Ly. Good morning, Hermotimus; I guess by your book and the pace you are going at that you are on your way to lecture, and a little late. You were conning1 over something as you walked, your lips working and muttering, your hand flung out this way and that as you got a speech into order in your mind; you were doubtless inventing one of your crooked2 questions, or pondering some tricky3 problem; never a vacant mind, even in the streets; always on the stretch and in earnest, bent4 on advancing in your studies.
Her. I admit the impeachment5; I was running over the details of what he said in yesterday’s lecture. One must lose no chance, you know; the Coan doctor 32 spoke6 so truly: ars longa, vita brevis. And what be referred to was only physic — a simpler matter. As to philosophy, not only will you never attain8 it, however long you study, unless you are wide awake all the time, contemplating9 it with intense eager gaze; the stake is so tremendous, too — whether you shall rot miserably10 with the vulgar herd11, or be counted among philosophers and reach Happiness.
Ly. A glorious prize, indeed! however, you cannot be far off it now, if one may judge by the time you have given to philosophy, and the extraordinary vigour12 of your long pursuit. For twenty years now, I should say, I have watched you perpetually going to your professors, generally bent over a book taking notes of past lectures, pale with thought and emaciated13 in body. I suspect you find no release even in your dreams, you are so wrapped up in the thing. With all this you must surely get hold of Happiness soon, if indeed you have not found it long ago without telling us.
Her. Alas14, Lycinus, I am only just beginning to get an inkling of the right way. Very far off dwells Virtue15, as Hesiod says, and long and steep and rough is the way thither16, and travellers must bedew it with sweat.
Ly. And you have not yet sweated and travelled enough?
Her. Surely not; else should I have been on the summit, with nothing left between me and bliss17; but I am only starting yet, Lycinus.
Ly. Ah, but Hesiod, your own authority, tells us, Well begun is half done; so we may safely call you half-way by this time.
Her. Not even there yet; that would indeed have been much.
Ly. Where shall we put you, then?
Her. Still on the lower slopes, just making an effort to get on; but it is slippery and rough, and needs a helping18 hand.
Ly. Well, your master can give you that; from his station on the summit, like Zeus in Homer with his golden cord, he can let you down his discourse19, and therewith haul and heave you up to himself and to the Virtue which he has himself attained20 this long time.
Her. The very picture of what he is doing; if it depended on him alone, I should have been hauled up long ago; it is my part that is still wanting.
Ly. You must be of good cheer and keep a stout21 heart; gaze at the end of your climb and the Happiness at the top, and remember that he is working with you. What prospect22 does he hold out? when are you to be up? does he think you will be on the top next year — by the Great Mysteries, or the Panathenaea, say?
Her. Too soon, Lycinus.
Ly. By next Olympiad, then?
Her. All too short a time, even that, for habituation to Virtue and attainment23 of Happiness.
Ly. Say two Olympiads, then, for an outside estimate. You may fairly be found guilty of laziness, if you cannot get it done by then; the time would allow you three return trips from the Pillars of Heracles to India, with a margin25 for exploring the tribes on the way instead of sailing straight and never stopping. How much higher and more slippery, pray, is the peak on which your Virtue dwells than that Aornos crag which Alexander stormed in a few days?
Her. There is no resemblance, Lycinus; this is not a thing, as you conceive it, to be compassed and captured quickly, though ten thousand Alexanders were to assault it; in that case, the sealers would have been legion. As it is, a good number begin the climb with great confidence, and do make progress, some very little indeed, others more; but when they get half-way, they find endless difficulties and discomforts26, lose heart, and turn back, panting, dripping, and exhausted27. But those who endure to the end reach the top, to be blessed thenceforth with wondrous28 days, looking down from their height upon the ants which are the rest of mankind.
Ly. Dear me, what tiny things you make us out — not so big as the Pygmies even, but positively29 grovelling30 on the face of the earth. I quite understand it; your thoughts are up aloft already. And we, the common men that walk the earth, shall mingle31 you with the Gods in our prayers; for you are translated above the clouds, and gone up whither you have so long striven.
Her. If but that ascent32 might be, Lycinus! but it is far yet.
Ly. But you have never told me how far, in terms of time.
Her. No; for I know not precisely33 myself. My guess is that it will not be more than twenty years; by that time I shall surely be on the summit.
Ly. Mercy upon us, you take long views!
Her. Ay; but, as the toil34, so is the reward.
Ly. That may be; but about these twenty years — have you your master’s promise that you will live so long? is he prophet as well as philosopher? or is it a soothsayer or Chaldean expert that you trust? such things are known to them, I understand. You would never, of course, if there were any uncertainty35 of your life’s lasting36 to the Virtue-point, slave and toil night and day like this; why, just as you were close to the top, your fate might come upon you, lay hold of you by the heel, and lug37 you down with your hopes unfulfilled.
Her. God forbid! these are words of ill omen38, Lycinus; may life be granted me, that I may grow wise, and have if it be but one day of Happiness!
Ly. For all these toils39 will you be content with your one day?
Her. Content? yes, or with the briefest moment of it.
Ly. But is there indeed Happiness up there — and worth all the pains? How can you tell? You have never been up yourself.
Her. I trust my master’s word; and he knows well; is he not on the topmost height?
Ly. Oh, do tell me what he says about it; what is Happiness like? wealth, glory, pleasures incomparable?
Her. Hush40, friend! all these have nought41 to do with the Virtuous42 life.
Ly. Well, if these will not do, what are the good things he offers to those who carry their course right through?
Her. Wisdom, courage, true beauty, justice, full and firm knowledge of all things as they are; but wealth and glory and pleasure and all bodily things — these a man strips off and abandons before he mounts up, like Heracles burning on Mount Oeta before deification; he too cast off whatever of the human he had from his mother, and soared up to the Gods with his divine part pure and unalloyed, sifted44 by the fire. Even so those I speak of are purged46 by the philosophic47 fire of all that deluded48 men count admirable, and reaching the summit have Happiness with never a thought of wealth and glory and pleasure — except to smile at any who count them more than phantoms49.
Ly. By Heracles (and his death on Oeta), they quit themselves like men, and have their reward, it seems. But there is one thing I should like to know: are they allowed to come down from their elevation51 sometimes, and have a taste of what they left behind them? or when they have once got up, must they stay there, conversing52 with Virtue, and smiling at wealth and glory and pleasure?
Her. The latter, assuredly; more than that, a man once admitted of Virtue’s company will never be subject to wrath53 or fear or desire any more; no, nor can he feel pain, nor any such sensation.
Ly. Well, but — if one might dare to say what one thinks — but no — let me keep a good tongue in my head — it were irreverent to pry54 into what wise men do.
Her. Nay55, nay; let me know your meaning.
Ly. Dear friend, I have not the courage.
Her. Out with it, my good fellow; we are alone.
Ly. Well, then — most of your account I followed and accepted — how they grow wise and brave and just, and the rest — indeed I was quite fascinated by it; but then you went on to say they despised wealth and glory and pleasure; well, just there (quite between ourselves, you know) I was pulled up; I thought of a scene t’other day with — shall I tell you whom? Perhaps we can do without a name?
Her. No, no; we must have that too.
Ly. Your own professor himself, then — a person to whom all respect is due, surely, not to mention his years.
Her. Well?
Ly. You know the Heracleot, quite an old pupil of his in philosophy by this time — red-haired — likes an argument?
Her. Yes; Dion, he is called.
Ly. Well, I suppose he had not paid up punctually; anyhow the other day the old man haled him before the magistrate56, with a halter made of his own coat; he was shouting and fuming57, and if some friends had not come up and got the young man out of his hands, he would have bitten off his nose, he was in such a temper.
Her. Ah, he is a bad character, always an unconscionable time paying his debts. There are plenty of others who owe the professor money, and he has never treated any of them so; they pay him his interest punctually.
Ly. Not so fast; what in the world does it matter to him, if they do not pay up? he is purified by philosophy, and has no further need of the cast clothes of Oeta.
Her. Do you suppose his interest in such things is selfish? no, but he has little ones; his care is to save them from indigence58.
Ly. Whereas he ought to have brought them up to Virtue too, and let them share his inexpensive Happiness.
Her. Well, I have no time to argue it, Lycinus; I must not be late for lecture, lest in the end I find myself left behind.
Ly. Don’t be afraid, my duteous one; today is a holiday; I can save you the rest of your walk.
Her. What do you mean?
Ly. You will not find him just now, if the notice is to be trusted; there was a tablet over the door announcing in large print, No meeting this day. I hear he dined yesterday with the great Eucrates, who was keeping his daughter’s birthday. He talked a good deal of philosophy over the wine, and lost his temper a little with Euthydemus the Peripatetic59; they were debating the old Peripatetic objections to the Porch. His long vocal60 exertions61 (for it was midnight before they broke up) gave him a bad headache, with violent perspiration62. I fancy he had also drunk a little too much, toasts being the order of the day, and eaten more than an old man should. When he got home, he was very ill, they said, just managed to check and lock up carefully the slices of meat which he had conveyed to his servant at table, and then, giving orders that he was not at home, went to sleep, and has not waked since. I overheard Midas his man telling this to some of his pupils; there were a number of them coming away.
Her. Which had the victory, though, he or Euthydemus — if Midas said anything about that?
Ly. Why, at first, I gathered, it was very even between them; but you Stoics64 had it in the end, and your master was much too hard for him. Euthydemus did not even get off whole; he had a great cut on his head. He was pretentious66, insisted on proving his point, would not give in, and proved a hard nut to crack; so your excellent professor, who had a goblet67 as big as Nestor’s in his hand, brought this down on him as he lay within easy reach, and the victory was his.
Her. Good; so perish all who will not yield to their betters!
Ly. Very reasonable, Hermotimus; what was Euthydemus thinking of, to irritate an old man who is purged of wrath and master of his passions, when he had such a heavy goblet in his hand?
But we have time to spare — you might tell a friend like me the story of your start in philosophy; then I might perhaps, if it is not too late, begin now and join your school; you are my friends; you will not be exclusive?
Her. If only you would, Lycinus! you will soon find out how much you are superior to the rest of men. I do assure you, you will think them all children, you will be so much wiser.
Ly. Enough for me, if after twenty years of it I am where you are now.
Her. Oh, I was about your age when I started on philosophy; I was forty; and you must be about that.
Ly. Just that; so take and lead me on the same way; that is but right. And first tell me — do you allow learners to criticize, if they find difficulties in your doctrines68, or must juniors abstain70 from that?
Her. Why, yes, they must; but you shall have leave to ask questions and criticize; you will learn easier that way.
Ly. I thank you for it, Hermotimus, by your name-God Hermes.
Now, is there only one road to philosophy — the Stoic65 way? they tell me there are a great many other philosophers; is that so?
