Pompey

And so, after coasting along towards Amphipolis, he crossed over to Mitylene, desiring to take on board Cornelia and his son. And when he had reached the shore of the island, he sent a messenger to the city, not such a one as Cornelia was expecting in view of the joyful messages and letters she had received, for she was hoping that the war was ended at Dyrrachium, and that the only task left for Pompey was the pursuit of Caesar.

The messenger, finding her in this mood, could not bring himself to salute her, but indicated to her the most and greatest of her misfortunes by his tears rather than by his speech, and merely bade her hasten if she had any wish to see Pompey with one ship only, and that not his own. When she heard this, she cast herself upon the ground and lay there a long time bereft of sense and speech. At last, however, and with difficulty, she regained her senses, and perceiving that the occasion was not one for tears and lamentations, she ran out through the city to the sea.

Pompey met her and caught her in his arms as she tottered and was falling. I see thee, she cried, husband, not by thy fortune, but by mine, reduced to one small vessel, thou who before thy marriage with Cornelia didst sail this sea with five hundred ships. Why hast thou come to see me, and why didst thou not leave to her cruel destiny one who has infected thee also with an evil fortune so great? What a happy woman I had been if I had died before hearing that Publius, whose virgin bride I was, was slain among the Parthians! And how wise if, even after his death, as I essayed to do, I had put an end to my own life! But I was spared, it seems, to bring ruin also upon Pompey the Great.