At this point the scene becomes double; down below are the philosophers disputing in the Stoa, and up above are the gods, listening eagerly with occasional comments. Damis, you sacrilegious wretch, why do you say that the gods do not exist and do not show providence in behalf of men?

No, you tell me first what reason you have for believing that they do exist.

No, you tell me, you miscreant!

No, you!

So far our man is much better and more noisy in his bullying. Good, Timocles! Pile on your abuse; that is your strong point, for in everything else he will make you as mute as a fish.

But I swear by Athena that I will not answer you first.

Well then, put your question, Timocles, for you have won with that oath of yours. But no abuse, please.

Very well. Tell me then, you scoundrel, don’t you think the gods exercise any providence?

Not in the least.

What’s that you say? Then is all that we see about us uncared for by any providence?

Yes.

And the administration of the universe is not directed by any god?

No.

And everything drifts at random?

Yes.

Men, do you hear that and put up with it? Aren’t you going to stone the villain?

Why do you embitter men against me, Timocles? And who are you to get angry on behalf of the gods, especially when they themselves are not angry? They have done me no harm, you see, though they have listened to me long—if indeed they have ears.

Yes, they have, Damis, they have, and they will punish you some day in the hereafter.