Since I have made mention of the gods, I shall do very well to establish this as the standard after which a prince should model himself — that he should wish so to be to his subjects, as he would wish the gods to be to himself. Is it, then, desirable to have deities that cannot be moved to show mercy to our sins and mistakes? Is it desirable to have them our enemies even to the point of our complete destruction? And what king will escape the danger of having the soothsayers gather up his riven limbs?8 But if the gods, merciful and just, do not instantly avenge with the thunderbolt the shortcomings of the mighty, how much more just is it for a man, set over men, to exercise his power in gentle spirit and to ask himself which condition of the world is more pleasing to the eye and more lovely — when the day is calm and clear, or when all nature quakes with crash upon crash of thunder, and hither and yonder the lightnings flash? And yet the aspect of a quiet and well-ordered empire is not different from that of a calm and shining sky. A reign that is cruel is stormy and overcast with gloom, and, while men tremble and grow pale at the sudden uproar, even he who is the cause of all the turmoil does not fail to shudder. One in private life, if he stubbornly seeks revenge, is more easily pardoned; for it is possible for him to receive an injury, and his resentment springs from a sense of wrong; besides, he is afraid of being scorned, and, when one is injured, the failure to make requital seems a show of weakness, not of mercy. But the man for whom vengeance is easy, by disregarding it, gains assured praise for clemency. Those placed in lowly station are more free to use force, to quarrel, to rush into a brawl, and to indulge their wrath; when the odds are matched, blows fall light; but in a king, even loud speech and unbridled words ill accord with his majesty.