No More Learning

Now and then,
when her dress came a little open by accident, I saw that she had on a
massive gold necklace heavier than a penal collar. That was enough for
me; I would retrace my steps, sincerely pitying the unfortunates whom
she led by the--beard, and their Ixion embracings of a phantom.

_Pl_. You are right there; the door is not conspicuous, nor generally
known. However, we need not go to her house; we will wait for her here
in the Ceramicus. I should think it is near her hour for coming back
from the Academy, and taking her walk in the Poecile; she is very
regular; to be sure, here she comes. Do you see the orderly, rather
prim lady there, with the kindly look in her eyes, and the slow
meditative walk?

_Lu_. I see several answering the description so far as looks and walk
and clothes go. Yet among them all the real lady Philosophy can be but
one.

_Pl_. True; but as soon as she opens her lips you will know.

_Philos_. Dear me, what are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle doing
up here, and the rest of them--a living dictionary of my teachings?
Alive again? how is this? have things been going wrong down there? you
look angry. And who is your prisoner? a rifler of tombs? A murderer? a
temple-robber?

_Pl_. Worse yet, Philosophy. He has dared to slander your most sacred
self, and all of us who have been privileged to impart anything from
you to posterity.

_Philos_. And did you lose your tempers over abusive words? Did you
forget how Comedy handled me at the Dionysia, and how I yet counted
her a friend? Did I ever sue her, or go and remonstrate? Or did I let
her enjoy her holidays in the harmless old-fashioned way? I know very
well that a jest spoils no real beauty, but rather improves it; so
gold is polished by hard rubs, and shines all the brighter for it. But
you seem to have grown passionate and censorious. Come, why are you
strangling him like that?

_Pl_. We have got this one day's leave, and come after him to give him
his deserts. Rumours had reached us of the things he used to say about
us in his lectures.

_Philos_. And are you going to kill him without a trial or a hearing?
I can see he wishes to say something.

_Pl_. No; we decided to refer it all to you. If you will accept the
task, the decision shall be yours.

_Philos_. Sir, what is your wish?

_Lu_. The same, dear Mistress; for none but you can find the truth. It
cost me much entreaty to get the case reserved for you.

_Pl_. You call her Mistress now, scoundrel; the other day you were
making out Philosophy the meanest of things, when before that great
audience you let her several doctrines go for a pitiful threepence
apiece.

_Philos_. It may be that it was not Ourself he then reviled, but some
impostors who practised vile arts in our name.

_Pl_. The truth will soon come to light, if you will hear his defence.

_Philos_. Come we to the Areopagus--or better, to the Acropolis, where
the panorama of Athens will be before us.

Ladies, will you stroll in the Poecile meanwhile? I will join you when
I have given judgement.

_Lu_. Who are these, Philosophy? methinks their appearance is seemly
as your own.

_Philos_. This with the masculine features is Virtue; then there is
Temperance, and Justice by her side. In front is Culture; and this
shadowy creature with the indefinite complexion is Truth.

_Lu_. I do not see which you mean.

_Philos_. Not see her? over there, all naked and unadorned, shrinking
from observation, and always slipping out of sight.

_Lu_. Now I just discern her. But why not bring them all with you?
there would be a fullness and completeness about that commission. Ah
yes, and I should like to brief Truth on my behalf.

_Philos_. Well thought of; come, all of you; you will not mind sitting
through a single case--in which we have a personal interest, too?

_Truth_. Go on, the rest of you; it is superfluous for me to hear what
I know all about before.

_Philos_. But, Truth dear, your presence will be useful to us; you
will show us what to think.

_Truth_. May I bring my two favourite maids, then?

_Philos_. And as many more as you like.

_Truth_. Come with me, Freedom and Frankness; this poor little adorer
of ours is in trouble without any real reason; we shall be able to get
him out of it. Exposure, my man, we shall not want you.

_Lu_. Ah yes, Mistress, let us have him, of all others; my opponents
are no ordinary ruffians; they are people who make a fine show and are
hard to expose; they have always some back way out of a difficulty; we
must have Exposure.

_Philos_. Yes, we must, indeed; and you had better bring Demonstration
too.

_Truth_. Come all of you, as you are such important legal persons.

_Ar_. What is this? Philosophy, he is employing Truth against us!

_Philos_. And are Plato and Chrysippus and Aristotle afraid of her
lying on his behalf, being who she is?

