Unjust A. Come now,—from what class do our lawyers spring?
Just A. Well—from the blackguards.
Unjust A. I believe you. Tell me
Again, what are our tragic poets?
Just A. Blackguards.
Unjust A. Good; and our public orators?
Just A. Blackguards all.
Unjust A. D'ye see now, how absurd and utterly worthless
Your arguments have been? And now look round—
(turning to the audience)
Which class amongst our friends here seems most numerous?
Just A. I'm looking.
Unjust A. Well;—now tell me what you see.
Just A. (after gravely and attentively examining the rows of spectators).
The blackguards have it, by a large majority.
There's one, I know—and yonder there's another—
And there, again, that fellow with long hair.
And amidst the roars of delighted laughter with which the Athenian "gallery" would be sure to receive this sally of buffoonery, the advocate of justice and morality declares that he throws up his brief, and joins the ranks of the dissolute majority.
The creditors of Strepsiades have not been quiescent meanwhile. We find him, in the next scene, calculating with dismay that it wants but five days to the end of the month, when debts and interest must be paid, or legal proceedings will be taken. He is come to the School, to inquire how his son gets on with his studies. Socrates assures him that his education is quite complete; that he is now furnished with a mode of argument which will win any lawsuit, and get him off
