e that cry for help, when ye sit here
together? There is one that must first come,

--One who will make you laugh once more, a good jovial buffoon, a
dancer, a wind, a wild romp, some old fool:--what think ye?

Forgive me, however, ye despairing ones, for speaking such trivial words
before you, unworthy, verily, of such guests! But ye do not divine WHAT
maketh my heart wanton:--

--Ye yourselves do it, and your aspect, forgive it me! For every one
becometh courageous who beholdeth a despairing one. To encourage a
despairing one--every one thinketh himself strong enough to do so.

To myself have ye given this power,--a good gift, mine honourable
guests! An excellent guest's-present! Well, do not then upbraid when I
also offer you something of mine.

This is mine empire and my dominion: that which is mine, however, shall
this evening and tonight be yours. Mine animals shall serve you: let my
cave be your resting-place!

At house and home with me shall no one despair: in my purlieus do I
protect every one from his wild beasts. And that is the first thing
which I offer you: security!

The second thing, however, is my little finger. And when ye have THAT,
then take the whole hand also, yea, and the heart with it! Welcome here,
welcome to you, my guests!"

Thus spake Zarathustra, and laughed with love and mischief. After this
greeting his guests bowed once more and were reverentially silent; the
king on the right, however, answered him in their name.

"O Zarathustra, by the way in which thou hast given us thy hand and thy
greeting, we recognise thee as Zarathustra. Thou hast humbled thyself
before us; almost hast thou hurt our reverence--:

--Who however could have humbled himself as thou hast done, with such
pride? THAT uplifteth us ourselves; a refreshment is it, to our eyes and
hearts.

To behold this, merely, gladly would we ascend higher mountains than
this. For as eager beholders have we come; we wanted to see what
brighteneth dim eyes.

And lo! now is it all over with our cries of distress. Now are our minds
and hearts open and enraptured. Little is lacking for our spirits to
become wanton.

There is nothing, O Zarathustra, that groweth more pleasingly on earth
than a lofty, strong will: it is the finest growth. An entire landscape
refresheth itself at one such tree.

To the pine do I compare him, O Zarathustra, which groweth up like
thee--tall, silent, hardy, solitary, of the best, supplest wood,
st