_Pl_. Oh, well, no; only he is a sad plausible rogue; he will take her
in.

_Philos_. Never fear; no wrong will be done, with madam Justice on the
bench by us. Let us go up.

Prisoner, your name?

_Lu_. Parrhesiades, son of Alethion, son of Elanxicles. [Footnote: i e
Free-speaker, son of Truthful, son of Exposure. ]

_Philos_. And your country?

_Lu_. I am a Syrian from the Euphrates, my lady. But is the question
relevant? Some of my accusers I know to be as much barbarians by blood
as myself; but character and culture do not vary as a man comes from
Soli or Cyprus, Babylon or Stagira. However, even one who could not
talk Greek would be none the worse in your eyes, so long as his
sentiments were right and just.

_Philos_. True, the question was unnecessary.

But what is your profession? that at least is essential.

_Lu_. I profess hatred of pretension and imposture, lying, and pride;
the whole loathsome tribe of them I hate; and you know how numerous
they are.

_Philos_. Upon my word, you must have your hands full at this
profession!

_Lu_. I have; you see what general dislike and danger it brings upon
me. However, I do not neglect the complementary branch, in which love
takes the place of hate; it includes love of truth and beauty and
simplicity and all that is akin to love. But the subjects for this
branch of the profession are sadly few; those of the other, for whom
hatred is the right treatment, are reckoned by the thousand. Indeed
there is some danger of the one feeling being atrophied, while the
other is over-developed.

_Philos_. That should not be; they run in couples, you know. Do not
separate your two branches; they should have unity in diversity.

_Lu_. You know better than I, Philosophy. My way is just to hate a
villain, and love and praise the good.

_Philos_. Well, well. Here we are at the appointed place. We will hold
the trial in the forecourt of Athene Polias. Priestess, arrange our
seats, while we salute the Goddess.

_Lu_. Polias, come to my aid against these pretenders, mindful of the
daily perjuries thou hearest from them. Their deeds too are revealed
to thee alone, in virtue of thy charge. Thou hast now thine hour of
vengeance. If thou see me in evil case, if blacks be more than whites,
then cast thou thy vote and save me!

_Philos_. So. Now we are seated, ready to hear your words. Choose one
of your number, the best accuser you may, make your charge, and bring
your proofs. Were all to speak, there would be no end. And you,
Parrhesiades, shall afterwards make your defence.

_Ch_. Plato, none of us will conduct the prosecution better than you.
Your thoughts are heaven-high, your style the perfect Attic; grace and
persuasion, insight and subtlety, the cogency of well-ordered proof--
all these are gathered in you. Take the spokesman's office and say
what is fitting on our behalf. Call to memory and roll in one all that
ever you said against Gorgias, Polus, Hippias, Prodicus; you have now
to do with a worse than them. Let him taste your irony; ply him with
your keen incessant questions; and if you will, perorate with the
mighty Zeus charioting his winged car through Heaven, and grudging if
this fellow get not his deserts.

_Pl_. Nay, nay; choose one of more strenuous temper--Diogenes,
Antisthenes, Crates, or yourself, Chrysippus. It is no time now for
beauty or literary skill; controversial and forensic resource is what
we want. This Parrhesiades is an orator.

_Diog_. Let me be accuser; no need for long speeches here. Moreover, I
was the worst treated of all; threepence was my price the other day.

_Pl_. Philosophy, Diogenes will speak for us. But mind, friend, you
are not to represent yourself alone, but think of us all. If we have
any private differences of doctrine, do not go into that; never mind
now which of us is right, but keep your indignation for Philosophy's
wrongs and the names he has called her. Leave alone the principles we
differ about, and maintain what is common to us all. Now mark, you
stand for us all; on you our whole fame depends; shall it come out
majestic, or in the semblance he has given it?

_Diog_. Never fear; nothing shall be omitted; I speak for all.
Philosophy may be softened by his words--she was ever gentle and
forgiving--_she_ may be minded to acquit him; but the fault shall
not be mine; I will show him that our staves are more than ornaments.

_Philos_. Nay, take not that way; words, not bludgeons; 'tis better
so. But no delay now; your time-allowance has begun; and the court is
all attention.

_Lu_. Philosophy, let the rest take their seats and vote with you,
leaving Diogenes as sole accuser.

_Philos_. Have you no fears of their condemning you?

