Alas, alack! What an outcry the crowd made, deities, applauding Damis! And our man seems to have lost his head. He is frightened, certainly, and trembling, and on the point of throwing away his shield. He is already looking about for some loop-hole through which he can slip and make his escape.

Perhaps you do not think that Euripides says anything sound, either, when he introduces the gods themselves upon the stage and shows them engaged in saving the good among the heroes, but destroying the wicked and impiety like yours?

But, most illustrious of philosophers, if the dramatists have convinced you by such means as that, one of two things follows. Either you believe the actors to be for the moment gods, or else the divine masks themselves, and the shoes, and the tunics flowing to the feet, and the cloaks, and the loose sleeves, and the false paunches, and the padding, and all the rest of the apparatus which makes the tragedy impressive, which is most ridiculous, I think. But whenever Euripides speaks his own mind, unforced by the exigencies of the dramas, hear how bold he is: You see this boundless aether spread on high, Enfolding earth in damp, encircling arms? Deem then that this is Zeus, believe this god. and again, Zeus, Whoe'er Zeus is, for I know not, unless By hearsay, and other similar passages.

Then all mankind and the nations have been deceived in believing in the gods and celebrating their feasts?

It is a good thing, Timokles, that you reminded me of the religious opinions among the nations, the very things which best show that there is no certainty about gods. For there is much confusion, and different races have different faiths. The Scythians worship a sword; the Thracians, Zamolxis, a fugitive who came to them from Samos; the Phrygians, Mena; the Ethiopians, Day; the Assyrians, a dove; the Persians, fire; the Egyptians, water. Moreover, while this waterworship is common to all the Egyptians, the peculiar god of the people of Memphis is the bull, and that of the Pelusians is the onion; and others worship the ibis or the crocodile, and others a dog-headed creature or a cat or an ape. And, again, the rural communities differ from one another, so that some men hold the right shoulder to be a god, but those that dwell opposite to them the left. And some worship one side of the head, and others an earthen wine-cup or a bowl. Are not these things absurd, friend Timokles?

Did I not tell you, deities, that all these things would come to light and be rigorously investigated?

You did, Momos, and your censure was just; and if we escape this present danger, I for one will try to straighten out these matters.

But tell me, god-forsaken wretch, whose work would you call oracles and prophecies of future events, if not of the gods and their providence?

Hold your peace, my good fellow, on the subject of the oracles, for I shall ask you which of them in particular you would like to recall. Perhaps that one Apollo delivered to the Lydian, which was neatly double-edged and looked both ways, like some of the Hermae, which are exactly alike on both sides to whichever part of them you look. For tell me, will Croesus by crossing the Halys be more likely to overthrow his own kingdom or that of Cyros? And yet that Sardian pest paid no small sum for this reversible utterance.

The man is enumerating the very things I was most afraid of. Where now is our handsome harper? Go down and defend yourself against these charges of his.

You strike us when we are down, Momos, finding fault with us now, when the season is past.

Beware what you are doing, wretched Damis. You are all but overturning the very seats and altars of the gods with your arguments.

No, not all their altars, Timokles; for what harm do they do if they are full of incense and fragrance? But those of Artemis in Tauris I should be delighted to see turned upsidedown, whereon the maiden goddess feasts joyously on the things we wot of.

Whence has this overwhelming evil come upon us? There is not a divinity that the man stands in awe of. He speaks his mind as freely as a wench in a procession, and he Grasps them all in order, deserving and undeserving.

In truth, Zeus, you would find very few who do not deserve it among us. And surely the man will go on to lay hold of even the very greatest.

Perhaps you do not hear Zeus thundering, you fighter against the gods?

Of course I hear the thunder; but as to whether it is Zeus who thunders, your knowledge would be more reliable if you had come from somewhere up there among the gods. For travellers from Crete tell us a different story: that a certain tomb is shown in that country, and beside it stands a pillar telling that Zeus will thunder no more, being long since dead.

I knew long ago that the man was going to say that. But, Zeus, why have you turned pale? Why do you tremble so that your teeth chatter? You must take heart and despise such manikins.

What do you say, Momos? Despise them? Do you not see how large the audience is, and how they are persuaded against us already, and how Damis is leading them away with their ears stopped?

But, Zeus, if you liked you could let down a rope and Drag not them alone, but earth, too, and the ocean.