he exact words, but the meaning
is, that without buying them, and without their being given to him, he
carried off the oxen of Geryon, according to the law of natural right,
and that the oxen and other possessions of the weaker and inferior
properly belong to the stronger and superior. And this is true, as you
may ascertain, if you will leave philosophy and go on to higher things:
for philosophy, Socrates, if pursued in moderation and at the proper
age, is an elegant accomplishment, but too much philosophy is the
ruin of human life. Even if a man has good parts, still, if he carries
philosophy into later life, he is necessarily ignorant of all those
things which a gentleman and a person of honour ought to know; he is
inexperienced in the laws of the State, and in the language which ought
to be used in the dealings of man with man, whether private or public,
and utterly ignorant of the pleasures and desires of mankind and of
human character in general. And people of this sort, when they betake
themselves to politics or business, are as ridiculous as I imagine
the politicians to be, when they make their appearance in the arena of
philosophy. For, as Euripides says,

'Every man shines in that and pursues that, and devotes the greatest
portion of the day to that in which he most excels,' (Antiope, fragm. 20
(Dindorf).)

but anything in which he is inferior, he avoids and depreciates, and
praises the opposite from partiality to himself, and because he thinks
that he will thus praise himself. The true principle is to unite them.
Philosophy, as a part of education, is an excellent thing, and there
is no disgrace to a man while he is young in pursuing such a study; but
when he is more advanced in years, the thing becomes ridiculous, and
I feel towards philosophers as I do towards those who lisp and imitate
children. For I love to see a little child, who is not of an age to
speak plainly, lisping at his play; there is an appearance of grace and
freedom in his utterance, which is natural to his childish years. But
when I hear some small creature carefully articulating its words, I am
offended; the sound is disagreeable, and has to my ears the twang of
slavery. So when I hear a man lisping, or see him playing like a
child, his behaviour appears to me ridiculous and unmanly and worthy of
stripes. And I have the same feeling about students of philosophy; when
I see a youth thus engaged,--the study appears to me to be in character,