_Lu_. None whatever; I wish to increase my majority, that is all.

_Philos_. I commend your spirit. Gentlemen, take your seats. Now,
Diogenes.

_Diog_. With our lives on earth, Philosophy, you are acquainted; I
need not dwell long upon them. Of myself I say nothing; but
Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus, and the rest--who knows not
the benefits that they conferred on mankind? I will come at once,
then, to the insults to which we have been subjected by the thrice
accursed Parrhesiades. He was, by his own account, an advocate; but he
has left the courts and the fame there to be won, and has availed
himself of all the verbal skill and proficiency so acquired for a
campaign of abuse against us. We are impostors and deceivers; his
audiences must ridicule and scorn us for nobodies. Did I say
'nobodies'? he has made us an abomination, rather, in the eyes of the
vulgar, and yourself with us, Philosophy. Your teachings are
balderdash and rubbish; the noblest of your precepts to us he
parodies, winning for himself applause and approval, and for us
humiliation. For so it is with the great public; it loves a master of
flouts and jeers, and loves him in proportion to the grandeur of what
he assails; you know how it delighted long ago in Aristophanes and
Eupolis, when they caricatured our Socrates on the stage, and wove
farcical comedies around him. But they at least confined themselves to
a single victim, and they had the charter of Dionysus; a jest might
pass at holiday time, and the laughing God might be well pleased.

But this fellow gets together an upper-class audience, gives long
thought to his preparations, writes down his slanders in a thick
notebook, and uplifts his voice in vituperation of Plato, Pythagoras,
Aristotle, Chrysippus, and in short all of us; _he_ cannot plead
holiday time, nor yet any private grievance; he might perhaps be
forgiven if he had done it in self-defence; but it was he that opened
hostilities. Worst of all, Philosophy, he shelters himself under your
name, entices Dialogue from our company to be his ally and mouthpiece,
and induces our good comrade Menippus to collaborate constantly with
him; Menippus, more by token, is the one deserter and absentee on this
occasion.

Does he not then abundantly deserve his fate? What conceivable defence
is open to him, after his public defamation of all that is noblest? On
the public which listened to him, too, the spectacle of his condign
punishment will have a healthy effect; we shall see no more ridicule
of Philosophy. Tame submission to insult would naturally enough be
taken, not for moderation, but for insensibility and want of spirit.
Who could be expected to put up with his last performance? He brought
us to market like a gang of slaves, and handed us over to the
auctioneer. Some, I believe, fetched high prices; but others went for
four or five pounds, and as for me--confound his impudence,
threepence! And fine fun the audience had out of it! We did well to be
angry; we have come from Hades; and we ask you to give us satisfaction
for this abominable outrage.

_Resurgents_. Hear, hear! well spoken, Diogenes; well and loyally.

_Philos_. Silence in court! Time the defence. Parrhesiades, it is now
your turn; they are timing you; so proceed.

_Par_. Philosophy, Diogenes has been far indeed from exhausting his
material; the greater part of it, and the more strongly expressed, he
has passed by, for reasons best known to himself. I refer to
statements of mine which I am as far from denying that I made as from
having provided myself with any elaborate defence of them. Any of
these that have been omitted by him, and not previously emphasized by
myself, I propose now to quote; this will be the best way to show you
who were the persons that I sold by auction and inveighed against as
pretenders and impostors; please to concentrate your vigilance on the
truth or falsehood of my descriptions. If what I say is injurious or
severe, your censure will be more fairly directed at the perpetrators
than at the discoverer of such iniquities. I had no sooner realized
the odious practices which his profession imposes on an advocate--the
deceit, falsehood, bluster, clamour, pushing, and all the long hateful
list, than I fled as a matter of course from these, betook myself to
your dear service, Philosophy, and pleased myself with the thought of
a remainder of life spent far from the tossing waves in a calm haven
beneath your shadow.

At my first peep into your realm, how could I but admire yourself and
all these your disciples? there they were, legislating for the perfect
life, holding out hands of help to those that would reach it,
commending all that was fairest and best; fairest and best--but a man
must keep straight on for it and never slip, must set his eyes
unwaveringly on the laws that you have laid down, must tune and test
his life thereby; and that, Zeus be my witness, there are few enough
in these days of ours to do.

