Mr. F.: It would seem so, and, when you put it that way, I can distinguish no essential difference.
Soc.: Very good: then we have established that it is fair for a boy to come to his study after breakfast, find in his hand a written translation of his Virgil, and, with that written translation, prepare in twenty minutes his morning's lesson.
Mr. F.: It would seem so, Socrates.
Soc.: If, however, he were to take from his drawer a printed translation of Virgil, and with that prepare his morning's lesson, you would consider him capable of dishonest behaviour and you would report him to the head master.
Mr. F.: Most certainly, Socrates.
Soc.: In what, then, lies the essential difference between the printed translation and the one that was copied out for him by his companion?
Mr. F.: But that is surely obvious.
Soc.: It is not to me, and it is for this reason that I seek enlightenment of you. For to me it seems that the work produced in form by the boy who has studied the printed translation is every bit as much the result of solitary and unaided labour as that which is informed by the study of a written translation. But is it that you appreciate a difference between the written and the printed word?
Mr. F.: Perhaps that is it, Socrates.
Soc.: Then would you allow a boy during the holidays to copy out one of Dr. Giles's aids to the classics?