Zeus the Tragedian (16-20)

Well, revolving this in my mind, I turned up near the Painted Porch, and there I saw a great crowd of men gathered, some inside the porch itself, but most of them in the open air, and some were shouting, stretched out on the benches. I guessed what was the case: that they were philosophers of the eristic order, and I determined to stand by and listen to what they might say. I happened to have a cloud wrapped round me—a thick one-so I took on an exterior of their sort, drew forth my beard, and presented no bad imitation of a philosopher. And so I elbowed my way through the crowd and got inside without being recognized, and I found a violent controversy going on between that fox Damis the Epicurean and Timokles the Stoic, the best of men. Timokles was in a perspiration, and had lost his voice already with screaming, and Damis was exasperating him still further by sardonic mockery. Now, if you will believe it, their whole discussion was about us. Damis (confound him) declared that we have no forethought for men or guardianship of their affairs, asserting that we do not exist at all, for this was plainly the purport

But the other, Timokles, took our side and fought for us, and excited himself, and did his best for us, praising our watchful care, and rehearsing how all things are arranged and reduced to regularity and order by us. He, too, had some applause, but he had already been speaking too long and his utterance was labored, so that the crowd looked away from him to Damis. Seeing what was at stake, I bade the night descend and break up the meeting, and so they went their ways, agreeing to examine the question completely the next day. I followed along with the crowd, and heard them praising Damis's arguments among themselves as they walked home, and already decidedly siding with him. But there were some, too, who did not think it right to decide beforehand between the rivals, but to wait and see what Timokles would say on the morrow.

These, deities, are my reasons for summoning you; no slight ones, if you consider that all our honor, revenue, and prestige come from men. And if they should be persuaded either that we do not exist at all or that we have no forethought for them, we shall have no more sacrifices and gifts and honor from earth, and we shall sit idly in heaven oppressed by hunger when we are deprived of those feasts and national holidays and games and sacrifices and vigils and processions.

Hear ye, silence! Make no disturbance! Who wishes to speak, of those full-grown divinities whose right it is? What is this? Does no one rise? They are all silent, overwhelmed by the importance of the news.