So I saw how many were in love, not with Philosophy, but with the
credit it brings; in the vulgar externals, so easy for any one to ape,
they showed a striking resemblance to the real article, perfect in
beard and walk and attire; but in life and conduct they belied their
looks, read your lessons backwards, and degraded their profession.
Then I was wroth; methought it was as though some soft womanish actor
on the tragic stage should give us Achilles or Theseus or Heracles
himself; he cannot stride nor speak out as a Hero should, but minces
along under his enormous mask; Helen or Polyxena would find him too
realistically feminine to pass for them; and what shall an invincible
Heracles say? Will he not swiftly pound man and mask together into
nothingness with his club, for womanizing and disgracing him?

Well, these people were about as fit to represent you, and the
degradation of it all was too much for me. Apes daring to masquerade
as heroes! emulators of the ass at Cyme! The Cymeans, you know, had
never seen ass or lion; so the ass came the lion over them, with the
aid of a borrowed skin and his most awe-inspiring bray; however, a
stranger who had often seen both brought the truth to light with a
stick. But what most distressed me, Philosophy, was this: when one of
these people was detected in rascality, impropriety, or immorality,
every one put it down to philosophy, and to the particular philosopher
whose name the delinquent took in vain without ever acting on his
principles; the living rascal disgraced you, the long dead; for you
were not there in the flesh to point the contrast; so, as it was clear
enough that _his_ life was vile and disgusting, your case was given
away by association with his, and you had to share his disgrace.

This spectacle, I say, was too much for me; I began exposing them, and
distinguishing between them and you; and for this good work you now
arraign me. So then, if I find one of the Initiated betraying and
parodying the Mysteries of the two Goddesses, and if I protest and
denounce him, the transgression will be mine? There is something wrong
there; why, at the Games, if an actor who has to present Athene or
Posidon or Zeus plays his part badly, derogating from the divine
dignity, the stewards have him whipped; well, the Gods are not angry
with them for having the officers whip the man who wears their mask
and their attire; I imagine they approve of the punishment. To play a
slave or a messenger badly is a trifling offence, but to represent
Zeus or Heracles to the spectators in an unworthy manner--that is a
crime and a sacrilege.

I can indeed conceive nothing more extraordinary than that so many of
them should get themselves absolutely perfect in your words, and then
live precisely as if the sole object of reading and studying them had
been to reverse them in practice. All their professions of despising
wealth and appearances, of admiring nothing but what is noble, of
superiority to passion, of being proof against splendour, and
associating with its owners only on equal terms--how fair and wise and
laudable they all are! But they take pay for imparting them, they are
abashed in presence of the rich, their lips water at sight of coin;
they are dogs for temper, hares for cowardice, apes for imitativeness,
asses for lust, cats for thievery, cocks for jealousy. They are a
perfect laughing-stock with their strivings after vile ends, their
jostling of each other at rich men's doors, their attendance at
crowded dinners, and their vulgar obsequiousness at table. They swill
more than they should and would like to swill more than they do, they
spoil the wine with unwelcome and untimely disquisitions, and they
cannot carry their liquor. The ordinary people who are present
naturally flout them, and are revolted by the philosophy which breeds
such brutes.

What is so monstrous is that every man of them says he has no needs,
proclaims aloud that wisdom is the only wealth, and directly
afterwards comes begging and makes a fuss if he is refused; it would
hardly be stranger to see one in kingly attire, with tall tiara,
crown, and all the attributes of royalty, asking his inferiors for a
little something more. When they want to get something, we hear a
great deal, to be sure, about community of goods--how wealth is a
thing indifferent--and what is gold and silver? --neither more nor less
worth than pebbles on the beach. But when an old comrade and tried
friend needs help and comes to them with his modest requirements, ah,
then there is silence and searchings of heart, unlearning of tenets
and flat renunciation of doctrines. All their fine talk of friendship,
with Virtue and The Good, have vanished and flown, who knows whither?
they were winged words in sad truth, empty phantoms, only meant for
daily conversational use.

These men are excellent friends so long as there is no gold or silver
for them to dispute the possession of; exhibit but a copper or two,
and peace is broken, truce void, armistice ended; their books are
blank, their Virtue fled, and they so many dogs; some one has flung a
bone into the pack, and up they spring to bite each other and snarl at
the one which has pounced successfully. There is a story of an
Egyptian king who taught some apes the sword-dance; the imitative
creatures very soon picked it up, and used to perform in purple robes
and masks; for some time the show was a great success, till at last an
ingenious spectator brought some nuts in with him and threw them down.
The apes forgot their dancing at the sight, dropped their humanity,
resumed their apehood, and, smashing masks and tearing dresses, had a
free fight for the provender. Alas for the _corps de ballet_ and the
gravity of the audience!

