lippus's back-handed
compliment to the showman, it reminds one of Peter Quince's
commendation of Bottom: "Yea and the best person too; and he is a
very paramour for a sweet voice."

(17) It is not easy to keep pace with the merryman's jests; but if I
follow his humour, he says to Socrates: "If the cap is to fit, you
must liken me to one who quits 'assault and battery' for
'compliments (sotto voce, "lies") and flattery.'"

Soc. Why now, you are like a person apt to pick a quarrel, since you
imply they are all his betters. (18)

(18) When Socrates says {ei pant' autou beltio phes einai, k.t.l.},
the sense seems to be: "No, if you say that all these prime
creatures are better than he is, you are an abusive person still."

Phil. What, would you have me then compare him to worse villains?

Soc. No, not even to worse villains.

Phil. What, then, to nothing, and to nobody?

Soc. To nought in aught. Let him remain his simple self--

Phil. Incomparable. But if my tongue is not to wag, whatever shall I do
to earn my dinner?

Soc. Why, that you shall quite easily, if with your wagging tongue you
do not try to utter things unutterable.

Here was a pretty quarrel over wine soon kindled and soon burnt.

VII

But on the instant those who had not assisted in the fray gave tongue,
the one part urging the jester to proceed with his comparisons, and the
other part dissuading.

The voice of Socrates was heard above the tumult: Since we are all so
eager to be heard at once, what fitter time than now to sing a song, in
chorus.

And suiting the action to the words, he commenced a stave.

The song was barely finished, when a potter's wheel was brought in, on
which the dancing-girl was to perform more wonders.

At this point Socrates addressed the man of Syracuse: It seems I am
likely to deserve the title which you gave me of a thinker in good
earnest. Just now I am speculating by what means your boy and girl may
pass a happy time, and we spectators still derive the greatest pleasure
from beholding them; and this, I take it, is precisely what you would
yourself most wish. Now I maintain, that throwing somersaults in and out
of swords is a display of danger uncongenial to a banquet. And as for
writing and reading on a wheel that all the while keeps whirling, I do
not deny the wonder of it, but what pleasure such a marvel can present,
I cannot for the life of me discover. Nor do I see how