Par. No fear; they are quite light—about the weight of a gudgeon.
Diog. About the weight and about the wit. However, up with them.
Par. Look; what is this one? a sole? flat as a plate, thin as one of his own fillets; he gapes for the hook; down it goes; we have him; up he comes.
Diog. What is he?
Expo. His plateship would be a Platonist.
Pl. You too after the gold, villain?
Par. Well, Plato? what shall we do with him?
Pl. Off with him from the same rock.
Diog. Try again.
Par. Ah, here is a lovely one coming, as far as one can judge in deep water, all the colours of the rainbow, with gold bars across the back. Do you see, Exposure? this is the sham Aristotle. There he is; no, he has shied. He is having a good look round; here he comes again; his jaws open; caught! haul up.