Letter 728
To Celsus, governor of Cilicia. (362)
No sooner had the emperor released you than he encountered me. He nearly passed by in silence, since my face had been changed by both time and illness. But when my uncle -- who shares my name -- told him who I was, he was suddenly moved with a wonderful stirring upon his horse. He seized my right hand and would not let go, pelting me with the most charming jokes, sweeter than roses, while I gave as good as I got. He was marvelous at both -- the quips he made and the ones he took.
After resting briefly and delighting the city with horse races, he asked me to speak. I did so at his invitation -- I did not impose myself -- and he was pleased, confirming my opening line, where I had said that his love for me would make him think everything I said was brilliant. And so it turned out.
You yourself are among those who have spoken and won approval, with the gods close at hand helping you from beside the altar and lending you courage against the heat. Yet you were so far from sending me your speech that you did not even write to say you had spoken. To Olympius you said, with false modesty, that you had "vomited it up" -- but to me, not even that.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.