Her. Certainly — Peripatetics, Epicureans, Platonists, followers72 of Diogenes, Antisthenes, Pythagoras, and more yet.
Ly. Quite so; numbers of them. Now, are their doctrines the same, or different?
Her. Entirely73 different.
Ly. But the truth, I presume, is bound to be in one of them, and not in all, as they differ?
Her. Certainly.
Ly. Then, as you love me, answer this: when you first went in pursuit of philosophy, you found many gates wide open; what induced you to pass the others by, and go in at the Stoic gate? Why did you assume that that was the only true one, which would set you on the straight road to Virtue, while the rest all opened on blind alleys74? What was the test you applied75 then? Please abolish your present self, the self which is now instructed, or half-instructed, and better able to distinguish between good and bad than we outsiders, and answer in your then character of a layman76, with no advantage over me as I am now.
Her. I cannot tell what you are driving at.
Ly. Oh, there is nothing recondite77 about it. There are a great many philosophers — let us say Plato, Aristotle, Antisthenes, and your spiritual fathers, Chrysippus, Zeno, and all the rest of them; what was it that induced you, leaving the rest alone, to pick out the school you did from among them all, and pin your philosophic faith to it? Were you favoured like Chaerephon with a revelation from Apollo? Did he tell you the Stoics were the best of men, and send you to their school? I dare say he recommends different philosophers to different persons, according to their individual needs?
Her. Nothing of the kind, Lycinus; I never consulted him upon it.
Ly. Why? was it not a dignus vindice nodus? or were you confident in your own unaided discrimination?
Her. Why, yes; I was.
Ly. Then this must be my first lesson from you — how one can decide out of hand which is the best and the true philosophy to be taken, and the others left.
Her. I will tell you: I observed that it attracted most disciples78, and thence inferred that it was superior.
Ly. Give me figures; how many more of them than of Epicureans, Platonists, Peripatetics? Of course you took a sort of show of hands.
Her. Well, no; I didn’t count; I just guessed.
Ly. Now, now! you are not teaching, but hoaxing79 me; judge by guess work and impression, indeed, on a thing of this importance! You are hiding the truth.
Her. Well, that was not my only way; every one told me the Epicureans were sensual and self-indulgent, the Peripatetics avaricious80 and contentious81, the Platonists conceited82 and vain; about the Stoics, on the contrary, many said they had fortitude84 and an open mind; he who goes their way, I heard, was the true king and millionaire and wise man, alone and all in one.
Ly. And, of course, it was other people who so described them; you would not have taken their own word for their excellences85.
Her. Certainly not; it was others who said it.
Ly. Not their rivals, I suppose?
Her. Oh, no.
Ly. Laymen86, then?
Her. Just so.
Ly. There you are again, cheating me with your irony87; you take me for a blockhead, who will believe that an intelligent person like Hermotimus, at the age of forty, would accept the word of laymen about philosophy and philosophers, and make his own selection on the strength of what they said.
Her. But you see, Lycinus, I did not depend on their judgement entirely, but on my own too. I saw the Stoics going about with dignity, decently dressed and groomed88, ever with a thoughtful air and a manly89 countenance90, as far from effeminacy as from the utter repulsive91 negligence92 of the Cynics, bearing themselves, in fact, like moderate men; and every one admits that moderation is right.
Ly. Did you ever see them behaving like your master, as I described him to you just now? Lending money and clamouring for payment, losing their tempers in philosophic debates, and making other exhibitions of themselves? Or perhaps these are trifles, so long as the dress is decent, the beard long, and the hair close-cropped? We are provided for the future, then, with an infallible rule and balance, guaranteed by Hermotimus? It is by appearance and walk and haircutting that the best men are to be distinguished93; and whosoever has not these marks, and is not solemn and thoughtful, shall be condemned94 and rejected?
Nay, do not play with me like this; you want to see whether I shall catch you at it.
Her. Why do you say that?
Ly. Because, my dear sir, this appearance test is one for statues; their decent orderly attire96 has it easily over the Stoics, because Phidias or Alcamenes or Myron designed them to be graceful97. However, granting as much as you like that these are the right tests, what is a blind man to do, if he wants to take up philosophy? how is he to find the man whose principles are right, when he cannot see his appearance or gait?
Her. I am not teaching the blind, Lycinus; I have nothing to do with them.
Ly. Ah, but, my good sir, there ought to have been some universal criterion, in a matter of such great and general use. Still, if you will have it so, let the blind be excluded from philosophy, as they cannot see — though, by the way, they are just the people who most need philosophy to console them for their misfortune; but now, the people who can see — give them the utmost possible acuity99 of vision, and what can they detect of the spiritual qualities from this external shell?
What I mean is this: was it not from admiration100 of their spirit that you joined them, expecting to have your own spirit purified?
Her. Assuredly.
Ly. How could you possibly discern the true philosopher from the false, then, by the marks you mentioned? It is not the way of such qualities to come out like that; they are hidden and secret; they are revealed only under long and patient observation, in talk and debate and the conduct they inspire. You have probably heard of Momus’s indictment101 of Hephaestus; if not, you shall have it now. According to the myth, Athene, Posidon, and Hephaestus had a match in inventiveness. Posidon made a bull, Athene planned a house, Hephaestus constructed a man; when they came before Momus, who was to judge, he examined their productions; I need not trouble you with his criticisms of the other two; but his objection to the man, and the fault he found with Hephaestus, was this: he should have made a window in his chest, so that, when it was opened, his thoughts and designs, his truth or falsehood, might have been apparent. Momus must have been blear-eyed, to have such ideas about men; but you have sharper eyes than Lynceus, and pierce through the chest to what is inside; all is patent to you, not merely any man’s wishes and sentiments, but the comparative merits of any pair.
Her. You trifle, Lycinus. I made a pious103 choice, and do not repent104 it; that is enough for me.
Ly. And will you yet make a mystery of it to your friend, and let him be lost with the vulgar herd?
Her. Why, you will not accept anything I say.
Ly. On the contrary, my good sir, it is you who will not say anything I can accept. Well, as you refuse me your confidence, and are so jealous of my becoming a philosopher and your equal, I must even do my best to find out the infallible test and learn to choose safely for myself. And you may listen, if you like.
Her. That I will, Lycinus; you will very likely hit on some good idea.
Ly. Then attend, and do not mock me, if my inquiry105 is quite unscientific; it is all I can do, as you, who know better, will not give me any clearer light.
I conceive Virtue, then, under the figure of a State whose citizens are happy — as your professor, who is one of them, phrases it — absolutely wise, all of them brave, just, and self-controlled, hardly distinguishable, in fact, from Gods. All sorts of things that go on here, such as robbery, assault, unfair gain, you will never find attempted there, I believe; their relations are all peace and unity106; and this is quite natural, seeing that none of the things which elsewhere occasion strife107 and rivalry108, and prompt men to plot against their neighbours, so much as come in their way at all. Gold, pleasures, distinctions, they never regard as objects of dispute; they have banished109 them long ago as undesirable110 elements. Their life is serene111 and blissful, in the enjoyment112 of legality, equality, liberty, and all other good things.
Her. Well, Lycinus? Must not all men yearn113 to belong to a State like that, and never count the toil of getting there, nor lose heart over the time it takes? Enough that one day they will arrive, and be naturalized, and given the franchise114.
Ly. In good truth, Hermotimus, we should devote all our efforts to this, and neglect everything else; we need pay little heed115 to any claims of our earthly country; we should steel our hearts against the clingings and cryings of children or parents, if we have them; it is well if we can induce them to go with us; but, if they will not or cannot, shake them off and march straight for the city of bliss, leaving your coat in their hands, if they lay hold of it to keep you back, in your hurry to get there; what matter for a coat? You will be admitted there without one.
I remember hearing a description of it all once before from an old man, who urged me to go there with him. He would show me the way, enroll116 me when I got there, introduce me to his own circles, and promise me a share in the universal Happiness. But I was stiff-necked, in my youthful folly117 (it was some fifteen years ago); else might I have been in the outskirts118, nay, haply at the very gates, by now. Among the noteworthy things he told me, I seem to remember these: all the citizens are aliens and foreigners, not a native among them; they include numbers of barbarians119, slaves, cripples, dwarfs120, and poor; in fact any one is admitted; for their law does not associate the franchise with income, with shape, size, or beauty, with old or brilliant ancestry121; these things are not considered at all; any one who would be a citizen needs only understanding, zeal122 for the right, energy, perseverance123, fortitude and resolution in facing all the trials of the road; whoever proves his possession of these by persisting till he reaches the city is ipso facto a full citizen, regardless of his antecedents. Such distinctions as superior and inferior, noble and common, bond and free, simply do not exist there, even in name.
Her. There, now; you see I am not wasting my pains on trifles; I yearn to be counted among the citizens of that fair and happy State.
Ly. Why, your yearning124 is mine too; there is nothing I would sooner pray for. If the city had been near at hand and plain for all to see, be assured I would never have doubted, nor needed prompting; I would have gone thither and had my franchise long ago; but as you tell me — you and your bard125 Hesiod — that it is set exceeding far off, one must find out the way to it, and the best guide. You agree?
Her. Of course that is the only thing to do.
Ly. Now, so far as promises and professions go, there is no lack of guides; there are numbers of them waiting about, all representing themselves as from there. But instead of one single road there seem to be many different and inconsistent ones. North and South, East and West, they go; one leads through meadows and vegetation and shade, and is well watered and pleasant, with never a stumbling-block or inequality; another is rough and rocky, threatening heat and drought and toil. Yet all these are supposed to lead to the one city, though they take such different directions.
That is where my difficulty lies; whichever of them I try, there is sure to be a most respectable person stationed just at the entrance, with a welcoming hand and an exhortation126 to go his way; each of them says he is the only one who knows the straight road; his rivals are all mistaken, have never been themselves, nor learnt the way from competent guides. I go to his neighbour, and he gives the same assurances about his way, abusing the other respectable persons; and so the next, and the next, and the next. This multiplicity and dissimilarity of the roads gives me searchings of heart, and still more the assertiveness127 and self-satisfaction of the guides; I really cannot tell which turning or whose directions are most likely to bring me to the city.
Her. Oh, but I can solve that puzzle for you; you cannot go wrong, if you trust those who have been already.
Ly. Which do you mean? those who have been by which road, and under whose guidance? It is the old puzzle in a new form; you have only substituted men for measures.
Her. How do you mean?
Ly. Why, the man who has taken Plato’s road and travelled with him will recommend that road; so with Epicurus and the rest; and you will recommend your own. How else, Hermotimus? it must be so.
Her. Well, of course.
