that in defending Caius Cornelius "he had pleaded for four days." Hence
it cannot be questioned that after speaking somewhat discursively for
several days, as he was bound to do, he subsequently trimmed and revised
his oration and compressed it into a single book--a long one, it is
true, but yet a single book.

But, argues my friend, a good indictment is a different thing from a
good speech. I know some people hold that view, but I--of course I may
be wrong--feel persuaded that though it is possible to have a good
indictment without a good speech, it is not possible for a good speech
not to be a good indictment. For a speech is the exemplar of an
indictment--one might even call it its archetype. Hence in every first-
class oration we find a thousand extempore figures of speech, even in
those which we know to have been carefully edited. For example, in the
Speech against Verres:--"--some artist. What was his name? Yes, you
are quite right. My friends here tell me it was Polycletus." It
follows, therefore, that the most perfect indictment is that which most
resembles a spoken speech, provided only that sufficiently adequate time
is allowed for its delivery. If it is not, then the orator is not at
fault, but the presiding magistrate is very much to blame. My opinion
receives support from the laws, which are lavish in the amount of time
they place at a pleader's disposal. They do not inculcate brevity among
counsel, but exhaustiveness--that is to say, they give them time for a
painstaking statement of their case, and this is quite incompatible with
brevity, except the most unimportant actions. I will add also what
experience has taught me, and experience is the finest master. I have
constantly acted as counsel, as presiding magistrate, and as one of the
consulting bench. Different people are influenced by different things,
and it often happens that unimportant details have important
consequences. Men do not think alike, nor have they the same