_Cyn_. And is it in your power to unspin what they have spun?

_Zeus_. It is not.

_Cyn_. Shall I proceed, or is the inference clear?

_Zeus_. Oh, clear enough. But you seem to think that people
sacrifice to us from ulterior motives; that they are driving a
bargain with us, _buying_ blessings, as it were: not at all;
it is a disinterested testimony to our superior merit.

_Cyn_. There you are, then. As you say, sacrifice answers no
useful purpose; it is just our good-natured way of acknowledging
your superiority. And mind you, if we had a sophist here, he would
want to know all about that superiority. You are our fellow slaves,
he would say; if the Fates are our mistresses, they are also yours.
Your immortality will not serve you; that only makes things worse.
We mortals, after all, are liberated by death: but for you there is
no end to the evil; that long thread of yours means eternal
servitude.

_Zeus_. But this eternity is an eternity of happiness; the
life of Gods is one round of blessings.

_Cyn_. Not all Gods' lives. Even in Heaven there are distinctions,
not to say mismanagement. _You_ are happy, of course: you are king,
and you can haul up earth and sea as it were a bucket from the
well. But look at Hephaestus: a cripple; a common blacksmith. Look
at Prometheus: _he_ gets nailed up on Caucasus. And I need not