, a fleet, sailors, soldiers, allies—by which things states retain their safety and liberty; but others which accomplish something more ample and less necessary—such as the outstanding adornment and grandeur of a city, a certain surpassing greatness of money, a multitude of friendships and alliances.

By which things it is accomplished not only that states be safe and unharmed, but also that they be ample and powerful. Therefore there seem to be two parts of usefulness, safety and power. Safety is the assured and entire preservation of well-being; power is the command of things suited for preserving one's own and weakening another's. And in all those things which have been said before, it is fitting to consider what can be done and what can be done easily. We shall call that easy which can be accomplished without great labour, or without any, in the briefest possible time, with little expense and trouble; but we shall call that possible to be done which, although it requires labour, expense, trouble, length of time, and has all or most or the greatest causes of difficulty, nevertheless, these difficulties being undertaken, can be accomplished and brought to an outcome.

Since, then, we have spoken of honour and of usefulness, it now remains that we write out about those matters which we said were assigned to these, necessity and disposition. I think, then, that this is necessity, which can be resisted by no force, so that it the less accomplishes what it can accomplish; which can neither be changed nor softened. When necessities of this kind shall fall into the methods of speaking, they will rightly be called necessities;

but if some difficult matters shall occur, we shall consider them in that earlier question, "whether it can be done." And this too I seem to myself to see: that there are certain necessities with a qualification, certain ones simple and absolute. For we are wont to speak in one way: "It is necessary for the Casilinates to surrender to Hannibal"; but in another way: "It is necessary for Casilinum to come into Hannibal's power." There, in the former, the qualification is this: "unless they prefer to perish by hunger"; for if they prefer that, it is not necessary; this latter is not so, for the reason that, whether the Casilinates wish to surrender, or to endure hunger and so perish, it is necessary for Casilinum to come into Hannibal's power. What, then, can this distinction of necessity accomplish? I should almost say very much, when the topic of necessity shall seem to fall in. For when the necessity shall be simple,

there will be nothing for us to say much about, since we can in no way soften it; but when it shall be necessary in such a way that, if we wish to escape or obtain something, we must, then it will be necessary to consider what usefulness or what honour that qualification has. For if you should wish to attend—yet in such a way that you seek what suits the use of the state—you would find that there is no matter which it is necessary to do, except on account of some cause which we name a qualification; but that there are equally many matters to which no similar qualification attaches; of which kind, men must die, without a qualification; that they use food is not necessary, except with that exception, "unless they prefer to perish by hunger."

Therefore, as I say, that which is attached must always be considered, of what kind it is. For at all times this will be pertinent, that necessity must be set forth in this manner: "It is necessary, if we wish to live honourably; it is necessary, if we wish to be safe; it is necessary, if we wish to live without disadvantage." And the highest necessity indeed seems to be that of honour; next to this, that of safety;

third and slightest, that of advantage; which can never contend with these two. But these must often be compared with one another, so that, although honour excels safety, nevertheless it is deliberated to which one ought rather to look. Of this matter a certain fixed prescription seems able to be given for all time. For, in a matter in which it shall be possible that, when we have looked to safety, what has been for the present detracted from honour may at some time be recovered by virtue and industry, the principle of safety will seem to be regarded; but when this shall not be possible, that of honour. So in a matter of this kind too, when we shall seem to look to safety, we shall truly be able to say that we have regard for honour, since without safety we can at no time attain it. In which matter it will be fitting either to yield to the other party, or to come down to the other's condition, or for the present to keep quiet and await another time,

provided only this be attended to: whether that cause which shall pertain to usefulness seem worthy enough that on account of it something be detracted from magnificence or honour. And on this topic the chief point seems to me to be that we inquire what that is which, if we wish to obtain or escape it, some matter is necessary to us—that is, what the qualification is—so that, accordingly, as each matter shall be, we may labour and judge each weightiest cause to be most vehemently necessary.

Disposition is a certain change of matters from the occasion, or from the outcome of affairs, or their management, or the zeal of men, so that they seem to be held as not such as they were held before, or are wont mostly to be held; as it seems base to go over to the enemy, but not with that mind with which Ulysses went over; and to throw money into the sea is useless, but not with that design with which Aristippus did it. There are, then, certain matters to be considered from the occasion and from the design, not from their own nature; in all of which it must be considered what the times demand, what is worthy of the persons; and not what, but with what mind each thing is done, with whom, at what time, how long, must be attended to. From these parts we judge that topics ought to be taken for the expressing of an opinion.

But praises and blames will be taken from those topics which are assigned to persons, of which it was spoken before. But if anyone shall wish to treat them more distributively, it will be permitted to divide them into the mind, the body, and external things. The virtue of the mind, of whose parts it was spoken a little before; of the body, health, dignity, strength, swiftness; external things, honour, money, connections, birth, friends, country, power, and the rest which will be understood to be in a like kind.

And in these that ought to hold good which holds good for all things; the contraries too, what and of what sort they are, will be understood. But in praising and blaming it will be necessary to see not so much what one had in his body or in external things, as in what way one used these things. For to praise fortune indeed is folly, and to blame it is pride; but the praise of the mind is honourable, and the blame of it forceful. Now, since the method of arguing for every kind of cause has been handed down, enough seems to have been said about invention, the first and greatest part of rhetoric. Therefore, since one part has been brought to a close both in this and in the earlier book, and this book contains no small amount of writing, the things which remain we shall state in the books that follow.