The First Philippic

​Then again ourselves, then putting others on board in turn; and while these things are delayed, the object for which we are sailing out is lost beforehand. For we waste the time for action in preparing, and the opportunities of events do not wait for our slowness and insincerity. And the forces which we think we have available during the interval are proved at the very moments of crisis to be able to do nothing. And he has arrived at such a pitch of insolence as to send already such letters to the Euboeans.

​READING OF THE LETTER. Of these things read, men of Athens, most are true, as they ought not to be; nevertheless, they are perhaps not pleasant to hear. But if, whatever one passes over in speech so as not to cause pain, reality also will pass over, then one ought to harangue to please; but if the charm of words, if inappropriate, becomes a practical loss, it is shameful to deceive ourselves, and by putting off everything that is difficult, to fall behind all achievements, ​and not even to be able to learn this, that those who conduct war rightly must not follow events, but must themselves be ahead of events, and in the same way that one would expect a general to lead the armies, so also those who deliberate must lead events, in order that whatever they decide may be done, and they may not be forced to pursue occurrences.

​But you, men of Athens, though possessing the greatest power of all—triremes, hoplites, cavalry, revenue of money—have never up to the present day used any of these for what is necessary, and you fall nothing short of fighting Philip in the same way as barbarians box. For among them, the one who is struck always clings to the blow, and if one strikes elsewhere, his hands go there; but to guard himself or to look his opponent in the face, he neither knows how nor is willing.

​And you, if you hear that Philip is in Chersonese, vote to send help there; if in Pylae, there; if anywhere else, you run along with him up and down, and you are generaled by him; but you yourselves have deliberated nothing advantageous about the war, nor do you foresee anything before events, until you hear of something either already happened or happening. And these things were perhaps possible before; but now they have come to the very crisis, so that it is no longer permitted.

​And it seems to me, men of Athens, that some one of the gods, being ashamed for our city at what is happening, has cast this restless activity into Philip. For if, holding what he has conquered and seized beforehand, he wished to keep quiet and did nothing further, it would seem to me to satisfy some of you, from which we should have incurred shame and cowardice and all the most shameful things publicly; but now, by always attempting something and reaching out for more, he might perhaps call you forth, unless you have completely despaired.

​And I for my part wonder if no one of you either reflects or is angry, seeing, men of Athens, that the beginning of the war was about punishing Philip, but the end is already about not suffering harm from Philip. Yet indeed that he will not stop is clear, unless someone prevents him. Then shall we wait for this? And if you send out empty triremes and the hopes from so-and-so, do you think all is well?

​Shall we not embark? Shall we not go out ourselves with some part at least of our citizen-soldiers now, even if not before? Shall we not sail against his territory? ‘Where then shall we anchor?’ someone asked. The war itself, men of Athens, will find the rotten parts of his affairs, if we make the attempt; but if we sit at home, listening to the speakers abusing and accusing one another, never will any of the necessary things be done for us.