The philosopher, with a toss of his beard, and a lifting of his light eyebrows, and the protrusion of his lower lip said:
“And pray, what has the profundity of Ascletarion alias Elymas beheld in the bottom of that well he terms his soul?”
“He has been able to see what is hidden from the shallowness of Claudius Senecio alias Spermologos[2] over the surface of which shallowness his soul careers like a water spider.”
“And that is, O muddiness?”
“Ill-luck, O insipidity.”
“Why so?—not, the Gods forfend, that I lay any weight on anything you may say. But I like to hear your vaticinations that I may laugh over them.”
“Hear, then. Because a daughter of Earth dared to set foot on the vessel consecrated to and conducted by Artemis before that the tutelary goddess had been welcomed by and had saluted the tutelary deity of the land.”
“I despise your prophecies of evil, thou crow.”
“Not more than do I thy platitudes, O owl!”
“Hearken to the words of the poet,” said the philosopher, and he started quoting the Œdipus Tyrannus: “The Gods know the affairs of mortals. But among men, it is by no means certain that a soothsayer is of more account than myself!” And Senecio snapped his fingers in the face of the Magus.