These people are just those apes; it is they that I reviled; and I
shall never cease exposing and ridiculing them; but about you and your
like--for there _are_, in spite of all, some true lovers of philosophy
and keepers of your laws--about you or them may I never be mad enough
to utter an injurious or rude word! Why, what could I find to say?
what is there in your lives that lends itself to such treatment? but
those pretenders deserve my detestation, as they have that of heaven.
Why, tell me, all of you, what have such creatures to do with you? Is
there a trace in their lives of kindred and affinity? Does oil mix
with water? If they grow their beards and call themselves philosophers
and look solemn, do these things make them like you? I could have
contained myself if there had been any touch of plausibility in their
acting; but the vulture is more like the nightingale than they like
philosophers. And now I have pleaded my cause to the best of my
ability. Truth, I rely upon you to confirm my words.

_Philos_. Parrhesiades, retire to a further distance. Well, and our
verdict? How think you the man has spoken?

_Truth_. Ah, Philosophy, while he was speaking I was ready to sink
through the ground; it was all so true. As I listened, I could
identify every offender, and I was fitting caps all the time--this is
so-and-so, that is the other man, all over. I tell you they were all
as plain as in a picture--speaking likenesses not of their bodies
only, but of their very souls.

_Tem_. Yes, Truth, I could not help blushing at it.

_Philos_. What say you, gentlemen?

_Res_. Why, of course, that he is acquitted of the charge, and stands
recorded as our friend and benefactor. Our case is just that of the
Trojans, who entertained the tragic actor only to find him reciting
their own calamities. Well, recite away, our tragedian, with these
pests of ours for dramatis personae.

_Diog_. I too, Philosophy, give him my need of praise; I withdraw my
charges, and count him a worthy friend.

_Philos_. I congratulate you, Parrhesiades; you are unanimously
acquitted, and are henceforth one of us.

_Par_. Your humble servant. Or no, I must find more tragic words to
fit the solemnity of the occasion:

Victorious might
My life's path light,
And ever strew with garlands bright!

_Vir_. Well, now we come to our second course; let us have in the
other people and try them for their insults. Parrhesiades shall accuse
them each in turn.

_Par_. Well said, Virtue. Syllogism, my boy, put your head out over
the city and summon the philosophers.

_Syl_. Oyez, oyez! All philosophers to the Acropolis to make their
defence before Virtue, Philosophy, and Justice.

_Par_. The proclamation does not bring them in flocks, does it? They
have their reasons for keeping clear of Justice. And a good many of
them are too busy with their rich friends. If you want them all to
come, Syllogism, I will tell you what to say.

_Philos_. No, no; call them yourself, Parrhesiades, in your own way.

_Par_. Quite a simple matter. Oyez, oyez! All who profess philosophy
and hold themselves entitled to the name of philosopher shall appear
on the Acropolis for largesse; 8 pounds, with a sesame cake, to each.
A long beard shall qualify for a square of compressed figs, in
addition. Every applicant to have with him, of temperance, justice,
and self-control, any that he is in possession of, it being clearly
understood that these are not indispensable, and, of syllogisms, a
complete set of five, these being the condition precedent of wisdom.

Two golden talents in the midst are set,
His prize who wrangles best amongst his peers.

Just look! the ascent packed with a pushing crowd, at the very first
sound of my 8 pounds. More of them along the Pelasgicum, more by the
temple of Asclepius, a bigger crowd still over the Areopagus. Why,
positively there are a few at the tomb of Talos; and see those putting
ladders against the temple of Castor and Pollux; up they climb,
buzzing and clustering like a swarm of bees. In Homeric phrase, on
this side are exceeding many, and on that

Ten thousand, thick as leaves and flowers in spring.

Noisily they settle, the Acropolis is covered with them in a trice;
everywhere wallet and beard, flattery and effrontery, staves and
greed, logic and avarice. The little company which came up at the
first proclamation is swamped beyond recovery, swallowed up in these
later crowds; it is hopeless to find them, because of the external
resemblance. That is the worst of it, Philosophy; you are really open
to censure for not marking and labelling them; these impostors are
often more convincing than the true philosophers.