Ly. So you have not solved my puzzle; I know just as little as before which traveller to trust; I find that each of them, as well as his guide, has tried one only, which he now recommends and will have to be the only one leading to the city. Whether he tells the truth I have no means of knowing; that he has attained some end, and seen some city, I may perhaps allow; but whether he saw the right one, or whether, Corinth being the real goal, he got to Babylon and thought he had seen Corinth — that is still undecided; for surely every one who has seen a city has not seen Corinth, unless Corinth is the only city there is. But my greatest difficulty of all is the absolute certainty that the true road is one; for Corinth is one, and the other roads lead anywhere but to Corinth, though there may be people deluded enough to suppose that the North road and the South road lead equally to Corinth.
Her. But that is absurd, Lycinus; they go opposite ways, you see.
Ly. Then, my dear good man, this choice of roads and guides is quite a serious matter; we can by no means just follow our noses; we shall be discovering that we are well on the way to Babylon or Bactria instead of to Corinth. Nor is it advisable to toss up, either, on the chance that we may hit upon the right way if we start upon any one at a venture. That is no impossibility; it may have come off once and again in a cycle; but I cannot think we ought to gamble recklessly with such high stakes, nor commit our hopes to a frail128 craft, like the wise men who went to sea in a bowl; we should have no fair complaint against Fortune, if her arrow or dart129 did not precisely hit the centre; the odds130 are ten thousand to one against her; just so the archer131 in Homer — Teucer, I suppose it was — when he meant to hit the dove, only cut the string, which held it; of course it is infinitely132 more likely that the point of the arrow will find its billet in one of the numberless other places, than just in that particular central one. And as to the perils133 of blundering into one of the wrong roads instead of the right one, misled by a belief in the discretion134 of Fortune, here is an illustration:— it is no easy matter to turn back and get safe into port when you have once cast loose your moorings and committed yourself to the breeze; you are at the mercy of the sea, frightened, sick and sorry with your tossing about, most likely. Your mistake was at the beginning: before leaving, you should have gone up to some high point, and observed whether the wind was in the right quarter, and of the right strength for a crossing to Corinth, not neglecting, by the way, to secure the very best pilot obtainable, and a seaworthy craft equal to so high a sea.
Her. Much better so, Lycinus. However, I know that, if you go the whole round, you will find no better guides or more expert pilots than the Stoics; if you mean ever to get to Corinth, you will follow them, in the tracks of Chrysippus and Zeno. It is the only way to do it.
Ly. Ah, many can play at the game of assertion. Plato’s fellow traveller, Epicurus’s follower71, and all the rest, will tell me just what you do, that I shall never get to Corinth except with whichever of them it is. So I must either believe them all, or disbelieve impartially135. The latter is much the safest, until we have found out the truth.
Put a case, now: just as I am, as uncertain as ever which of the whole number has the truth, I choose your school; I rely on you, who are my friend, but who still know only the Stoic doctrine69, and have not travelled any way but that. Now some God brings Plato, Pythagoras, Aristotle, and the rest to life again; they gather round and cross-examine me, or actually sue me in court for constructive136 defamation137; Good Lycinus, they say, what possessed138 or who induced you to exalt139 Chrysippus and Zeno at our expense? we are far older established; they are mere102 creatures of yesterday; yet you never gave us a hearing, nor inquired into our statements at all. Well, what am I to plead? will it avail me to say I trusted my friend Hermotimus? I feel sure they will say, We know not this Hermotimus, who he is, nor he us; you had no right to condemn95 us all, and give judgement by default against us, on the authority of a man who knew only one of the philosophic roads, and even that, perhaps, imperfectly. These are not the instructions issued to juries, Lycinus; they are not to hear one party, and, refuse the other permission to say what he deems advisable; they are to hear both sides alike, with a view to the better sifting141 of truth from falsehood by comparison of the arguments; if they fail in these duties, the law allows an appeal to another court. That is what we may expect them to say.
Then one of them might proceed to question me like this: Suppose, Lycinus, that an Ethiopian who had never been abroad in his life, nor seen other men like us, were to state categorically in an Ethiopian assembly that there did not exist on earth any white or yellow men — nothing but blacks — would his statement be accepted? or would some Ethiopian elder remark, How do you know, my confident friend? you have never been in foreign parts, nor had any experience of other nations. Shall I tell him the old man’s question was justified142? what do you advise, my counsel?
Her. Say that, certainly; I consider the old man’s rebuke143 quite reasonable.
Ly. So do I. But I am not so sure you will approve what comes next; as for me, I have as little doubt of that as of the other.
Her. What is it?
Ly. The next step will be the application; my questioner will say, Now Lycinus, let us suppose an analogue144, in a person acquainted only with the Stoic doctrine, like your friend Hermotimus; he has never travelled in Plato’s country, or to Epicurus, or any other land; now, if he were to state that there was no such beauty or truth in those many countries as there is in the Porch and its teaching, would you not be justified in considering it bold of him to give you his opinion about them all, whereas he knew only one, having never set foot outside the bounds of Ethiopia? What reply do you advise to that?
Her. The perfectly140 true one, of course, that it is indeed the Stoic doctrine that we study fully63, being minded to sink or swim with that, but still we do know what the others say also; our teacher rehearses the articles of their beliefs to us incidentally, and demolishes145 them with his comments.
Ly. Do you suppose the Platonists, Pythagoreans, Epicureans, and other schools, will let that pass? or will they laugh out loud and say, What remarkable146 methods your friend has, Lycinus! he accepts our adversaries’ character of us, and gathers our doctrines from the description of people who do not know, or deliberately147 misrepresent them. If he were to see an athlete getting his muscles in trim by kicking high, or hitting out at empty space as though he were getting a real blow home, would he (in the capacity of umpire) at once proclaim him victor, because he could not help winning ? No; he would reflect that these displays are easy and safe, when there is no defence to be reckoned with, and that the real decision must wait till he has beaten and mastered his opponent, and the latter ‘has had enough’. Well then, do not let Hermotimus suppose from his teachers’ sparrings with our shadows (for we are not there) that they have the victory, or that our doctrines are so easily upset; tell him the business is too like the sand houses which children, having built them weak, have no difficulty in overturning, or, to change the figure, like people practising archery; they make a straw target, hang it to a post, plant it a little way off, and then let fly at it; if they hit and get through the straw, they burst into a shout, as if it were a great triumph to have driven through the dry stuff. That is not the way the Persians take, or those Scythian tribes which use the bow. Generally, when they shoot, in the first place they are themselves mounted and in motion, and secondly148, they like the mark to be moving too; it is not to be stationary149, waiting for the arrival of the arrow, but passing at full speed; they can usually kill beasts, and their marksmen hit birds. If it ever happens that they want to test the actual impact on a target, they set up one of stout wood, or a shield of raw hide; piercing that, they reckon that their shafts150 will go through armour151 too. So, Lycinus, tell Hermotimus from us that his teachers fierce straw targets, and then say they have disposed of armed men; or paint up figures of us, spar at them, and, after a not surprising success, think they have beaten us. But we shall severally quote against them Achilles’s words against Hector:
They dare not face the nodding of my plume152.
So say all of them, one after the other.
I suspect that Plato, with his intimate knowledge of Sicily, will add an anecdote153 from there. Gelo of Syracuse had disagreeable breath, but did not find it out himself for a long time, no one venturing to mention such a circumstance to a tyrant154. At last a foreign woman who had a connexion with him dared to tell him; whereupon he went to his wife and scolded her for never having, with all her opportunities of knowing, warned him of it; she put in the defence that, as she had never been familiar or at close quarters with any other man, she had supposed all men were like that. So Hermotinus (Plato will say) after his exclusive association with Stoics, cannot be expected to know the savour of other people’s mouths. Chrysippus, on the other hand, might say as much or more if I were to put him out of court and betake myself to Platonism, in reliance upon some one who had conversed155 with Plato alone. And in a word, as long as it is uncertain which is the true philosophic school, I choose none; choice of one is insult to the rest.
Her. For Heaven’s sake, Lycinus, let us leave Plato, Aristotle, Epicurus, and the rest of them alone; to argue with them is not for me. Why not just hold a private inquiry, you and I, whether philosophy is what I say it is? As for the Ethiopians and Gelo’s wife, what a long way you have brought them on none of their business!
Ly. Away with them, then, if you find their company superfluous157. And now do you proceed; my expectations are high.
Her. Well, it seems to me perfectly possible, Lycinus, after studying the Stoic doctrines alone, to get at the truth from them, without going through a course of all the others too. Look at it this way: if any one tells you simply, Twice two is four, need you go round all the mathematicians158 to find out whether there is one who makes it five, or seven; or would you know at once that the man was right?
Ly. Certainly I should.
Her. Then why should you think it impossible for a man who finds, without going further, that the Stoics make true statements, to believe them and dispense159 with further witness? He knows that four can never be five, though ten thousand Platos or Pythagorases said it was.
Ly. Not to the point. You compare accepted with disputed facts, whereas they are completely different. Tell me, did you ever meet a man who said twice two was seven or eleven?
Her. Not I; any one who did not make four of it must be mad.
Ly. But on the other hand — try to tell the truth, I adjure160 you — did you ever meet a Stoic and an Epicurean who did not differ about principles or ends?
Her. No.
Ly. You are an honest man; now ask yourself whether you are trapping a friend with false logic161. We are trying to find out with whom philosophic truth lies; and you beg the question and make a present of that same truth to the Stoics; for you say (what is quite unproved) that they are the people who make twice two four; the Epicureans or Platonists would say that they bring out that result, whereas you get five or seven. Does it not amount to that, when your school reckon goodness the only end, and the Epicureans pleasure? or again when you say everything is material, and Plato recognizes an immaterial element also in all that exists? As I said, you lay hold of the thing in dispute, as though it were the admitted property of the Stoics, and put it into their hands, though the others claim it and maintain that it is theirs; why, it is the very point at issue. If it is once established that Stoics have the monopoly of making four out of twice two, it is time for the rest to hold their tongues; but as long as they refuse to yield that point, we must hear all alike, or be prepared for people’s calling us partial judges.
Her. It seems to me, Lycinus, you do not understand what I mean.
Ly. Very well, put it plainer, if it is something different from that.
Her. You will see in a minute. Let us suppose two people have gone into the temple of Asclepius or Dionysus, and subsequently one of the sacred cups is missing. Both of them will have to be searched, to see which has it about him.
Ly. Clearly.
Her. Of course one of them has it.
Ly. Necessarily, if it is missing.
Her. Then, if you find it on the first, you will not strip the other; it is clear he has not got it.
Ly. Quite.
Her. And if we fail to find it on the first, the other certainly has it; it is unnecessary to search him that way either.
Ly. Yes, he has it.
Her. So with us; if we find the cup in the possession of the Stoics, we shall not care to go on and search the others; we have what we were looking for; why trouble further?
