“You wish to do good, then,” I continue; “in what particular respect? tell me, that I too may hasten to your lecture-room. But can a man impart good to others without having previously received good himself? “No: just as a man is of no use to us in the way of carpentering unless he is himself a carpenter. “Would you like to know, then, whether you have received good yourself? Bring me your convictions, philosopher. (Let us take an example.) Did you not the other day praise so-and-so more than you really thought he deserved? Did you not flatter that senator’s son?—and yet you would not like your own sons to be like him, would you? “God forbid! “Then why did you flatter him and toady to him? “He is a clever young fellow, and a good student. “How do you know that? “He admires my lectures. “Yes; that is the real reason. But don’t you think that these very people despise you in their secret hearts? I mean that when a man who is conscious that he has neither done nor thought any single good thing, finds a philosopher who tells him that he is a man of great ability, sincerity, and genuineness, of course he says to himself, ‘This man wants to get something out of me!’ Or (if this is not the case with you), tell me what proof he has given of great ability. No doubt he has attended you for a considerable time: he has heard you discoursing and expounding: but has he become more modest in his estimate of himself—or is he still looking for some one to teach him? “Yes, he is looking for some one to teach him. “To teach him how to live? No, fool; not how to live, but how to talk: which also is the reason why he admires you.... “[The truth is, you like applause: you care more for that than for doing good, and so you invite people to come and hear you.]