246 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III
I am Zarathustra, the ungodly. Where find I my like ? And all those are my like who give themselves a will of their own and renounce all submission.
I am Zarathustra, the ungodly. I have ever boiled every chance in mine own pot. And not until it hath been boiled properly, do I give it welcome as my meat.
And, verily, many a chance came unto me imperi- ously. But my will spake unto it still more so. Then the chance at once fell beseechingly upon its knees
Beseeching to be given a home and heart with me, and persuading me flatteringly : " Behold, O Zarathus- tra, how ever friend cometh unto friend ! "
But what say I where no one hath mine ears ! And thus I will proclaim it into all winds :
Ye become ever smaller, ye small folk ! Ye com- fortable ones, ye crumble away ! One day ye will perish
From your many small virtues, from your many small omissions, from your much small submission !
Too much sparing, too much yielding thus it is your soil ! But for the purpose of growing higli a tree will twist hard roots round hard rocks !
Even what ye omit weaveth at the weft of all manly future ; even your nothing is a spider's net and a spider living upon the blood of the future.
And when ye take anything, it is as if ye stole it, ye small virtuous. But even among rogues honour ordereth : " One shall steal only when one cannot rob."
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