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What sort of men we were in life, Philosophy, you know right well, and I need not discuss that point at all; for who is not aware how much beauty was brought into life by Pythagoras here, Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus and the others, to say nothing of myself? I shall proceed to speak of the insults which, in spite of our merit, this double-dyed scoundrel Frankness has dealt us. He is a public speaker, they say: but abandoning the courts and the successes to be gained therein, he concentrated upon us all thé eloquence and power that he had acquired .in rhetoric, and not only unceasingly abuses us himself by calling us cheats and liars, but induces the public to laugh and sneer at us as if we amounted to nothing at all. More than that, he has at last made people actually hate you, Philosophy, as well as us by dubbing your doctrines stuff and nonsense and rehearsing in mockery all that is most serious in what you taught us, so as to get applause and praise from his audience for himself and contumely for us. The common sort are that way by nature; they delight in jesters and buffoons, and most of all when they criticise what is held in high reverence. Just so in days gone by they took delight in Aristophanes and Eupolis, who brought Socrates on the stage to make fun of him and got up monstrous farces about him. The playwrights, however, showed their boldness against only one man, and at the Dionysia, when it was’ permissible to do so, and the joking was considered part of the holiday, and The god, who loves his joke, no doubt was pleased.Author unknown.
