He talked much of contempt of orders; as if his prohibition of fighting were not dictated by the same motive, which caused his vexation at the fight having taken place.

He wished to shackle the valour of others through envy, and meant to take away the soldiers' arms when they were most eager for action, and that no use might be made of them in his absence: he was further enraged too, because without Lucius Papirius the soldiers were not without hands or arms, and because Quintus Fabius considered himself as master of the horse, not as a beadle to the dictator.

How would he have behaved, had the issue of the fight been unfortunate; which, through the chances of war and the uncertainty of military operations, might have been the case; since now, when the enemy has been vanquished, (as completely, indeed, as if that leader's own singular talents had been employed in the matter,) he yet threatens the master of the horse with punishment?
Nor is he more incensed against the master of the horse, than against the military tribunes, the centurions, and the soldiers.

On all, he would vent his rage if he could; and because that is not in his power, he vents it on one.

Envy, like flame, soars upwards; aims at the summit; that he makes his attack on the head of the business, on the leader.