Brevity is always necessary, especially when you have a great deal
to say, and this must be proportioned to the facts and circumstances
which you have to relate. In general, you must slightly run through
little things, and dwell longer on great ones. When you treat your
friends, you give them boars, hares, and other dainties; you would
not offer them beans, saperda, {66a} or any other common food.

When you describe mountains, rivers, and bulwarks, avoid all pomp
and ostentation, as if you meant to show your own eloquence; pass
over these things as slightly as you can, and rather aim at being
useful and intelligible. Observe how the great and sublime Homer
acts on these occasions! as great a poet as he is, he says nothing
about Tantalus, Ixion, Tityus, and the rest of them. But if
Parthenius, Euphorion, or Callimachus, had treated this subject,
what a number of verses they would have spent in rolling Ixion's
wheel, and bringing the water up to the very lips of Tantalus!
Mark, also, how quickly Thucydides, who is very sparing {66b} of his
descriptions, breaks off when he gives an account of any military
machine, explains the manner of a siege, even though it be ever so
useful and necessary, or describes cities or the port of Syracuse.
Even in his narrative of the plague which seems so long, if you
consider the multiplicity of events, you will find he makes as much
haste as possible, and omits many circumstances, though he was
obliged to retain so many more.

When it is necessary to make any one speak, you must take care to
let him say nothing but what is suitable to the person, and to what
he speaks about, and let everything be clear and intelligible:
here, indeed, you may be permitted to play the orator, and show the
power of eloquence. With regard to praise, or dispraise, you cannot