Ly. There is no why, if you really find it, and can be certain it is the missing article, the sacred object being unmistakable. But there are some differences in this case, friend, the temple-visitors are not two, so that if one has not got the booty the other has, but many; and the identity of the missing object is also uncertain; it may be cup, or bowl, or garland; every priest gives a different description of it; they do not agree even about the material; bronze, say these, silver, say those — anything from gold to tin. So there is nothing for it but to strip the visitors, if you want to find it; even if you discover a gold cup on the first man, you must go on to the others.
Her. What for?
Ly. Because it is not certain that the thing was a cup. And even if that is generally admitted, they do not all agree that it was gold; and if it is well known that a gold cup is missing, and you find a gold cup on your first man, even so you are not quit of searching the others; it is not clear that this is the sacred cup; do you suppose there is only one gold cup in the world?
Her. No, indeed.
Ly. So you will have to go the round, and then collect all your finds together and decide which of them is most likely to be divine property.
For the source of all the difficulty is this: every one who is stripped has something or other on him, one a bowl, one a cup, one a garland, which again may be bronze, gold, or silver; but whether the one he has is the sacred one, is not yet clear. It is absolutely impossible to know which man to accuse of sacrilege; even if all the objects were similar, it would be uncertain who had robbed the God; for such things may be private property too. Our perplexity, of course, is simply due to the fact that the missing cup — assume it to be a cup — has no inscription162; if either the God’s or the donor’s name had been on it, we should not have had all this trouble; when we found the inscribed163 one, we should have stopped stripping and inconveniencing other visitors. I suppose, Hermotimus, you have often been at athletic164 meetings?
Her. You suppose right; and in many places too.
Ly. Did you ever have a seat close by the judges?
Her. Dear me, yes; last Olympia, I was on the left of the stewards165; Euandridas of Elis had got me a place in the Elean enclosure; I particularly wanted to have a near view of how things are done there.
Ly. So you know how they arrange ties for the wrestling or the pancratium?
Her. Yes.
Ly. Then you will describe it better than I, as you have seen it so close.
Her. In old days, when Heracles presided, bay leaves —
Ly. No old days, thank you; tell me what you saw with your own eyes.
Her. A consecrated167 silver urn24 is produced, and into it are thrown little lots about the size of a bean, with letters on them. Two are marked alpha 33, two beta, two more gamma, and so on, if the competitors run to more than that — two lots always to each letter. A competitor comes up, makes a prayer to Zeus, dips his hand into the urn, and pulls out one lot; then another does the same; there is a policeman to each drawer, who holds his hand so that he cannot see what letter he has drawn168. When all have drawn, the chief police officer, I think it is, or one of the stewards themselves — I cannot quite remember this detail — goes round and examines the lots while they stand in a circle, and puts together the two alphas for the wrestling or pancratium, and so for the two betas, and the rest. That is the procedure when the number of competitors is even, as eight, four, or twelve. If it is five, seven, nine, or other odd number, an odd letter is marked on one lot, which is put in with the others, not having a duplicate. Whoever draws this is a bye, and waits till the rest have finished their ties; no duplicate turns up for him, you see; and it is a considerable advantage to an athlete, to know that he will come fresh against tired competitors.
Ly. Stop there; that is just what I wanted. There are nine of them, we will say, and they have all drawn, and the lots are in their hands. You go round — for I promote you from spectator to steward166 — examining the letters; and I suppose you will not know who is the bye till you have been to them all and paired them.
Her. How do you mean?
Ly. It is impossible for you to hit straight upon the letter which indicates the bye; at least, you may hit upon the letter, but you will not know about the bye; it was not announced beforehand that kappa or mu or iota169 had the appointment in its gift; when you find alpha, you look for the holder170 of the other alpha, whom finding, you pair the two. Again finding beta, you inquire into the whereabouts of the second beta which matches it; and so all through, till there is no one left but the holder of the single unpaired letter.
Her. But suppose you come upon it first or second, what will you do then?
Ly. Never mind me; I want to know what you will do, Mr. Steward. Will you say at once, Here is the bye? or will you have to go round to all, and see whether there is a duplicate to be found, it being impossible to know the bye till you have seen all the lots?
Her. Why, Lycinus, I shall know quite easily; nine being the number, if I find the epsilon first or second, I know the holder of it for the bye.
Ly. But how?
Her. How? Why, two of them must have alpha, two beta, and of the next two pairs one has certainly drawn gammas and the other deltas171, so that four letters have been used up over eight competitors. Obviously, then, the next letter, which is epsilon, is the only one that can be odd, and the drawer of it is the bye.
Ly. Shall I extol172 your intelligence, or would you rather I explained to you my own poor idea, which differs?
Her. The latter, of course, though I cannot conceive how you can reasonably differ.
Ly. You have gone on the assumption that the letters are taken in alphabetical173 order, until at a particular one the number of competitors runs short; and I grant you it may be done so at Olympia. But suppose we were to pick out five letters at random174, say chi, sigma, zeta, kappa, theta, and duplicate the other four on the lots for eight competitors, but put a single zeta on the ninth, which we meant to indicate the bye — what then would you do if you came on the zeta first? How can you tell that its holder is the bye till you have been all round and found no counterpart to it? for you could not tell by the alphabetical order, as at Olympia.
Her. A difficult question.
Ly. Look at the same thing another way. Suppose we put no letters at all on the lots, but, instead of them, signs and marks such as the Egyptians use for letters, men with dogs’ or lions’ heads. Or no, those are rather too strange; let us avoid hybrids175, and put down simple forms, as well as our draughtsmanship will allow — men on two lots, horses on two, a pair of cocks, a pair of dogs, and let a lion be the mark of the ninth. Now, if you hit upon the lion at the first try, how can you tell that this is the bye-maker, until you have gone all round and seen whether any one else has a lion to match?
Her. Your question is too much for me.
Ly. No wonder; there is no plausible177 answer. Consequently if we mean to find either the man who has the sacred cup, or the bye, or our best guide to the famous city of Corinth, we must absolutely go to and examine them all, trying them carefully, stripping and comparing them; the truth will be hard enough to find, even so. If I am to take any one’s advice upon the right philosophy to choose, I insist upon his knowing what they all say; every one else I disqualify; I will not trust him while there is one philosophy he is unacquainted with; that one may possibly be the best of all. If some one were to produce a handsome man, and state that he was the handsomest of mankind, we should not accept that, unless we knew he had seen all men; very likely his man is handsome, but whether the handsomest, he has no means of knowing without seeing all. Now we are looking not simply for beauty, but for the greatest beauty, and if we miss that, we shall account ourselves no further than we were; we shall not be content with chancing upon some sort of beauty; we are in search of a definite thing, the supreme179 beauty, which must necessarily be one.
Her. True.
Ly. Well then, can you name me a man who has tried every road in philosophy? one who, knowing the doctrine of Pythagoras, Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus, Epicurus, and the rest, has ended by selecting one out of all these roads, because he has proved it genuine, and had found it by experience to be the only one that led straight to Happiness? If we can meet with such a man, we are at the end of our troubles.
Her. Alas, that is no easy matter.
Ly. What shall we do, then? I do not think we ought to despair, in the momentary180 absence of such a guide. Perhaps the best and safest plan of all is to set to work oneself, go through every system, and carefully examine the various doctrines.
Her. That is what seems to be indicated. I am afraid, though, there is an obstacle in what you said just now: it is not easy, when you have committed yourself with a spread of canvas to the wind, to get home again. How can a man try all the roads, when, as you said, he will be unable to escape from the first of them?
Ly. My notion is to copy Theseus, get dame181 Ariadne to give us a skein, and go into one labyrinth182 after another, with the certainty of getting out by winding183 it up.
Her. Who is to be our Ariadne? Where shall we find the skein?
Ly. Never despair; I fancy I have found something to hold on to and escape.
Her. And what is that?
Ly. It is not original; I borrow it from one of the wise men: ‘Be sober and doubt all things,’ says he. If we do not believe everything we are told, but behave like jurymen who suspend judgement till they have heard the other side, we may have no difficulty in getting out of the labyrinths184.
Her. A good plan; let us try it.
Ly. Very well, which shall we start with? However, that will make no difference; we may begin with whomsoever we fancy, Pythagoras, say; how long shall we allow for learning the whole of Pythagoreanism? and do not omit the five years of silence; including those, I suppose thirty altogether will do; or, if you do not like that, still we cannot put it lower than twenty.
Her. Put it at that.
Ly. Plato will come next with as many more, and then Aristotle cannot do with less.
Her. No.
Ly. As to Chrysippus, I need not ask you; you have told me already that forty is barely enough.
Her. That is so.
Ly. And we have still Epicurus and the others. I am not taking high figures, either, as you will see if you reflect upon the number of octogenarian Stoics, Epicureans, and Platonists who confess that they have not yet completely mastered their own systems. Or, if they did not confess it, at any rate Chrysippus, Aristotle, and Plato would for them; still more Socrates, who is as good as they; he used to proclaim to all comers that, so far from knowing all, he knew nothing whatever, except the one fact of his own ignorance. Well, let us add up. Twenty years we gave Pythagoras, the same to Plato, and so to the others. What will the total come to, if we assume only ten schools?
Her. Over two hundred years.
Ly. Shall we deduct185 a quarter of that, and say a hundred and fifty will do? or can we halve186 it?
Her. You must decide about that; but I see that, at the best, it will be but few who will get through the course, though they begin philosophy and life together.
Ly. In that case, what are we to do? Must we withdraw our previous admission, that no one can choose the best out of many without trying all? We thought selection without experiment a method of inquiry savouring more of divination187 than of judgement, did we not?
Her. Yes.
Ly. Without such longevity188, then, it is absolutely impossible for us to complete the series — experiment, selection, philosophy, Happiness. Yet anything short of that is a mere game of blindman’s-buff; whatever we knock against and get hold of we shall be taking for the thing we want, because the truth is hidden from us. Even if a mere piece of luck brings us straight to it, we shall have no grounded conviction of our success; there are so many similar objects, all claiming to be the real thing.
Her. Ah, Lycinus, your arguments seem to me more or less logical, but — but — to be frank with you — I hate to hear you going through them and wasting your acuteness. I suspect it was in an evil hour that I came out today and met you; my hopes were almost in my grasp; and now here are you plunging189 me into a slough190 of despond with your demonstrations191; truth is undiscoverable, if the search needs so many years.
Ly. My dear friend, it would be much fairer to blame your parents, Menecrates and whatever your mother’s name may have been — or indeed to go still further back to human nature. Why did not they make you a Tithonus for years and durability193? instead of which, they limited you like other men to a century at the outside. As for me, I have only been helping you to deduce results.
Her. No, no; it is just your way; you want to crow over me; you detest194 philosophy — I cannot tell why — and poke7 fun at philosophers.
