Some hungry, some crazy, but all of them cheats.
Impostors! who vaunt that to others they’ll show
A path, which themselves neither travel nor know.
Since they promise us wealth, if we pay for their pains,
Let them take from that wealth, and bestow what remains.”
“Yes! there are gods; but they no thought bestow
On human deeds—on mortal bliss or woe—
Else would such ills our wretched race assail?
Would the good suffer?—would the bad prevail?”
“‘Eurydice, my sister,’ thus she spoke,