From motives of friendship, urged by no one, he came unbidden to the woman whom he had formerly so sincerely admired, to entreat her to cheer the unfortunate man, rouse him, and remind him of his duty.  He had little news to impart; for on the voyage she had herself witnessed long enough the pitiable condition of her husband.  Now Antony was beginning to be content in it, and this was what most sorely troubled the faithful friend.

The Imperator had called the little palace which he occupied on the Choma his Timonium, because he compared himself with the famous Athenian misanthrope who, after fortune abandoned him, had also been betrayed by many of his former friends.  Even at Taenarum he had thought of returning to the Choma, and by means of a wall, which would separate it from the mainland, rendering it as inaccessible as—­according to rumour—­the grave of Timon at Halae near Athens.  Gorgias had erected it, and whoever wished to visit the hermit was forced to go by sea and request admittance, which was granted to few.

Cleopatra listened to Lucilius with sympathy, and then asked whether there was no way of cheering or comforting the wretched man.

“No, your Majesty,” he replied.  “His favourite occupation is to recall what he once possessed, but only to show the uselessness of these memories.  ‘What joys has life not offered me?’ he asks, and then adds:  ’But they were repeated again and again, and after being enjoyed for the tenth time they became monotonous and lost their charm.  Then they caused satiety to the verge of loathing.’  Only necessary things, such as bread and water, he says, possess real value; but he desires neither, because he has even less taste for them than for the dainties which spoil a man’s morrow.  Yesterday in a specially gloomy hour, he spoke of gold.  This was perhaps most worthy of desire.  The mere sight of it awakened pleasant hopes, because it might afford so many gratifications.  Then he laughed bitterly, exclaiming that those joys were the very ones which produced the most disagreeable satiety.  Even gold was not worth the trouble of stretching out one’s hand.

“He is fond of enlarging upon such fancies, and finds images to make his meaning clear.

“‘In the snow upon the highest mountain-peak the feet grow cold,’ he said.  ’In the mire they are warm, but the dark mud is ugly and clings to them.’

“Then I remarked that between the morass and the mountain-snows lie sunny valleys where life would be pleasant; but he flew into a rage, vehemently protesting that he would never be content with the pitiable middle course of Horace.  Then he exclaimed:  ’Ay, I am vanquished.  Octavianus and his Agrippa are the conquerors; but if a rock mutilates or an elephant’s clumsy foot crushes me, I am nevertheless of a higher quality than either.’”

“There spoke the old Mark Antony!” cried Cleopatra; but again Lucilius’s loyal heart throbbed with resentment against the woman who had fostered the recklessness which had brought his powerful friend to ruin, and he continued: