"From on high," drips the star, and the gracious spittle; for the high, longs every starless bosom.
The moon has its court, and the court has its moon-calves: to all, however, that comes from the court do the mendicant people pray, and all appointable mendicant virtues.
"I serve, you serve, we serve"- so prays all appointable virtue to the prince: that the merited star may at last stick on the slender breast!
But the moon still revolves around all that is earthly: so revolves also the prince around what is earthliest of all- that, however, is the gold of the shopman.
The God of the Hosts of war is not the God of the golden bar; the prince proposes, but the shopman- disposes!
By all that is luminous and strong and good in you, O Zarathustra! Spit on this city of shopmen and return back!
Here flows all blood putridly and tepidly and frothily through all veins: spit on the great city, which is the great slum where all the scum froths together!
Spit on the city of compressed souls and slender breasts, of pointed eyes and sticky fingers-
-On the city of the obtrusive, the brazen-faced, the pen-demagogues and tongue-demagogues, the overheated ambitious:-
Where everything maimed, ill-famed, lustful, untrustful, over-mellow, sickly-yellow and seditious, festers perniciously:-
-Spit on the great city and turn back!-
Here, however, did Zarathustra interrupt the foaming fool, and shut his mouth.-
Stop this at once! called out Zarathustra, long have your speech and your species disgusted me!