wheat, from which the name is
derived, but in no matter whatever where the argument is conducted by
minute questions: for instance, if the question be whether a man is rich
or poor, illustrious or obscure,--whether things be many or few, great or
small, long or short, broad or narrow,--we have no certain answer to give,
how much must be added or taken away to make the thing in question either
one or the other.

But the sorites is a vicious sort of argument:--crush it, then, if you can,
to prevent its being troublesome; for it will be so, if you do not guard
against it. We have guarded against it, says he. For Chrysippus's plan is,
when he is interrogated step by step (by way of giving an instance),
whether there are three, or few, or many, to rest a little before he comes
to the "many;" that is to say, to use their own language, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ZETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}. Rest
and welcome, says Carneades; you may even snore, for all I care. But what
good does he do? For one follows who will waken you from sleep, and
question you in the same manner:--Take the number, after the mention of
which you were silent, and if to that number I add one, will there be
many? You will again go on, as long as you think fit. Why need I say more?
for you admit this, that you cannot in your answers fix the last number
which can be classed as "few," nor the first, which amounts to "many." And
this kind of uncertainty extends so widely, that I do not see any bounds
to its progress.

Nothing hurts me, says he; for I, like a skilful driver, will rein in my
horses before I come to the end, and all the more if the ground which the
horses are approaching is precipitous. And thus, too, says he, I will
check myself, and not reply any more to one who addresses me with captious
questions. If you have a clear answer to make, and refuse to make it, you
are giving yourself airs; if you have not, even you yourself do not
perceive it. If you stop, because the question is obscure, I admit that it
is so; but you say that you do not proceed as far as what is obscure. You
stop, then, where the case is still clear. If then all you do is to hold
your tongue, you gain nothing by that. For what does it matter to the man
who wishes to catch yo