SOCRATES: Their laughter, friend Euthyphro, is not a matter of much
consequence. For a man may be thought wise; but the Athenians, I suspect,
do not much trouble themselves about him until he begins to impart his
wisdom to others, and then for some reason or other, perhaps, as you say,
from jealousy, they are angry.

EUTHYPHRO: I am never likely to try their temper in this way.

SOCRATES: I dare say not, for you are reserved in your behaviour, and
seldom impart your wisdom. But I have a benevolent habit of pouring out
myself to everybody, and would even pay for a listener, and I am afraid
that the Athenians may think me too talkative. Now if, as I was saying,
they would only laugh at me, as you say that they laugh at you, the time
might pass gaily enough in the court; but perhaps they may be in earnest,
and then what the end will be you soothsayers only can predict.

EUTHYPHRO: I dare say that the affair will end in nothing, Socrates, and
that you will win your cause; and I think that I shall win my own.

SOCRATES: And what is your suit, Euthyphro? are you the pursuer or the
defendant?

EUTHYPHRO: I am the pursuer.

SOCRATES: Of whom?

EUTHYPHRO: You will think me mad when I tell you.

SOCRATES: Why, has the fugitive wings?