Ly. O ho, conduits—that is your subject, is it?
Lex. You mistake me; I said nothing of conduits; you are behind the times; incondite—'tis the word we use now when a thing lacks the finishing touches. But you are the deaf adder that stoppeth her ears.
Ly. I beg your pardon, my dear fellow; but conduit, incondite, you know. Well now, what is the idea of your piece?
Lex. A symposium, a modest challenge to the son of Ariston.
Ly. There are a good many sons of Aristons; but, from the symposium, I presume you mean Plato.
Lex. You take me; what I said could fit no other.
Ly. Well, come, read me a little of it; do not send me away thirsty; I see there is nectar in store.
Lex. Ironist, avaunt! And now open your ears to my charming; adder me no adders.
Ly. Go ahead; I am no Adam, nor Eve either.
Lex. Have an eye to my conduct of the discourse, whether it be fair in commencement, fair in speech, fair in diction, fair in nomenclature.