Pro P. Sulla

Therefore I, the same person who have seemed to be vehement against some men, inexorable towards the rest of the conspirators, (I paid my country what I owed seemed to be vehement against some men, inexorable towards I heard of nothing. Therefore I, the same person who have seemed to be vehement against some men, inexorable towards the rest of the conspirators, (I paid my country what I owed her; what I am now doing is due to my own invariable habits and natural disposition,) am as merciful, O judges, as you yourselves. I am as gentle as the most soft-hearted among you. As far as I was vehement in union with you, I did nothing except what I was compelled to do: I came to the assistance of the republic when in great danger; I raised my sinking country; influenced by pity for the whole body of citizens, we were then as severe as was necessary. The safety of all men would have been lost for ever in one night, if that severity had not been exercised; but as I was led on to the punishment of wicked men by my attachment to the republic, so now I am led to secure the safety of the innocent by my own inclination.

I see, O judges, that in this Publius Sulla there is nothing worthy of hatred, and many circumstances deserving our pity. For he does not now, O judges, flee to you as a suppliant for the sake of warding off calamity from himself, but to prevent his whole family and name from being branded with the stigma of nefarious baseness. For as for himself, even if he be acquitted by your decision, what honours has he, what comfort has he for the rest of his life, in which he can find delight or enjoyment? His house, I suppose, will be adorned; the images of his ancestors will be displayed; he himself will resume his ornaments and his usual dress. All these things, O judges, are lost to him; all the insignia and ornaments of his family, and his name, and his honour, were lost by the calamity of that one decision. But he is anxious not to be called the destroyer, the betrayer, the enemy of his country; he is fearful of leaving such disgrace to a family of such renown; he is anxious that this unhappy child may not be called the son of a conspirator, a criminal and a traitor. He fears for this boy, who is much dearer to him than his own life, anxious, though he cannot leave him the undiminished inheritance of his honours, at all events not to leave him the undying recollection of his infamy.