men to a century at the outside. As for me, I have only been helping you
to deduce results.

_Her_. No, no; it is just your way; you want to crow over me; you
detest philosophy--I cannot tell why--and poke fun at philosophers.

_Ly_. Hermotimus, I cannot show what truth is, so well as wise people like
you and your professor; but one thing I do know about it, and that is that
it is not pleasant to the ear; falsehood is far more esteemed; it is
prettier, and therefore pleasanter; while Truth, conscious of its purity,
blurts out downright remarks, and offends people. Here is a case of it:
even you are offended with me for having discovered (with your assistance)
how this matter really stands, and shown that our common object is hard of
attainment. Suppose you had been in love with a statue and hoped to win
it, under the impression that it was human, and I had realized that it was
only bronze or marble, and given you a friendly warning that your passion
was hopeless--you might just as well have thought I was your enemy then,
because I would not leave you a prey to extravagant and impracticable
delusions.

_Her_. Well, well; are we to give up philosophy, then, and idle our
lives away like the common herd?

_Ly_. What have I said to justify that? My point is not that we are
to give up philosophy, but this: whereas we are to pursue philosophy, and
whereas there are many roads, each professing to lead to philosophy and
Virtue, and whereas it is uncertain which of these is the true road,
therefore the selection shall be made with care. Now we resolved that it
was impossible out of many offers to choose the best, unless a man should
try all in turn; and then the process of trial was found to be long. What