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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?

This man had made common cause with a number of temple-robbers, had forced his way with them into the temple of Anubis, and robbed the God of a pair of golden cups, a caduceus, also of gold, some silver images of Cynocephali and other treasures; all of which the rest entrusted to Syrus's charge.

You must be jesting, Posidon; you cannot have forgotten that we have no say in the matter? It is the Fates that spin a man's thread, whether he be destined to the thunderbolt or the sword, to fever or consumption. If it had depended on me, do you suppose I should have let those temple-robbers get off unblasted from Pisa the other day? two of my curls shorn off, weighing half a dozen pounds apiece.

All destiny, of course. Zeus. Take care, Cyniscus: you are going too far. You will repent of this one day. Cyn. Spare your threats: you know that nothing can happen to me, except what Fate has settled first. I notice, for instance, that even temple-robbers do not always get punished; most of them, indeed, slip through your hands. Not destined to be caught, I suppose. Zeus.

What! you doubt that there are punishments and rewards to come? You doubt of that judgement-seat before which every soul is arraigned? Cyn. I have heard mention of a judge in that connexion; one Minos, a Cretan. Ah, yes, tell me about him: they say he is your son? Zeus. And what of him? Cyn. Whom does he punish in particular? Zeus. Whom but the wicked? Murderers, for instance, and temple-robbers.