Strep. No; by Jupiter, certainly not!

Soc. Nothing at all?

Strep. Nothing, except what I have in my right hand.

Soc. Will you not quickly cover yourself up and think of
something?

Strep. About what? For do you tell me this, O Socrates!

Soc. Do you, yourself, first find out and state what you
wish.

Strep. You have heard a thousand times what I wish.
About the interest; so that I may pay no one.

Soc. Come then, wrap yourself up, and having given your
mind play with subtilty, revolve your affairs by little
and little, rightly distinguishing and examining.

Strep. Ah me, unhappy man!

Soc. Keep quiet; and if you be puzzled in any one of
your conceptions, leave it and go; and then set your
mind in motion again, and lock it up.

Strep. (in great glee). O dearest little Socrates!