Ly. Hermotimus, I cannot show what truth is, so well as wise people like you and your professor; but one thing I do know about it, and that is that it is not pleasant to the ear; falsehood is far more esteemed195; it is prettier, and therefore pleasanter; while Truth, conscious of its purity, blurts196 out downright remarks, and offends people. Here is a case of it: even you are offended with me for having discovered (with your assistance) how this matter really stands, and shown that our common object is hard of attainment. Suppose you had been in love with a statue and hoped to win it, under the impression that it was human, and I had realized that it was only bronze or marble, and given you a friendly warning that your passion was hopeless — you might just as well have thought I was your enemy then, because I would not leave you a prey197 to extravagant198 and impracticable delusions199.
Her. Well, well; are we to give up philosophy, then, and idle our lives away like the common herd?
Ly. What have I said to justify200 that? My point is not that we are to give up philosophy, but this: whereas we are to pursue philosophy, and whereas there are many roads, each professing201 to lead to philosophy and Virtue, and whereas it is uncertain which of these is the true road, therefore the selection shall be made with care. Now we resolved that it was impossible out of many offers to choose the best, unless a man should try all in turn; and then the process of trial was found to be long. What do you propose? — It is the old question again. To follow and join philosophic forces with whomsoever you first fall in with, and let him thank Fortune for his proselyte?
Her. What is the good of answering your questions? You say no one can judge for himself, unless he can devote the life of a phoenix202 to going round experimenting; and on the other hand you refuse to trust either previous experience or the multitude of favourable203 testimony204.
Ly. Where is your multitude, with knowledge and experience of all? Never mind the multitude; one man who answers the description will do for me. But if you mean the people who do not know, their mere numbers will never persuade me, as long as they pronounce upon all from knowledge of, at the most, one.
Her. Are you the only man who has found the truth, and are all the people who go in for philosophy fools?
Ly. You wrong me, Hermotimus, when you imply that I put myself above other people, or rank myself at all with those who know; you forget what I said; I never claimed to know the truth better than others, only confessed that I was as ignorant of it as every one else.
Her. Well, but, Lycinus, it may be all very well to insist on going the round, testing the various statements, and eschewing205 any other method of choice; but it is ridiculous to spend so many years on each experiment, as though there were no such thing as judging from samples. That device seems to me quite simple, and economical of time. There is a story that some sculptor206, Phidias, I think, seeing a single claw, calculated from it the size of the lion, if it were modelled proportionally. So, if some one were to let you see a man’s hand, keeping the rest of his body concealed207, you would know at once that what was behind was a man, without seeing his whole body. Well, it is easy to find out in a few hours the essential points of the various doctrines, and, for selecting the best, these will suffice, without any of your scrupulous208 exacting209 investigation210.
Ly. Upon my word, how confident you are in your faculty211 of divining the whole from the parts! and yet I remember being told just the opposite — that knowledge of the whole includes that of the parts, but not vice178 versa. Well, but tell me; when Phidias saw the claw, would he ever have known it for a lion’s, if he had never seen a lion? Could you have said the hand was a man’s, if you had never known or seen a man? Why are you dumb? Let me make the only possible answer for you — that you could not; I am afraid Phidias has modelled his lion all for nothing; for it proves to be neither here nor there. What resemblance is there? What enabled you and Phidias to recognize the parts was just your knowledge of the wholes — the lion and the man. But in philosophy — the Stoic, for instance — how will the part reveal the other parts to you, or how can you conclude that they are beautiful? You do not know the whole to which the parts belong.
Then you say it is easy to hear in a few hours the essentials of all philosophy — meaning, I suppose, their principles and ends, their accounts of God and the soul, their views on the material and the immaterial, their respective identification of pleasure or goodness with the desirable and the Happy; well, it is easy — it is quite a trifle — to deliver an opinion after such a hearing; but really to know where the truth lies will be work, I suspect, not for a few hours, but for a good many days. If not, what can have induced them to enlarge on these rudiments212 to the tune98 of a hundred or a thousand volumes apiece? I imagine they only wanted to establish the truth of those few points which you thought so easy and intelligible213. If you refuse to spend your time on a conscientious214 selection, after personal examination of each and all, in sum and in detail, it seems to me you will still want your soothsayer to choose the best for you. It would be a fine short cut, with no meanderings or wastings of time, if you sent for him, listened to the summaries, and killed a victim at the end of each; by indicating in its liver which is the philosophy for you, the God would save you a pack of troubles.
Or, if you like, I can suggest a still simpler way; you need not shed all this blood in sacrifice to any God, nor employ an expensive priest; put into an urn a set of tablets, each marked with a philosopher’s name, and tell a boy (he must be quite young, and his parents both be living) to go to the urn and pick out whichever tablet his hand first touches; and live a philosopher ever after, of the school which then comes out triumphant215.
Her. This is buffoonery, Lycinus; I should not have expected it of you. Now tell me, did you ever buy wine? in person, I mean.
Ly. Many a time.
Her. Well, did you go to every wine vault216 in town, one after another, tasting and comparing?
Ly. Certainly not.
Her. No; as soon as you find good sound stuff, you have only to get it sent home.
Ly. To be sure.
Her. And from that little taste you could have answered for the quality of the whole?
Ly. Yes.
Her. Now suppose you had gone to all the wine-merchants and said: I want to buy a pint217 of wine; I must ask you, gentlemen, to let me drink the whole of the cask which each of you has on tap; after that exhaustive sampling, I shall know which of you keeps the best wine, and is the man for my money. If you had talked like that, they might have laughed at you, and, if you persisted in worrying them, have tried how you liked water.
Ly. Yes; it would be no more than my deserts.
Her. Apply this to philosophy. What need to drink the whole cask, when you can judge the quality of the whole from one little taste?
Ly. What an adept218 at evasion219 you are, Hermotimus! How you slip through one’s fingers! However, it is all the better this time; you fancied yourself out, but you have flopped220 into the net again.
Her. What do you mean?
Ly. You take a thing whose nature is self-evident and universally admitted, like wine, and argue from it to perfectly unlike things, whose nature is obscure and generally debated. In fact I cannot tell what analogy you find between philosophy and wine; there is just one, indeed: philosophers and wine-merchants both sell their wares221, mostly resorting to adulteration, fraud, and false measures, in the process. But let us look into your real meaning. You say all the wine in a cask is of the same quality — which is perfectly reasonable; further, that any one who draws and tastes quite a small quantity will know at once the quality of the whole — of which the same may be said; I should never have thought of objecting. But mark what comes now: do philosophy and its professors (your own, for instance) give you every day the same remarks on the same subjects, or do they vary them? They vary them a great deal, friend; you would never have stuck to your master through your twenty years’ wandering — quite a philosophic Odyssey222 — if he had always said the same thing; one hearing would have been enough.
Her. So it would.
Ly. How could you have known the whole of his doctrines from the first taste, then? They were not homogeneous, like the wine; novelty today, and novelty tomorrow on the top of it. Consequently, dear friend, short of drinking the whole cask, you might soak to no purpose; Providence223 seems to me to have hidden the philosophic Good right at the bottom, underneath224 the lees. So you will have to drain it dry, or you will never get to that nectar for which I know you have so long thirsted. According to your idea, it has such virtue that, could you once taste it and swallow the very least drop, you would straightway have perfect wisdom; so they say the Delphian prophetess is inspired by one draught176 of the sacred spring with answers for those who consult the oracle225. But it seems not to be so; you have drunk more than half the cask; yet you told me you were only beginning yet.
Now see whether this is not a better analogy. You shall keep your merchant, and your cask; but the contents of the latter are not to be wine, but assorted226 seeds. On the top is wheat, next beans, then barley227, below that lentils, then peas — and other kinds yet. You go to buy seeds, and he takes some wheat out of that layer, and puts it in your hand as a sample; now, could you tell by looking at that whether the peas were Sound, the lentils tender, and the beans full?
Her. Impossible.
Ly. No more can you tell the quality of a philosophy from the first statements of its professor; it is not uniform, like the wine to which you compared it, claiming that it must resemble the sample glass; it is heterogeneous228, and it had better not be cursorily229 tested. If you buy bad wine, the loss is limited to a few pence; but to rot with the common herd (in your own words) is not so light a loss. Moreover, your man who wants to drink up the cask as a preliminary to buying a pint will injure the merchant, with his dubious230 sampling; but philosophy knows no such danger; you may drink your fill, but this cask grows no emptier, and its owner suffers no loss. It is cut and come again here; we have the converse156 of the Danaids’ cask; that would not hold what was put into it; it ran straight through; but here, the more you take away, the more remains231.
And I have another similar remark to make about these specimen232 drops of philosophy. Do not fancy I am libelling it, if I say it is like hemlock233, aconite, or other deadly poison. Those too, though they have death in them, will not kill if a man scrapes off the tiniest particle with the edge of his nail and tastes it; if they are not taken in the right quantity, the right manner, and the right vehicle, the taker will not die; you were wrong in claiming that the least possible quantity is enough to base a generalization234 on.
Her. Oh, have it your own way, Lycinus. Well then, we have got to live a hundred years, and go through all this trouble? There is no other road to philosophy?
Ly. No, none; and we need not complain; as you very truly said, ars longa, vita brevis. But I do not know what has come over you; you now make a grievance235 of it, if you cannot before set of sun develop into a Chrysippus, a Plato, a Pythagoras.
Her. You trap me, and drive me into a corner, Lycinus; yet I never provoked you; it is all envy, I know, because I have made some progress in my studies, whereas you have neglected yourself, when you were old enough to know better.
Ly. Seest, then, thy true course? never mind me, but leave me as a lunatic to my follies236, and you go on your way and accomplish what you have intended all this time.
Her. But you are so masterful, you will not let me make a choice, till I have proved all.
Ly. Why, I confess, you will never get me to budge237 from that. But when you call me masterful, it seems to me you blame the blameless, as the poet says; for I am myself being dragged along by reason, until you bring up some other reason to release me from durance. And here is reason about to talk more masterfully still, you will see; but I suppose you will exonerate238 it, and blame me.
Her. What can it be? I am surprised to hear it still has anything in reserve.
Ly. It says that seeing and going through all philosophies will not suffice, if you want to choose the best of them; the most important qualification is still missing.
Her. Indeed? Which?
Ly. Why (bear with me), a critical investigating faculty, mental acumen239, intellectual precision and independence equal to the occasion; without this, the completest inspection240 will be useless. Reason insists that the owner of it must further be allowed ample time; he will collect the rival candidates together, and make his choice with long, lingering, repeated deliberation; he will give no heed to the candidate’s age, appearance, or repute for wisdom, but perform his functions like the Areopagites, who judge in the darkness of night, so that they must regard not the pleaders, but the pleadings. Then and not till then will you be able to make a sound choice and live a philosopher.
