Her. A drunken brawl, in my poor judgment, is annoyance caused to
people over wine.

Soc. Are you aware that you at present are annoying us by silence?

Her. What, whilst you are talking?

Soc. No, when we pause a while.

Her. Then you have not observed that, as to any interval between your
talk, a man would find it hard to insert a hair, much more one grain
of sense.

Then Socrates: O Callias, to the rescue! help a man severely handled
by his cross-examiner.

Call. With all my heart (and as he spoke he faced Hermogenes). Why,
when the flute is talking, we are as silent as the grave.

Her. What, would you have me imitate Nicostratus[1] the actor,
reciting his tetrameters[2] to the music of the fife? Must I discourse
to you in answer to the flute?

[1] See Cobet, "Pros. Xen." p. 53; and cf. Diog. Laert. iv. 3, 4;
Polyaen. vi. 10; "Hell." IV. viii. 18.

[2] See Aristoph. "Clouds," where Socrates is giving Strepsiades a
lesson in "measures," 639-646: {poteron to trimetron e to
tetrametron}.