You now know the occasion of this meeting—no light one, ye Gods, if you reflect how entirely our dignity, our revenue, our ‘honour, depend on mankind. If they should accept as true either our absolute non-existence or, short of that, our indifference to them, farewell to our earthly sacrifices, attributes, honours; we shall sit starving and ineffectual in Heaven; our beloved feasts and assemblies, games and sacrifices, vigils and processions—all will be no more. So mighty is the issue; believe me, it behoves us all to search out salvation; and where lies salvation? In the victory and acceptance of Timocles, in laughter that shall drown the voice of Damis. For I doubt the unaided powers of Timocles, if our help be not accorded him.

make formal proclamation, and let the debate commence.

Hear, keep silence, clamour not. Of full and qualified Gods, speak who will. Why, what means this? Doth none rise?. Cower ye confounded at these momentous tidings?

Away, ye dull as earth, as water weak! But I could find plenty to say, Zeus, if free speech were granted me.

Speak, Momus, and fear not. You will use your freedom, surely, for the common good.

Hear, then, ye Gods; for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. You must know, I foresaw all this clearly—our difficulty—the growth of these agitators; it is ourselves who are responsible for their impudence; I swear to you, we need not blame Epicurus nor his friends and successors, for the prevalence of these ideas. Why, what can one expect men to think, when they see all life topsy-turvy—the good neglected, pining in poverty, disease, and slavery, detestable scoundrels honoured, rolling in wealth, and ordering their betters about, temple-robbers undetected and unpunished, the innocent constantly crucified and bastinadoed? With this evidence before them, it is only natural they should conclude against our existence.

All the more when they hear the oracles saying that some one The Halys crossed, o’erthrows a mighty realm, but not specifying whether that realm is his own or his enemy’s; or again O sacred Salamis, thou shalt slay Full many a mother’s son.

The Greeks were mothers’ sons as well as the Persians, I suppose. Or again, when they hear the ballads about our loves, our wounds, captivities, thraldoms, quarrels, and endless vicissitudes (mark you, we claim all the while to be blissful and serene), are they not justified in ridiculing and belittling us? And then we say it is outrageous if a few people who are not quite fools expose the absurdity and reject Providence; why, we ought to be glad enough that a few still go on sacrificing to blunderers like us.