"Laugh at me as you will," he cried; "it is true. Socrates cannot deny it. The more wine a man has now, the more solemn he looks; until sometimes I think I have strayed to a funeral instead of to a feast. If I chose, I could be the greatest sophist of you all. I should teach you not only the knowledge of good, and truth, and virtue, but the knowledge of all things." "And how would you teach us, Philip?" said Socrates; "for this is precisely the knowledge which I have been seeking all my life. By the dog of Egypt, if you would teach me this I should ever afterwards obey you in all things. I have always had the greatest respect for you, Philip, but I did not think that philosophy was among your accomplishments." "Do you answer me, Socrates? and I shall prove it to you." "Willingly," said Socrates; "but I am afraid you are going to make me ridiculous. I have never pretended to be a sophist, nor, indeed, to know anything." Philip stood in the middle of the room, and the company all leant forward, looking at him with amusement. "Is knowledge the knowledge of something, or the knowledge of nothing?" he enquired of Socrates. "Of both," answered Socrates. "You will not escape me that way," exclaimed Philip. "Would you not rather say it is the knowledge of something, and the knowledge of not knowing other things?" "Very well, Philip." "Then there is a knowledge of knowing, and a knowledge of not knowing; and we know the things we know, and the things we do not know?" "That seems absurd," said Socrates. "What? Will you go back on the argument, Socrates, and say that knowledge is only the knowledge of something?" "Let us try that way then," Socrates said. "By Zeus, Socrates, that way will do as well as another," said Philip; "for if you know something you can distinguish it from other things, can you not?" "Yes." "You can distinguish one thing you know, from another thing you know; and both from what you do not know." "You have made me giddy, Philip. Let me think." "Well, Socrates, you can distinguish Euripides from Protagoras, can you not? And you can distinguish both these people whom you know, from the tyrant Archelaus, whom you do not know?" "Certainly; I must agree to that." "Then you can distinguish between something you know and something you do not know?" "Yes." "Consider a moment, Socrates. Is it possible for you to know the difference between one thing and another unless you know both things?" "Why, no! I must admit that," said Socrates. "Then mark where I lead you; for if you know the things you know, you must also know the things you do not know." Every one was now laughing immoderately; not only at Philip's dialectic, but at his pompous gestures, wherewith he mimicked many well-known sophists; blowing out his cheeks, pursing his lips, tapping his head suspiciously, and rubbing his nose. "By the dog of Egypt!" cried Socrates; "the man has been with Euthydemus."