Ah how shameless – the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone they say come all their miseries yes but they themselves with their own reckless ways compound their pains beyond their proper share.

Beyond his strength no man can fight, although he be eager.

For never, never, wicked man was wise.

The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.

Nothing feebler does earth nurture than man, Of all things breathing and moving.

By their own follies they perished, the fools.

There is satiety in all things, in sleep, and love-making, in the loveliness of singing and the innocent dance.