sion of human life is in this, and how it is that a man cannot
continue to live, when he comes once thus to reason and discourse in
himself: "Go to now, what am I? Am I a composition, made up of soul and
body; or rather a soul, serving itself and making use of the body, as an
horseman using his horse is not a subject composed of horse and man?
Or is every one of us the principal part of the soul, by which we
understand, infer, and act; and are all the other parts, both of soul
and body, only organs and utensils of this power? Or, to conclude, is
there no proper substance of the soul at all apart, but is only the
temperature and complexion of the body so disposed, that it has force
and power to understand and live?" But Socrates does not by these
questions overthrow human life, since all natural philosophers treat
of the same matter. But those perhaps are the monstrous questions and
inquiries that turn everything upside down, which are in Phaedrus,
(Plato, "Phaedrus," p. 230 A.) where he says, that every one ought
to examine and consider himself, whether he is a savage beast, more
cautelous, outrageous, and furious than ever was the monster Typhon; or
on the contrary, an animal more mild and gentle, partaking by Nature of
a certain divine portion, and such as is free from pride. Now by these
discourses and reasonings he overturns not the life of man, but drives
from it presumption and arrogance, and those haughty and extravagant
opinions and conceits he has of himself. For this is that monster
Typhon, which your teacher and master has made to be so great in you by
his warring against the gods and divine men.

Having done with Socrates and Plato, he next attacks Stilpo. Now as for
those his true doctrines and good discourses, by which he managed and
governed himself, his country, his friends, and such kings and princes
as loved him and esteemed him, he has not written a word; nor yet what
prudence and magnanimity was in his heart, accompanied with meekness,
moderation, and modesty. But having made mention of one of those little
sentences he was wont in mirth and raillery to object against the
sophisters, he does, without alleging any reason against it or solving
the subtlety of the objection, stir up a terrible tragedy against
Stilpo, saying that the life of man is subverted by him, inasmuch as he
affirms that one thing cannot be predicated of another. "For how," says
he, "shall we live, if we cannot style a man good, nor