digression, not without a hint that the court wishes to dispatch.


XX. Who, at this time, would bear to hear an advocate introducing
himself with a tedious preface about the infirmities of his
constitution? Yet that is the threadbare exordium of Corvinus. We have
five books against Verres [a]. Who can endure that vast redundance?
Who can listen to those endless arguments upon points of form, and
cavilling exceptions [b], which we find in the orations of the same
celebrated advocate for Marcus Tullius [c] and Aulus Cæcina? Our
modern judges are able to anticipate the argument. Their quickness
goes before the speaker. If not struck with the vivacity of his
manner, the elegance of his sentiments, and the glowing colours of his
descriptions, they soon grow weary of the flat insipid discourse. Even
in the lowest class of life, there is now a relish for rich and
splendid ornament. Their taste requires the gay, the florid, and the
brilliant. The unpolished style of antiquity would now succeed as ill
at the bar, as the modern actor who should attempt to copy the
deportment of Roscius [d], or Ambivius Turpio. Even the young men who
are preparing for the career of eloquence, and, for that purpose,
attend the forum and the tribunals of justice, have now a nice
discriminating taste. They expect to have their imaginations pleased.
They wish to carry home some bright illustration, some splendid
passage, that deserves to be remembered. What has struck their fancy,
they communicate to each other: and in their letters, the glittering
thought, given with sententious brevity, the poetical allusion that
enlivened the discourse, and the dazzling imagery, are sure to be
transmitted to their respective colonies and provinces. The ornaments
of poetic diction are now required, not, indeed, copied from the rude
obsolete style of Accius [e] and Pacuvius, but embellished with the