VIII.  Let the ambassadors go, with all our good wishes, but let those men go at whom Antonius may take no offence.  But if you are not anxious about what he may think, at all events.  O conscript fathers, you ought to have some regard for me.  At least spare my eyes, and make some allowance for a just indignation.  For with what countenance shall I be able to behold, (I do not say, the enemy of my country, for my hatred of him on that score I feel in common with you all,) but how shall I bear to look upon that man who is my own most bitter personal enemy, as his most furious harangues against me plainly declare him?  Do you think that I am so completely made of iron as to be able unmoved to meet him, or look at him? who lately, when in an assembly of the people he was making presents to those men who appeared to him the most audacious of his band of parricidal traitors, said that he gave my property to Petissius of Urbinum, a man who, after the shipwreck of a very splendid patrimony, was dashed against these rocks of Antonius.  Shall I be able to bear the sight of Lucius Antonius? a man from whose cruelty I could not have escaped if I had not defended myself behind the walls and gates and by the zeal of my own municipal town.  And this same Asiatic gladiator, this plunderer of Italy, this colleague of Lenti and Nucula, when he was giving some pieces of gold to Aquila the centurion, said that he was giving him some of my property.  For, if he had said he was giving him some of his own, he thought that the eagle itself would not have believed it.  My eyes cannot—­my eyes, I say, will not bear the sight of Saxa, or Capho, or the two praetors, or the tribune of the people, or the two tribunes elect, or Bestia, or Trebellius, or Titus Plancus.  I cannot look with equanimity on so many, and those such foul, such wicked enemies; nor is that feeling caused by any fastidiousness of mine, but by my affection for the republic.  But I will subdue my feelings, and keep my own inclinations under restraint.  If I cannot eradicate my most just indignation, I will conceal it.  What?  Do you not think, O Conscript fathers, that I should have some regard for my own life?  But that indeed has never been an object of much concern to me, especially since Dolabella has acted in such a way that death is a desirable thing, provided it come without torments and tortures.  But in your eyes and in those of the Roman people my life ought not to appear of no consequence.  For I am a man,—­unless indeed I am deceived in my estimate of myself,—­who by my vigilance, and anxiety, by the opinions which I have delivered, and by the dangers too of which I have encountered great numbers, by reason of the most bitter hatred which all impious men bear me, have at least, (not to seem to say anything too boastful,) conducted myself so as to be no injury to the republic.  And as this is the case, do you think that I ought to have no consideration for my own danger?