Her. Live? an after life, then. No mortal span will meet your demands; let me see: go the whole round, examine each with care, on that examination form a judgement, on that judgement make a choice, on that choice be a philosopher; so and no otherwise you say the truth may be found.
Ly. I hardly dare tell you — even that is not exhaustive; I am afraid, after all, the solid basis we thought we had found was imaginary. You know how fishermen often let down their nets, feel a weight, and pull them up expecting a great haul; when they have got them up with much toil, behold241, a stone, or an old pot full of sand. I fear our catch is one of those.
Her. I don’t know what this particular net may be; your nets are all round me, anyhow.
Ly. Well, try and get through; providentially, you are as good a swimmer as can be. Now, this is it: granted that we go all round experimenting, and get it done at last, too, I do not believe we shall have solved the elementary question, whether any of them has the much-desired; perhaps they are all wrong together.
Her. Oh, come now! not one of them right either?
Ly. I cannot tell. Do you think it impossible they may all be deluded, and the truth be something which none of them has yet found?
Her. How can it possibly be?
Ly. This way: take a correct number, twenty; suppose, I mean, a man has twenty beans in his closed hand, and asks ten different persons to guess the number; they guess seven, five, thirty, ten, fifteen — various numbers, in short. It is possible, I suppose, that one may be right?
Her. Yes.
Ly. It is not impossible, however, that they may all guess different incorrect numbers, and not one of them suggest twenty beans. What say you?
Her. It is not impossible.
Ly. In the same way, all philosophers are investigating the nature of Happiness; they get different answers one Pleasure, another Goodness, and so through the list. It is probable that Happiness is one of these; but it is also not improbable that it is something else altogether. We seem to have reversed the proper procedure, and hurried on to the end before we had found the beginning I suppose we ought first to have ascertained242 that the truth has actually been discovered, and that some philosopher or other has it, and only then to have gone on to the next question, which of them is to be believed.
Her. So that, even if we go all through all philosophy, we shall have no certainty of finding the truth even then; that is what you say.
Ly. Please, please do not ask me; once more, apply to reason itself. Its answer will perhaps be that there can be no certainty yet — as long as we cannot be sure that it is one or other of the things they say it is.
Her. Then, according to you, we shall never finish our quest nor be philosophers, but have to give it up and live the life of laymen. What you say amounts to that: philosophy is impossible and inaccessible243 to a mere mortal; for you expect the aspirant244 first to choose the best philosophy; and you considered that the only guarantee of such choice’s being correct was to go through all philosophy before choosing the truest. Then in reckoning the number of years required by each you spurned245 all limits, extended the thing to several generations, and made out the quest of truth too long for the individual life; and now you crown all by proving success doubtful even apart from all that; you say it is uncertain whether the philosophers have ever found truth at all.
Ly. Could you state on oath that they have?
Her. Not on oath, no.
Ly. And yet there is much that I have intentionally246 spared you, though it merits careful examination too.
Her. For instance?
Ly. Is it not said that, among the professed247 Stoics, Platonists, and Epicureans, some do know their respective doctrines, and some do not (without prejudice to their general respectability)?
Her. That is true.
Ly. Well, don’t you think it will be a troublesome business to distinguish the first, and know them from the ignorant professors?
Her. Very.
Ly. So, if you are to recognize the best of the Stoics, you will have to go to most, if not all, of them, make trial, and appoint the best your teacher, first going through a course of training to provide you with the appropriate critical faculty; otherwise you might mistakenly prefer the wrong one. Now reflect on the additional time this will mean; I purposely left it out of account, because I was afraid you might be angry; all the same, it is the most important and necessary thing of all in questions like this — so uncertain and dubious, I mean. For the discovery of truth, your one and only sure or well-founded hope is the possession of this power: you must be able to judge and sift43 truth from falsehood; you must have the assayer’s sense for sound and true or forged coin; if you could have come to your examination of doctrines equipped with a technical skill like that, I should have nothing to say; but without it there is nothing to prevent their severally leading you by the nose; you will follow a dangled248 bunch of carrots like a donkey; or, better still, you will be water spilt on a table, trained whichever way one chooses with a finger-tip; or again, a reed growing on a river’s bank, bending to every breath, however gentle the breeze that shakes it in its passage.
If you could find a teacher, now, who understood demonstration192 and controversial method, and would impart his knowledge to you, you would be quit of your troubles; the best and the true would straightway be revealed to you, at the bidding of this art of demonstration, while falsehood would stand convicted; you would make your choice with confidence; judgement would be followed by philosophy; you would reach your long-desired Happiness, and live in its company, which sums up all good things.
Her. Thank you, Lycinus; that is a much better hearing; there is more than a glimpse of hope in that. We must surely look for a man of that sort, to give us discernment, judgement, and, above all, the power of demonstration; then all will be easy and clear, and not too long. I am grateful to you already for thinking of this short and excellent plan.
Ly. Ah, no, I cannot fairly claim gratitude249 yet. I have not discovered or revealed anything that will bring you nearer your hope; on the contrary, we are further off than ever; it is a case of much cry and little wool.
Her. Bird of ill omen, pessimist250, explain yourself.
Ly. Why, my friend, even if we find some one who claims to know this art of demonstration, and is willing to impart it, we shall surely not take his word for it straight off; we shall look about for another man to resolve us whether the first is telling the truth. Finding number two, we shall still be uncertain whether our guarantor really knows the difference between a good judge and a bad, and shall need a number three to guarantee number two; for how can we possibly know ourselves how to select the best judge? You see how far this must go; the thing is unending; its nature does not allow us to draw the line and put a stop to it; for you will observe that all the demonstrations that can possibly be thought of are themselves unfounded and open to dispute; most of them struggle to establish their certainty by appealing to facts as questionable251 as themselves; and the rest produce certain truisms with which they compare, quite illegitimately, the most speculative252 theories, and then say they have demonstrated the latter: our eyes tell us there are altars to the Gods; therefore there must be Gods; that is the sort of thing.
Her. How unkindly you treat me, Lycinus, turning my treasure into ashes; I suppose all these years are to have been lost labour.
Ly. At least your chagrin253 will be considerably254 lessened255 by the thought that you are not alone in your disappointment; practically all who pursue philosophy do no more than disquiet256 themselves in vain. Who could conceivably go through all the stages I have rehearsed? you admit the impossibility yourself. As to your present mood, it is that of the man who cries and curses his luck because he cannot climb the sky, or plunge257 into the depths of the sea at Sicily and come up at Cyprus, or soar on wings and fly within the day from Greece to India; what is responsible for his discontent is his basing of hopes on a dream-vision or his own wild fancy, without ever asking whether his aspirations258 were realizable or consistent with humanity. You too, my friend, have been having a long and marvellous dream; and now reason has stuck a pin into you and startled you out of your sleep; your eyes are only half open yet, you are reluctant to shake off a sleep which has shown you such fair visions, and so you scold. It is just the condition of the day-dreamer; he is rolling in gold, digging up treasure, sitting on his throne, or somehow at the summit of bliss; for dame How-I-wish is a lavish259 facile Goddess, that will never turn a deaf ear to her votary260, though he have a mind to fly, or change statures with Colossus, or strike a gold-reef; well, in the middle of all this, in comes his servant with some every-day question, wanting to know where he is to get bread, or what he shall say to the landlord, tired of waiting for his rent; and then he flies into a temper, as though the intrusive261 questioner had robbed him of all his bliss, and is ready to bite the poor fellow’s nose off.
As you love me, do not treat me like that. I see you digging up treasure, spreading your wings, nursing extravagant ideas, indulging impossible hopes; and I love you too well to leave you to the company of a life-long dream — a pleasant one, if you will, but yet a dream; I beseech262 you to get up and take to some every-day business, such as may direct the rest of your life’s course by common sense. Your acts and your thoughts up to now have been no more than Centaurs263, Chimeras264, Gorgons, or what else is figured by dreams and poets and painters, chartered libertines265 all, who reek266 not of what has been or may be. Yet the common folk believe them, bewitched by tale and picture just because they are strange and monstrous267.
I fancy you hearing from some teller268 of tales how there is a certain lady of perfect beauty, beyond the Graces themselves or the Heavenly Aphrodite, and then, without ever an inquiry whether his tale is true, and such a person to be found on earth, falling straight in love with her, like Medea in the story enamoured of a dream-Jason. And what most drew you on to love, you and the others who worship the same phantom50, was, if I am not mistaken, the consistent way in which the inventor of the lady added to his picture, when once he had got your ear. That was the only thing you all looked to, with that he turned you about as he would, having got his first hold upon you, averring269 that he was leading you the straight way to your beloved. After the first step, you see, all was easy; none of you ever looked round when he came to the entrance, and inquired whether it was the right one, or whether he had accidentally taken the wrong; no, you all followed in your predecessors’ footsteps, like sheep after the bell-wether, whereas the right thing was to decide at the entrance whether you should go in.
Perhaps an illustration will make my meaning clearer: when one of those audacious poets affirms that there was once a three-headed and six-handed man, if you accept that quietly without questioning its possibility, he will proceed to fill in the picture consistently — six eyes and ears, three voices talking at once, three mouths eating, and thirty fingers instead of our poor ten all told; if he has to fight, three of his hands will have a buckler, wicker targe, or shield apiece, while of the other three one swings an axe270, another hurls271 a spear, and the third wields272 a sword. It is too late to carp at these details, when they come; they are consistent with the beginning; it was about that that the question ought to have been raised whether it was to be accepted and passed as true. Once grant that, and the rest comes flooding in, irresistible273, hardly now susceptible274 of doubt, because it is consistent and accordant with your initial admissions. That is just your case; your love-yearning would not allow you to look into the facts at each entrance, and so you are dragged on by consistency275; it never occurs to you that a thing may be self-consistent and yet false; if a man says twice five is seven, and you take his word for it without checking the sum, he will naturally deduce that four times five is fourteen, and so on ad libitum. This is the way that weird276 geometry proceeds: it sets before beginners certain strange assumptions, and insists on their granting the existence of inconceivable things, such as points having no parts, lines without breadth, and so on, builds on these rotten foundations a superstructure equally rotten, and pretends to go on to a demonstration which is true, though it starts from premisses which are false.
Just so you, when you have granted the principles of any school, believe in the deductions277 from them, and take their consistency, false as it is, for a guarantee of truth. Then with some of you, hope travels through, and you die before you have seen the truth and detected your deceivers, while the rest, disillusioned278 too late, will not turn back for shame: what, confess at their years that they have been abused with toys all this time? so they hold on desperately279, putting the best face upon it and making all the converts they can, to have the consolation280 of good company in their deception281; they are well aware that to speak out is to sacrifice the respect and superiority and honour they are accustomed to; so they will not do it if it may be helped, knowing the height from which they will fall to the common level. Just a few are found with the courage to say they were deluded, and warn other aspirants282. Meeting such a one, call him a good man, a true and an honest; nay, call him philosopher, if you will; to my mind, the name is his or no one’s; the rest either have no knowledge of the truth, though they think they have, or else have knowledge and hide it, shamefaced cowards clinging to reputation.
