ntending it--, the genuine ones are always rare, especially the genuine
actors.

Of man there is little here: therefore do their women masculinise
themselves. For only he who is man enough, will--SAVE THE WOMAN in
woman.

And this hypocrisy found I worst amongst them, that even those who
command feign the virtues of those who serve.

"I serve, thou servest, we serve"--so chanteth here even the hypocrisy
of the rulers--and alas! if the first lord be ONLY the first servant!

Ah, even upon their hypocrisy did mine eyes' curiosity alight; and well
did I divine all their fly-happiness, and their buzzing around sunny
window-panes.

So much kindness, so much weakness do I see. So much justice and pity,
so much weakness.

Round, fair, and considerate are they to one another, as grains of sand
are round, fair, and considerate to grains of sand.

Modestly to embrace a small happiness--that do they call "submission"!
and at the same time they peer modestly after a new small happiness.

In their hearts they want simply one thing most of all: that no one hurt
them. Thus do they anticipate every one's wishes and do well unto every
one.

That, however, is COWARDICE, though it be called "virtue."--

And when they chance to speak harshly, those small people, then do _I_
hear therein only their hoarseness--every draught of air maketh them
hoarse.

Shrewd indeed are they, their virtues have shrewd fingers. But they lack
fists: their fingers do not know how to creep behind fists.

Virtue for them is what maketh modest and tame: therewith have they made
the wolf a dog, and man himself man's best domestic animal.

"We set our chair in the MIDST"--so saith their smirking unto me--"and
as far from dying gladiators as from satisfied swine."

That, however, is--MEDIOCRITY, though it be called moderation.--

3.

I pass through this people and let fall many words: but they know
neither how to take nor how to retain them.

They wonder why I came not to revile venery and vice; and verily, I came
not to warn against pickpockets either!

They wonder why I am not ready to abet and whet their wisdom: as if they
had not yet enough of wiseacres, whose voices grate on mine ear like
slate-pencils!

And when I call out: "Curse all the cowardly devils in you, that
would fain whimper and fold the hands and adore"--then do they shout:
"Zarathustra is godless."

And especially do their teachers of submission shout this;--but
precisely