Pomponius, you shared none of your wisdom when it would have saved me, maybe because you thought I had enough advice, or that you owed me nothing more than your presence. Betrayed, deceived, beset with trickery, I abandoned and left behind Italy, all of which stood ready to defend me. I surrendered myself and my family to my enemies while you looked on and said nothing. Even if you were not my equal in talent, you were at least less scared. If you can lift me from my suffering, help me in this. But if all options are blocked, make sure I know this, and finally stop your scolding or commonplace consolation.
If I were blaming you for disloyalty, I would not trust your house more than any other. I blame my own absent mind, because I thought you loved me as much as I wanted you to. If you did, you would have shown the same amount of loyalty, but more care. You would surely have held me back when I rushed to my doom, and you would not be going through those labours you are now taking on, in my current shipwrecked circumstances.
