make, shouting that perpetual cry, as they do,—"Divide, 'vide, 'vide the victims!" "Where's the nectar? where's the nectar?" "The ambrosia's all out! the ambrosia's all out!" "Where are the hecatombs? where are the hecatombs?" "Give us our share!"
Jup. Bid them hold their tongues, do, Mercury, that they may hear the object of the meeting, and let such nonsense alone.
Merc. But they don't all understand Greek, and I am no such universal linguist as to make proclamation in Scythian, and Persian, and Thracian, and Celtic. It will be best, I suppose, to make a motion with my hand for them to be silent.
Jup. Very well—do.
Merc. See, they're all as dumb as philosophers. Now's your time to speak. Do you see? they're all looking at you, waiting to hear what you're going to say.
Jup. (clearing his treat). Well, as you're my own son, Mercury, I don't mind telling you how I feel. You know how self-possessed and how eloquent I always am at public meetings?
Merc. I know I trembled whenever I heard you speak, especially when you used to threaten all that about wrenching up earth and sea from their foundations, you know, gods and all, and dangling that golden chain[1]———
- ↑ Lucian repeatedly brings forward, in these Dialogues, the gasconade which Homer put into the mouth of Jupiter, Il. viii. 18—
"A olden chain let down from heaven, and all,
Both gads and goddesses, your strength apply;
