All men promise me their friends, their clients, their freedmen, their slaves, and even their money.

Our old body of aristocrats"-- Cato, Bibulus, and the makers of fish-ponds generally--"are wonderfully warm in my cause.

If any of these have heretofore been remiss, now they join our party from sheer hatred of these kings"-- the Triumvirs.

"Pompey promises everything, and so does Caesar, whom I only trust so far as I can see them." Even the Triumvirs promise him that he will be safe; but his belief in Pompey's honesty is all but gone.

"The coming Tribunes are my friends.