But now for goodness’ sake let us drop all this, cover it up with an amnesty, and let it be as if it had not been said; let us, assume that the Stoic philosophy, and no other, is correct; then we can examine whether it is practicable and possible, or its disciples wasting their pains; it makes wonderful promises, I am told, about the Happiness in store for those who reach the summit; for none but they shall enter into full possession of the true Good. The next point you must help me with — whether you have ever met such a Stoic, such a pattern of Stoicism, as to be unconscious of pain, untempted by pleasure, free from wrath, superior to envy, contemptuous of wealth, and, in one word, Happy; such should the example and model of the Virtuous life be; for any one who falls short in the slightest degree, even though he is better than other men at all points, is not complete, and in that case not yet Happy.
Her. I never saw such a man.
Ly. I am glad you do not palter with the truth. But what are your hopes in pursuing philosophy, then? You see that neither your own teacher, nor his, nor his again, and so on to the tenth generation, has been absolutely wise and so attained Happiness. It will not serve you to say that it is enough to get near Happiness; that is no good; a person on the doorstep is just as much outside and in the air as another a long way off, though with the difference that the former is tantalized283 by a nearer view. So it is to get into the neighbourhood of Happiness — I will grant you so much — that you toil like this, wearing yourself away, letting this great portion of your life slip from you, while you are sunk in dullness and wakeful weariness; and you are to go on with it for twenty more years at the least, you tell me, to take your place when you are eighty — always assuming some one to assure you that length of days — in the ranks of the not yet Happy. Or perhaps you reckon on being the exception; you are to crown your pursuit by attaining284 what many a good man before you, swifter far, has pursued and never overtaken.
Well, overtake it, if that is your plan, grasp it and have it whole, this something, mysterious to me, of which the possession is sufficient reward for such toils; this something which I wonder how long you will have the enjoyment of, old man that you will be, past all pleasure, with one foot in the grave; ah, but perhaps, like a brave soul, you are getting ready for another life, that you may spend it the better when you come to it, having learned how to live: as though one should take so long preparing and elaborating a superlative dinner that he fainted with hunger and exhaustion285!
However, there is another thing I do not think you have observed: Virtue is manifested, of course, in action, in doing what is just and wise and manly; but you — and when I say you, I mean the most advanced philosophers — you do not seek these things and ensue them, but spend the greater part of your life conning over miserable286 sentences and demonstrations and problems; it is the man who does best at these that you hail a glorious victor. And I believe that is why you admire this experienced old professor of yours: he nonplusses his associates, knows how to put crafty287 questions and inveigle288 you into pitfalls289; so you pay no attention to the fruit — which consists in action — but are extremely busy with the husks, and smother290 each other with the leaves in your debates; come now, Hermotimus, what else are you about from morning to night?
Her. Nothing; that is what it comes to.
Ly. Is it wronging you to say that you hunt the shadow or the snake’s dead slough, and neglect the solid body or the creeping thing itself? You are no better than a man pouring water into a mortar291 and braying293 it with an iron pestle294; he thinks he is doing a necessary useful job, whereas, let him bray292 till all’s blue (excuse the slang), the water is as much water as ever it was.
And here let me ask you whether, putting aside his discourse, you would choose to resemble your master, and be as passionate295, as sordid296, as quarrelsome, ay, and as addicted297 to pleasure (though that trait of his is not generally known). Why no answer, Hermotimus? Shall I tell you a plea for philosophy which I lately heard? It was from the mouth of an old, old man, who has quite a company of young disciples. He was angrily demanding his fees from one of these; they were long overdue298, he said; the day stated in the agreement was the first of the month, and it was now the fifteenth.
The youth’s uncle was there, a rustic299 person without any notion of your refinements300; and by way of stilling the storm, Come, come, sir, says he, you need not make such a fuss because we have bought words of you and not yet settled the bill. As to what you have sold us, you have got it still; your stock of learning is none the less; and in what I really sent the boy to you for, you have not improved him a bit; he has carried off and seduced301 neighbour Echecrates’s daughter, and there would have been an action for assault, only Echecrates is a poor man; but the prank302 cost me a couple of hundred. And the other day he struck his mother; she had tried to stop him when he was smuggling303 wine out of the house, for one of his club-dinners, I suppose. As to temper and conceit83 and impudence304 and brass305 and lying, he was not half so bad twelve months ago as he is now. That is where I should have liked him to profit by your teaching; and we could have done, without his knowing the stuff he reels of at table every day: ‘a crocodile 34 seized hold of a baby,’ says he, ‘and promised to give it back if its father could answer’— the Lord knows what; or how, ‘day 35 being, night cannot be’; and sometimes his worship twists round what we say somehow or other, till there we are with horns 36 on our heads! We just laugh at it — most of all when he stuffs up his ears and repeats to himself what he calls temperaments306 and conditions and conceptions and impressions, and a lot more like that. And he tells us God is not in heaven, but goes about in everything, wood and stone and animals — the meanest of them, too; and if his mother asks him why he talks such stuff, he laughs at her and says if once he gets the ‘stuff’ pat off, there will be nothing to prevent him from being the only rich man, the only king, and counting every one else slaves and offscourings.
When he had finished, mark the reverend philosopher’s answer. You should consider, he said, that if he had never come to me, he would have behaved far worse — very possibly have come to the gallows307. As it is, philosophy and the respect he has for it have been a check upon him, so that you find he keeps within bounds and is not quite unbearable308; the philosophic system and name tutor him with their presence, and the thought of disgracing them shames him. I should be quite justified in taking your money, if not for any positive improvement I have effected, yet for the abstentions due to his respect for philosophy; the very nurses will tell you as much: children should go to school, because, even if they are not old enough to learn, they will at least be out of mischief309 there. My conscience is quite easy about him; if you like to select any of your friends who is acquainted with Stoicism and bring him here tomorrow, you shall see how the boy can question and answer, how much he has learnt, how many books he has read on axioms, syllogisms, conceptions, duty, and all sorts of subjects. As for his hitting his mother or seducing310 girls, what have I to do with that? am I his keeper?
A dignified311 defence of philosophy for an old man! Perhaps you will say too that it is a good enough reason for pursuing it, if it will keep us from worse employments. Were our original expectations from philosophy at all of a different nature, by the way? did they contemplate312 anything beyond a more decent behaviour than the average? Why this obstinate313 silence?
Her. Oh, why but that I could cry like a baby? It cuts me to the heart, it is all so true; it is too much for me, when I think of my wretched, wasted years — paying all that money for my own labour, too! I am sober again after a debauch314, I see what the object of my maudlin315 affection is like, and what it has brought upon me.
Ly. No need for tears, dear fellow; that is a very sensible fable316 of Aesop’s. A man sat on the shore and counted the waves breaking; missing count, he was excessively annoyed. But the fox came up and said to him: ‘Why vex317 yourself, good sir, over the past ones? you should let them go, and begin counting afresh.’ So you, since this is your mind, had better reconcile yourself now to living like an ordinary man; you will give up your extravagant haughty318 hopes and put yourself on a level with the commonalty; if you are sensible, you will not be ashamed to unlearn in your old age, and change your course for a better.
Now I beg you not to fancy that I have said all this as an anti-Stoic, moved by any special dislike of your school; my arguments hold against all schools. I should have said just the same if you had chosen Plato or Aristotle, and condemned the others unheard. But, as Stoicism was your choice, the argument has seemed to be aimed at that, though it had no such special application.
Her. You are quite right. And now I will be off to metamorphose myself. When we next meet, there will be no long, shaggy beard, no artificial composure; I shall be natural, as a gentleman should. I may go as far as a fashionable coat, by way of publishing my renunciation of nonsense. I only wish there were an emetic319 that would purge45 out every doctrine they have instilled320 into me; I assure you, if I could reverse Chrysippus’s plan with the hellebore, and drink forgetfulness, not of the world but of Stoicism, I would not think twice about it. Well, Lycinus, I owe you a debt indeed; I was being swept along in a rough turbid321 torrent322, unresisting, drifting with the stream; when lo, you stood there and fished me out, a true deus ex machina. I have good enough reason, I think, to shave my head like the people who get clear off from a wreck323; for I am to make votive offerings today for the dispersion of that thick cloud which was over my eyes. Henceforth, if I meet a philosopher on my walks (and it will not be with my will), I shall turn aside and avoid him as I would a mad dog.
