Letter 105: Your commands delighted me; your fear of imposing on me did not.
To Demetrius. (359/60)
By what you commanded of me, you gave me pleasure; but by fearing you might cause me trouble, you gave me pain — for you clearly do not know what sort of man I am when it comes to your household.
In fleeing from causing me grief, you have landed yourself in having caused it, and by declining my help when it was not the right moment, you now find yourself needing an apology, since your very refusal has become a charge against you. For my part, at your command I am ready to put my hand to anything, even if, as the saying goes, the water is already flowing past. Indeed, if you wished me to fly, I would not sprout wings — but I would be vexed at the impossibility and would reproach the present age for not revealing in me a second Daedalus.
As for what you now need done, the thing itself is, by its nature, perfectly easy; the man in question, however, is fond of delays. Still, one must not shrink from the attempt.
Related Letters
Nothing from you is small, precisely because it comes from you.
I need nothing from you but your letters.
Do not think my silence means I have forgotten you.
Your fine friend Bacchius has been separated from you and has not spent nearly enough time with me.
Here's how it happened: Hermogenes didn't slam the door shut like some savage -- he just fell idle.