All that, however, is as nothing, Gods.—You there, you dog-faced, linen-vested Egyptian, who are you, my fine fellow, and how do you make out that you are a god, with that bark of yours?

Anubis.

And with what idea does this spotted bull of Memphis

Apis.

receive homage and give oracles and have prophets? I take shame to mention ibises and monkeys and billy-goats and other creatures far more ludicrous that somehow or other have been smuggled out of Egypt into heaven. How can you endure it, Gods, to see them worshipped as much as you, or even more? And you, Zeus, how can you put up with it when they grow ram’s horns upon you?

Zeus Ammon.

All these points that you mention about the Egyptians are in truth unseemly. Nevertheless, Momus, most of them are matters of symbolism and one who is not an adept in the mysteries really must not laugh at them.

A lot we need mysteries, Zeus, to know that gods are gods, and dogheads are dogheads!

Never mind, I say, about the Egyptians. Some other time we shall discuss their case at leisure. Go on and name the others.

Trophonius, Zeus, and (what sticks in my gorge beyond everything) Amphilochus, who, though the son of an outcast and matricide,

Alcmaeon, son of Amphiaraus; he slew his mother Eriphyle, fled from Argos in frenzy, and never returned.

gives prophecies, the miscreant, in Cilicia, telling lies most of the time and playing charlatan for the sake of his two obols. That is why you, Apollo, are no longer in favour; at present, oracles are delivered by every stone and every altar that is drenched with oil and has garlands and can provide itself with a charlatan—of whom there are plenty. Already the statue of Polydamas the athlete heals those who have fevers in Olympia, and the statue of Theagenes does likewise in Thasos;

Polydamas, a gigantic pancratiast, was said to have killed lions with his bare hands and stopped chariots at full speed by laying hold of them. Pausanias (VI, 5, 1) mentions his statue at Olympia, made by Lysippus, but does not speak of its healing the sick. But about the Thasian statue of Theagenes, who won 1400 crowns as boxer, cratiast, and runner, and was reputed to be a son of Heracles, we hear not only from Pausanias (VI, 11, 6-9) but from Oenomaus (in Euseb., Praep. Evang., V, 34, 6-9) and Dio Chrysostom in his Rhodiaeus (XXXI, 95-97). After his death, when an enemy whipped the statue at night, it fell on him and killed him; so it was tried for murder, and flung into the sea. Harvests then failed, and after the reason had been elicited from Delphi, the statue, miraculously recovered by fishermen in their net, was set up where it had stood before, and sacrifices were thereafter offered before it “as to a god.” Pausanias adds that he knows that Theagenes had many other statues both in Greece and in “barbarian” parts, and that he healed sicknesses and received honours from the natives of those places. A very similar tale about the statue of another Olympic victor, the Locrian Euthycles, previously known only from Oenomaus (ibid., 10-11), can now be traced to the Iambi of Callimachus (Diegeseis, ed. Vitelli-Norsa, i, 37-ii, 8). And in Lucian’s Lover of Lies, 18-20 (III, 346, ff.) there is an amusing account of activities imputed to the statue of Pellichus, a Corinthian general.

they sacrifice to Hector in Troy and to Protesilaus on the opposite shore, in the Chersonese. So, ever since we became so numerous, perjury and sacrilege have been increasing, and in general they have despised us—quite rightly.