that it is an oven, and that it encompasses us, and that
we are the embers. These men teach, if one give them
money, to conquer in speaking, right or wrong.

Phid. Who are they?

Strep. I do not know the name accurately. They are
minute philosophers, noble and excellent.

Phid. Bah! They are rogues; I know them. You mean the
quacks, the pale-faced wretches, the bare-footed
fellows, of whose numbers are the miserable Socrates and
Chaerephon.

Strep. Hold! Hold! Be silent! Do not say anything
foolish. But, if you have any concern for your father's
patrimony, become one of them, having given up your
horsemanship.

Phid. I would not, by Bacchus, even if you were to give
me the pheasants which Leogoras rears!

Strep. Go, I entreat you, dearest of men, go and be
taught.

Phid. Why, what shall I learn?

Strep. They say that among them are both the two
causes--the better cause, whichever that is, and the
worse: they say that the one of these two causes, the