Quintus Aurelius Symmachus → Campania

Our reasons for not writing are different, but the result is the same. I'm held up by the duties of the pontificate; you, by the pleasant negligence of your holiday at Baiae. Relaxation makes a man just as lazy as overwork. And no wonder that coast claims you entirely — we know for certain that Hannibal himself, undefeated in war, surrendered to Campania. Not even the legendary lotus tree that held travelers captive, or Circe's seductive cup, or the songs of the half-bird Sirens could equal the allure of that sky and soil.

Not that I'm accusing you of fattening yourself on idle holidays, or suggesting your virtue has been softened by luxury. But while you read for yourself, write for yourself, and rest your mind from urban affairs in solitude — enormous as your spirit is — you're neglecting the duties of friendship entirely.

So pick up your pen and show my affection the courtesy it deserves — unless you'd prefer to test the authority of a pontiff. We priests have much to deliberate in our college. Who gave you leave from your public duties? You'll feel the rights of a priest if you fail to fulfil the rights of a friend. Farewell.