12. They that sit in the gate speak against me. The ordinary gossips who meet at the city gates for idle talk make me
their theme, the businessmen who there resort for trade forget their
merchandise to slander me, and even the beggars who wait at people’s doors for
alms contribute their share of insult to the heap of infamy. And I was the song of the drunkard. The ungodly know no merrier jest than that in which
the name of the holy is traduced. The flavor of slander is piquant, and gives a
relish to the revelers’ wine. The character of the man of Nazareth was so far
above the appreciation of the men of strength to mingle strong drink, it was so
much out of their way and above their thoughts, that it is no wonder it seemed
to them ridiculous. The saints are ever choice subjects for satire. What a
wonder is here that he who is the adoration of angels should stoop to be the
song of drunkards!
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