I see, O judges, that you, as becomes your feelings of humanity, are violently moved at these enormous crimes now briefly related by me. What do you think must have been their feelings who had not only to hear of these wicked deeds, but also to sit in judgment on them? You are hearing of a man, in whose case you are not the judges,—of a man whom you do not see,—of a man whom you now can no longer hate, —of a man who has made atonement to nature and to the laws, whom the laws have punished with banishment, nature with death. You are hearing of these actions, not from any enemy, you are hearing of them without any witnesses being produced; you are hearing of them when those things which might be enlarged upon at the greatest length are stated by me in a brief and summary manner. They were hearing of the actions of a man with reference to whom they were bound to deliver their judgment on oath,—of a man who was present, whose infamous and hardened countenance they were looking upon,—of a man whom they hated on account of his audacity,—of him whom they thought worthy of every possible punishment. They were hearing the relation of these crimes from his accusers; they were hearing the statements of many witnesses; they were hearing a serious and long oration on each separate particular from Publius Canutius, a most eloquent man.

And is there any man who, when he has become acquainted with these things, can suspect that Oppianicus was taken unfair advantage of, and crushed at his trial, though he was innocent? I will now mention all the other things in a lump, O judges, in order to come to those things which are nearer to, and more immediately connected with, this cause. I entreat you to recollect that it was no part of my original intention to bring any accusation against Oppianicus, now that he is dead; but that as I wish to persuade you that the tribunal was not bribed by my client, I use this as the beginning and foundation of my defence,—that Oppianicus was condemned, being a most guilty and wicked man. He himself gave a cup to his own wife Cluentia, who was the aunt of that man Habitus, and she while drinking it cried out that she was dying in the greatest agony; and she lived no longer than she was speaking, for she died in the middle of this speech and exclamation. And besides the suddenness of this death, and the exclamation of the dying woman, everything which is considered a sign and proof of poison was discovered in her body after she was dead.