124 ARISTOPHANES.

Strep. “Well, give me a honey-cake. I feel as if
I was going down into the cave of Trophonius,”

After a while Socrates came out again, loudly
complaining of the ignorance, stupidity, and forget-
fulness of his new pupil. He had no sooner learnt
a little subtlety than he forgot it. However, he was
willing to try once more. Accordingly he proceeded
to instruct him in various questions of prosody and
grammar. All, however, was to no purpose. The
old man remained hopelessly dense. As a last
resource the teacher ordered him to lie down on a
couch with which he had been provided, wrap him-
self closely up, and proceed to think. “If you get
anywhere,” he said, “whence you can’t get out,
then lightly leap to some other notion of the soul.”

Strep. “Oh! oh!”

Clouds. “What is the matter?”

Strep. “Oh, the fleas are coming out of the mat-
tress and biting me.”

Clouds. “ Don’t trouble.”

Strep. “How can I help it? My money is gone,
and my skin is gone, and my life is gone, yes, and
my shoes, too.”

Soc. “Are you not thinking?”

Strep. “Yes; indeed I am.”

Soc. “ What about?”

Strep. “Whether the fleas will leave anything of
me.”

Soc. “Don’t be a coward; wrap yourself up and
think.” .