he must acknowledge further, that they speak truly
who deny him to speak truly, which is a famous jest. And if he admits
that they speak truly who deny him to speak truly, he must admit that
he himself does not speak truly. But his opponents will refuse to admit
this of themselves, and he must allow that they are right in their
refusal. The conclusion is, that all mankind, including Protagoras
himself, will deny that he speaks truly; and his truth will be true
neither to himself nor to anybody else.

Theodorus is inclined to think that this is going too far. Socrates
ironically replies, that he is not going beyond the truth. But if the
old Protagoras could only pop his head out of the world below, he would
doubtless give them both a sound castigation and be off to the shades
in an instant. Seeing that he is not within call, we must examine the
question for ourselves. It is clear that there are great differences in
the understandings of men. Admitting, with Protagoras, that immediate
sensations of hot, cold, and the like, are to each one such as they
appear, yet this hypothesis cannot be extended to judgments or opinions.
And even if we were to admit further,--and this is the view of some who
are not thorough-going followers of Protagoras,--that right and wrong,
holy and unholy, are to each state or individual such as they appear,
still Protagoras will not venture to maintain that every man is equally
the measure of expediency, or that the thing which seems is expedient
to every one. But this begins a new question. 'Well, Socrates, we have
plenty of leisure. Yes, we have, and, after the manner of philosophers,
we are digressing; I have often observed how ridiculous this habit of
theirs makes them when they appear in court. 'What do you mean?' I mean
to say that a philosopher is a gentleman, but a lawyer is a servant.
The one can have his talk out, and wander at will from one subject
to another, as the fancy takes him; like ourselves, he may be long or
short, as he pleases. But the lawyer is always in a hurry; there is the
clepsydra limiting his time, and the brief limiting his topics, and his
adversary is standing over him and exacting his rights. He is a servant
disputing about a fellow-servant before his master, who holds the cause
in his hands; the path never diverges, and often the race is for his
life. Such experiences render him keen and shrewd; he learns the arts of
flattery, and is perfect in the practice of crook