Cicero to Atticus, written at Rome in the autumn of 56 BC, after the Luca conference and as the consular elections for 55 are taking shape. Four short, hurried sections of close-mouthed political gossip, the kind of letter that cannot be entrusted to a doubtful carrier (compare the cautious opening of Fam. 1.7).

Section 1 turns on a piece of news Atticus has just sent: someone — almost certainly Pompey or one of the triumviral candidates — is uncertain whether to bring forward his law. Cicero asks for clarification. The added day to the games will be spent at home with Dionysius (the freedman tutor). Section 2 is the most quoted: the comparison of L. Domitius Ahenobarbus to a fig — “no fig was ever so like a fig” as his case is to Cicero’s own, in respect of: those bringing it, the surprise, the absence of viri boni; only one thing unlike, that Domitius deserves it. Then the famous epigram on his blocked candidacy: he has been consul-designate as many years as he is old, has more pages of future consuls in his calendar-tablets than of past ones — and what is more wretched than him, except the commonwealth, in which not even any better is hoped?

Section 3 chases the small mystery of Fabius Luscus, who has been at Rome and has not visited Cicero — a small withdrawal, but it strikes (percussit animum) because Fabius had been a useful informant on the Firmian brothers. Section 4 closes on Atticus’s standing political advice: [Greek: politik\=os me geram et t\=en es\=o gramm\=en teneam] — bear yourself with political prudence and keep the inner line. The chariot-racing metaphor of hugging the post is the perfect image for the Cicero of the post-Luca months: stay clear of the danger zone. Send word about everything every day; and when there is nothing to send word of, send that very thing.