Powell 2006 contains critical editions of the Latin text of both On the Commonwealth and On the Laws; Ziegler 1969 and Ziegler 1979 edited them separately. Most of the continuous portions of On the Commonwealth are included in Zetzel 1995. Although I have relied on Ziegler and Powell for their reports of the manuscripts (which at times differ), this translation is based on my own construction of the Latin text. In On the Laws, I have generally followed Powell, whose edition is based on a better understanding of the manuscript tradition than Ziegler's; for On the Commonwealth, on the other hand, Powell's edition is very problematic. It is excellent in presenting words that are indubitably Cicero's own, and I have often followed his choices of reading, punctuation, and paragraphing. For those interested in Cicero's thought rather than his style, however, Powell is much less useful. Ziegler's text is not without problems, but his treatment of the fragments and testimonia as well as of the order of pages in the palimpsest is far superior to Powell's, and he is much more cautious – as is appropriate with a fragmentary text – in making arbitrary alterations and deletions. Ziegler's treatment of fragments and testimonia is at times confusing (or wrong), but Powell has arranged the material in a manner that makes it almost impossible to understand what Cicero is saying. The arrangement and presentation of the fragments is thus my own, but I have maintained Ziegler's numbering of paragraphs (which, at least for the palimpsest, is also reported by Powell), with the addition of lower-case letters to indicate separate fragments which Ziegler has grouped under a single paragraph number. The index of fragments, arranged by source, gives locations in Ziegler's and Powell's editions, and major textual differences from their editions are indicated in the notes.

ATTICUS: I recognize that grove and the oak tree of the people of Arpinum: I've read about them often in the Marius. If that oak tree survives, this must be it; it's certainly old enough.

QUINTUS: It survives, Atticus, and it will always survive: it's rooted in the imagination. No farmer's cultivation can preserve a tree so long as one sown in a poet's verse.

ATTICUS: How so, Quintus? What kind of thing do poets sow? In praising your brother, I suspect you're looking for a vote of praise for yourself.

QUINTUS: That's as may be; but as long as Latin literature has a voice, there will always be an oak right here called “Marius’,” and as Scaevola says about my brother's Marius, “it will grow old for countless generations.” But maybe you think your beloved Athens has been able to keep the olive tree on the Acropolis alive forever, or that the palm they show today on Delos is the same as the tall and slender tree that Homer's Ulysses says that he saw there: many other things in many places last longer in recollection than they could in nature. So let's assume that this “acorn-bearing oak” is the same as the one from which once flew off “the tawny messenger of Jove, seen in wondrous form.” But whenever a storm or old age destroys it, there will still be an oak right here which they will call “Marius’ oak.”

ATTICUS: I have no doubt about that. But this question isn't for you, Quintus, but for the poet himself: was it your verses that planted this oak, or had you learned that what had happened to Marius took place as you wrote it?

MARCUS: I'll give you an answer, Atticus, but not before you give me one: is it true that it was not far from your house that Romulus took a stroll after his death and told Proculus Iulius that he was a god and was named Quirinus, and ordered a temple to be dedicated to himself on that spot? And is it true that in Athens not far from your former home the North Wind snatched up Orithyia? – because that's what they say.

ATTICUS: What's your point? Why do you ask?

MARCUS: Just that you shouldn't look too closely at things passed down in stories of this kind.

<When he saw that everyone was> eager to hear him, SCIPIO began to speak as follows: I'll tell you something Cato said in his old age. As you know, I was deeply attached to him and admired him very greatly; following the judgment of both my fathers and my own desire, I devoted myself to him completely from an early age. I could never get enough of what he said: he had so much experience of public affairs, in which he'd taken part with great distinction for a very long time, both in civil and military matters; he was so measured in speaking, mixing wit with seriousness; and he was passionately fond of both learning and teaching. His life was in complete harmony with his speaking style. Cato used to say that the organization of our state surpassed all other states for this reason: in others there were generally single individuals who had set up the laws and institutions of their commonwealths – Minos in Crete, Lycurgus in Sparta, and in Athens, which frequently changed its government, first Theseus, then Draco, then Solon, then Clisthenes, then many others; finally, when Athens was drained of blood and prostrate, it was revived by a learned man, Demetrius of Phalerum. Our commonwealth, in contrast, was shaped not by one man's talent but by that of many; and not in one person's lifetime, but over many generations. He said there never was a genius so great that he could miss nothing, nor could all the geniuses in the world brought together in one place at one time foresee all contingencies without the practical experience afforded by the passage of time. So I will follow his model, and take my start from the origin of the Roman people; I'm happy to make use of Cato's own word. I'll have an easier time completing my task, if I show you our commonwealth as it's born, grows up and comes of age, and as a strong and well-established state, than if I make up some state as Socrates does in Plato.

When everyone had agreed, SCIPIO said: What beginning of any established commonwealth is so famous and universally known as the foundation of this city by Romulus?

Augustine, City of God 2.21: Thus, when the Roman commonwealth was in the condition that Sallust describes, it was no longer terrible and highly criminal, as he says, but altogether no commonwealth at all according to the argument set out in the discussion concerning the commonwealth held by the greatest leaders of the time. Cicero himself, speaking at the outset of the fifth book, not using the voice of Scipio or one of the others but in his own voice, first quoted the verse of the poet Ennius in which he said:

He then said: “That verse, in its brevity and its truthfulness, he seems to me to have spoken as if from an oracle. For if the state had not had such morals, then the men would not have existed; nor, if such men had not been in charge, would there have been such morals as to be able to establish or preserve for so long a commonwealth so great and ruling so widely. And so, before our time, ancestral morality provided outstanding men, and great men preserved the morality of old and the institutions of our ancestors. But our own age, having inherited the commonwealth like a wonderful picture that had faded over time, not only has failed to renew its original colors, but hasn't even taken the trouble to preserve at least its shape and outlines. What remains of the morals of antiquity, upon which Ennius said that the Roman state stood? We see that they are so outworn in oblivion that they are not only not cherished, but are now unknown. What am I to say about the men? The morals themselves have passed away through a shortage of men; and we must not only render an account of such an evil, but in a sense we must defend ourselves like people being tried for a capital crime. It is because of our own flaws, not because of some bad luck, that we preserve the commonwealth in name alone, but have long ago lost its substance.”

Fragments of the Preface