_Philos_. It shall be done before long; at present let us receive
them.

_Platon_. Platonists first!

_Pyth_. No, no; Pythagoreans first; our master is senior.

_Stoics_. Rubbish! the Porch is the best.

_Peri_. Now, now, this is a question of money; Peripatetics first
there!

_Epic_. Hand over those cakes and fig-squares; as to the money,
Epicureans will not mind waiting till the last.

_Acad_. Where are the two talents? none can touch the Academy at a
wrangle; we will soon show you that.

_Stoics_. Not if we know it.

_Philos_. Cease your strife. Cynics there, no more pushing! And keep
those sticks quiet. You have mistaken the nature of this summons. We
three, Philosophy, Virtue, and Truth, are about to decide which are
the true philosophers; that done, those whose lives are found to be in
accord with our pleasure will be made happy by our award; but the
impostors who are not truly of our kin we shall crush as they deserve,
that they may no more make vain claims to what is too high for them.
Ha! you fly? In good truth they do, jumping down the crags, most of
them. Why, the Acropolis is deserted, except for--yes, a few have
stood their ground and are not afraid of the judgement.

Attendants, pick up the wallet which yonder flying Cynic has dropped.
Let us see what it contains--beans? a book? some coarse crust?

_Par_. Oh dear no. Here is gold; some scent; a mirror; dice.

_Philos_. Ah, good honest man! such were his little necessaries for
the philosophic life, such his title to indulge in general abuse and
instruct his neighbours.

_Par_. There you have them. The problem before you is, how the general
ignorance is to be dispersed, and other people enabled to discriminate
between the genuine and the other sort. Find the solution, Truth; for
indeed it concerns you; Falsehood must not prevail; shall Ignorance
shield the base while they counterfeit the good, and you never know
it?

_Truth_. I think we had better give Parrhesiades this commission; he
has been shown an honest man, our friend and your true admirer,
Philosophy. Let him take Exposure with him and have interviews with
all who profess philosophy; any genuine scion that he finds let him
crown with olive and entertain in the Banqueting Hall; and for the
rascals--ah, how many! --who are only costume philosophers, let him
pull their cloaks off them, clip their beards short with a pair of
common goatshears, and mark their foreheads or brand them between the
eyebrows; the design on the branding iron to be a fox or an ape.

_Philos_. Well planned, Truth. And, Parrhesiades, here is a test for
you; you know how young eagles are supposed to be tested by the sun;
well, our candidates have not got to satisfy us that they can look at
light, of course; but put gold, fame, and pleasure before their eyes;
when you see one remain unconscious and unattracted, there is your man
for the olive; but when one looks hard that way, with a motion of his
hand in the direction of the gold, first off with his beard, and then
off with him to the brander.

_Par_. I will follow your instructions, Philosophy; you will soon find
a large majority ornamented with fox or ape, and very few with olive.
If you like, though, I will get some of them up here for you to see.

_Philos_. What do you mean? bring them back after that stampede?

_Par_. Oh yes, if the priestess will lend me the line I see there and
the Piraean fisherman's votive hook; I will not keep them long.

_Priestess_. You can have them; and the rod to complete the equipment.

_Par_. Thanks; now quickly, please, a few dried figs and a handful of
gold.

_Priestess_. There.

_Philos_. What _is_ all this about?

_Priestess_. He has baited his hook with the figs and gold, and is
sitting on the parapet dangling it over the city.

_Philos_. What _are_ you doing, Parrhesiades? do you think you are
going to fish up stones from the Pelasgicum?

_Par_. Hush! I wait till I get a bite. Posidon, the fisherman's
friend, and you, dear Amphitrite, send me good fishing!

Ah, a fine bass; no, it is not; it is a gilthead.

_Expo_. A shark, you mean; there, see, he is getting near the hook,
open-mouthed too. He scents the gold; now he is close--touching--he
has it; up with him!

_Par_. Give me a hand with the line, Exposure; here he is. Now, my
best of fishes, what do we make of you? _Salmo Cynicus_, that is what
_you_ are. Good gracious, what teeth! Aha, my brave fish, caught
snapping up trifles in the rocks, where you thought you could lurk
unobserved? But now you shall hang by the gills for every one to look
at you. Pull out hook and bait. Why, the hook is bare; he has not been
long assimilating the figs, eh? and the gold has gone down too.