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1 conning | |
v.诈骗,哄骗( con的现在分词 );指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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adj.狡猾的,奸诈的;(工作等)棘手的,微妙的 | |
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4 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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5 impeachment | |
n.弹劾;控告;怀疑 | |
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6 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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n.刺,戳,袋;vt.拨开,刺,戳;vi.戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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8 attain | |
vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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9 contemplating | |
深思,细想,仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 ); 注视,凝视; 考虑接受(发生某事的可能性); 深思熟虑,沉思,苦思冥想 | |
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adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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n.兽群,牧群;vt.使集中,把…赶在一起 | |
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14 alas | |
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15 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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16 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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17 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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18 helping | |
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19 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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20 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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n.达到,到达;[常pl.]成就,造诣 | |
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29 positively | |
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adj.卑下的,奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节,奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 );趴 | |
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vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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33 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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34 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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37 lug | |
n.柄,突出部,螺帽;(英)耳朵;(俚)笨蛋;vt.拖,拉,用力拖动 | |
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38 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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39 toils | |
网 | |
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40 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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41 nought | |
n./adj.无,零 | |
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42 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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43 sift | |
v.筛撒,纷落,详察 | |
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44 sifted | |
v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
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45 purge | |
n.整肃,清除,泻药,净化;vt.净化,清除,摆脱;vi.清除,通便,腹泻,变得清洁 | |
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46 purged | |
清除(政敌等)( purge的过去式和过去分词 ); 涤除(罪恶等); 净化(心灵、风气等); 消除(错事等)的不良影响 | |
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47 philosophic | |
adj.哲学的,贤明的 | |
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48 deluded | |
v.欺骗,哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49 phantoms | |
n.鬼怪,幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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50 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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51 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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52 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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53 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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54 pry | |
vi.窥(刺)探,打听;vt.撬动(开,起) | |
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55 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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56 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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57 fuming | |
愤怒( fume的现在分词 ); 大怒; 发怒; 冒烟 | |
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58 indigence | |
n.贫穷 | |
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59 peripatetic | |
adj.漫游的,逍遥派的,巡回的 | |
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60 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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61 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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62 perspiration | |
n.汗水;出汗 | |
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63 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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64 stoics | |
禁欲主义者,恬淡寡欲的人,不以苦乐为意的人( stoic的名词复数 ) | |
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65 stoic | |
n.坚忍克己之人,禁欲主义者 | |
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66 pretentious | |
adj.自命不凡的,自负的,炫耀的 | |
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67 goblet | |
n.高脚酒杯 | |
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68 doctrines | |
n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 );教义;学说;(政府政策的)正式声明 | |
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69 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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70 abstain | |
v.自制,戒绝,弃权,避免 | |
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71 follower | |
n.跟随者;随员;门徒;信徒 | |
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72 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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73 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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74 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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75 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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76 layman | |
n.俗人,门外汉,凡人 | |
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77 recondite | |
adj.深奥的,难解的 | |
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78 disciples | |
n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 );门徒;耶稣的信徒;(尤指)耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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79 hoaxing | |
v.开玩笑骗某人,戏弄某人( hoax的现在分词 ) | |
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80 avaricious | |
adj.贪婪的,贪心的 | |
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81 contentious | |
adj.好辩的,善争吵的 | |
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82 conceited | |
adj.自负的,骄傲自满的 | |
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83 conceit | |
n.自负,自高自大 | |
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84 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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85 excellences | |
n.卓越( excellence的名词复数 );(只用于所修饰的名词后)杰出的;卓越的;出类拔萃的 | |
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86 laymen | |
门外汉,外行人( layman的名词复数 ); 普通教徒(有别于神职人员) | |
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87 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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88 groomed | |
v.照料或梳洗(马等)( groom的过去式和过去分词 );使做好准备;训练;(给动物)擦洗 | |
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89 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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90 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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91 repulsive | |
adj.排斥的,使人反感的 | |
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92 negligence | |
n.疏忽,玩忽,粗心大意 | |
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93 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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94 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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95 condemn | |
vt.谴责,指责;宣判(罪犯),判刑 | |
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96 attire | |
v.穿衣,装扮[同]array;n.衣着;盛装 | |
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97 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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98 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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99 acuity | |
n.敏锐,(疾病的)剧烈 | |
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100 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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101 indictment | |
n.起诉;诉状 | |
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102 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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103 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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104 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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105 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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106 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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107 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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108 rivalry | |
n.竞争,竞赛,对抗 | |
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109 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110 undesirable | |
adj.不受欢迎的,不良的,不合意的,讨厌的;n.不受欢迎的人,不良分子 | |
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111 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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112 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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113 yearn | |
v.想念;怀念;渴望 | |
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114 franchise | |
n.特许,特权,专营权,特许权 | |
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115 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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116 enroll | |
v.招收;登记;入学;参军;成为会员(英)enrol | |
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117 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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118 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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119 barbarians | |
n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 );外国人;粗野的人;无教养的人 | |
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120 dwarfs | |
n.侏儒,矮子(dwarf的复数形式)vt.(使)显得矮小(dwarf的第三人称单数形式) | |
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121 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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122 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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123 perseverance | |
n.坚持不懈,不屈不挠 | |
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124 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
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125 bard | |
n.吟游诗人 | |
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126 exhortation | |
n.劝告,规劝 | |
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127 assertiveness | |
n.过分自信 | |
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128 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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129 dart | |
v.猛冲,投掷;n.飞镖,猛冲 | |
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130 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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131 archer | |
n.射手,弓箭手 | |
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132 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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133 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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134 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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135 impartially | |
adv.公平地,无私地 | |
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136 constructive | |
adj.建设的,建设性的 | |
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137 defamation | |
n.诽谤;中伤 | |
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138 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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139 exalt | |
v.赞扬,歌颂,晋升,提升 | |
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140 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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141 sifting | |
n.筛,过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
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142 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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143 rebuke | |
v.指责,非难,斥责 [反]praise | |
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144 analogue | |
n.类似物;同源语 | |
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145 demolishes | |
v.摧毁( demolish的第三人称单数 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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146 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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147 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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148 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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149 stationary | |
adj.固定的,静止不动的 | |
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150 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
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151 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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152 plume | |
n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
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153 anecdote | |
n.轶事,趣闻,短故事 | |
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154 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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155 conversed | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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156 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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157 superfluous | |
adj.过多的,过剩的,多余的 | |
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158 mathematicians | |
数学家( mathematician的名词复数 ) | |
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159 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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160 adjure | |
v.郑重敦促(恳请) | |
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161 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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162 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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163 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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164 athletic | |
adj.擅长运动的,强健的;活跃的,体格健壮的 | |
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165 stewards | |
(轮船、飞机等的)乘务员( steward的名词复数 ); (俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的)管理员; (大型活动的)组织者; (私人家中的)管家 | |
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166 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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167 consecrated | |
adj.神圣的,被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣,给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 );奉献 | |
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168 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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169 iota | |
n.些微,一点儿 | |
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170 holder | |
n.持有者,占有者;(台,架等)支持物 | |
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171 deltas | |
希腊字母表中第四个字母( delta的名词复数 ); (河口的)三角洲 | |
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172 extol | |
v.赞美,颂扬 | |
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173 alphabetical | |
adj.字母(表)的,依字母顺序的 | |
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174 random | |
adj.随机的;任意的;n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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175 hybrids | |
n.杂交生成的生物体( hybrid的名词复数 );杂交植物(或动物);杂种;(不同事物的)混合物 | |
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176 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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177 plausible | |
adj.似真实的,似乎有理的,似乎可信的 | |
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178 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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179 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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180 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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181 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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182 labyrinth | |
n.迷宫;难解的事物;迷路 | |
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183 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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184 labyrinths | |
迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 ); (文字,建筑)错综复杂的 | |
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185 deduct | |
vt.扣除,减去 | |
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186 halve | |
vt.分成两半,平分;减少到一半 | |
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187 divination | |
n.占卜,预测 | |
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188 longevity | |
n.长命;长寿 | |
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189 plunging | |
adj.跳进的,突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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190 slough | |
v.蜕皮,脱落,抛弃 | |
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191 demonstrations | |
证明( demonstration的名词复数 ); 表明; 表达; 游行示威 | |
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192 demonstration | |
n.表明,示范,论证,示威 | |
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193 durability | |
n.经久性,耐用性 | |
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194 detest | |
vt.痛恨,憎恶 | |
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195 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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196 blurts | |
v.突然说出,脱口而出( blurt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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197 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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198 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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199 delusions | |
n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 );谬见;错觉;妄想 | |
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200 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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201 professing | |
声称( profess的现在分词 ); 宣称; 公开表明; 信奉 | |
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202 phoenix | |
n.凤凰,长生(不死)鸟;引申为重生 | |
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203 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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204 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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205 eschewing | |
v.(尤指为道德或实际理由而)习惯性避开,回避( eschew的现在分词 ) | |
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206 sculptor | |
n.雕刻家,雕刻家 | |
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207 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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208 scrupulous | |
adj.审慎的,小心翼翼的,完全的,纯粹的 | |
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209 exacting | |
adj.苛求的,要求严格的 | |
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210 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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211 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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212 rudiments | |
n.基础知识,入门 | |
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213 intelligible | |
adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
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214 conscientious | |
adj.审慎正直的,认真的,本着良心的 | |
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215 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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216 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
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217 pint | |
n.品脱 | |
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218 adept | |
adj.老练的,精通的 | |
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219 evasion | |
n.逃避,偷漏(税) | |
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220 flopped | |
v.(指书、戏剧等)彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 );(因疲惫而)猛然坐下;(笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地)移动或落下;砸锅 | |
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221 wares | |
n. 货物, 商品 | |
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222 odyssey | |
n.长途冒险旅行;一连串的冒险 | |
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223 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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224 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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225 oracle | |
n.神谕,神谕处,预言 | |
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226 assorted | |
adj.各种各样的,各色俱备的 | |
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227 barley | |
n.大麦,大麦粒 | |
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228 heterogeneous | |
adj.庞杂的;异类的 | |
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229 cursorily | |
adv.粗糙地,疏忽地,马虎地 | |
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230 dubious | |
adj.怀疑的,无把握的;有问题的,靠不住的 | |
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231 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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232 specimen | |
n.样本,标本 | |
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233 hemlock | |
n.毒胡萝卜,铁杉 | |
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234 generalization | |
n.普遍性,一般性,概括 | |
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235 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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236 follies | |
罪恶,时事讽刺剧; 愚蠢,蠢笨,愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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237 budge | |
v.移动一点儿;改变立场 | |
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238 exonerate | |
v.免除责任,确定无罪 | |
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239 acumen | |
n.敏锐,聪明 | |
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240 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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241 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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242 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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243 inaccessible | |
adj.达不到的,难接近的 | |
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244 aspirant | |
n.热望者;adj.渴望的 | |
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245 spurned | |
v.一脚踢开,拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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246 intentionally | |
ad.故意地,有意地 | |
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247 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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248 dangled | |
悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
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249 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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250 pessimist | |
n.悲观者;悲观主义者;厌世 | |
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251 questionable | |
adj.可疑的,有问题的 | |
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252 speculative | |
adj.思索性的,暝想性的,推理的 | |
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253 chagrin | |
n.懊恼;气愤;委屈 | |
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254 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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255 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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256 disquiet | |
n.担心,焦虑 | |
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257 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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258 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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259 lavish | |
adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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260 votary | |
n.崇拜者;爱好者;adj.誓约的,立誓任圣职的 | |
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261 intrusive | |
adj.打搅的;侵扰的 | |
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262 beseech | |
v.祈求,恳求 | |
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263 centaurs | |
n.(希腊神话中)半人半马怪物( centaur的名词复数 ) | |
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264 chimeras | |
n.(由几种动物的各部分构成的)假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 );不可能实现的想法;幻想;妄想 | |
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265 libertines | |
n.放荡不羁的人,淫荡的人( libertine的名词复数 ) | |
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266 reek | |
v.发出臭气;n.恶臭 | |
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267 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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268 teller | |
n.银行出纳员;(选举)计票员 | |
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269 averring | |
v.断言( aver的现在分词 );证实;证明…属实;作为事实提出 | |
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270 axe | |
n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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271 hurls | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的第三人称单数 );大声叫骂 | |
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272 wields | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的第三人称单数 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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273 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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274 susceptible | |
adj.过敏的,敏感的;易动感情的,易受感动的 | |
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275 consistency | |
n.一贯性,前后一致,稳定性;(液体的)浓度 | |
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276 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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277 deductions | |
扣除( deduction的名词复数 ); 结论; 扣除的量; 推演 | |
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278 disillusioned | |
a.不再抱幻想的,大失所望的,幻想破灭的 | |
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279 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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280 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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281 deception | |
n.欺骗,欺诈;骗局,诡计 | |
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282 aspirants | |
n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的,有抱负的,追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 );有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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283 tantalized | |
v.逗弄,引诱,折磨( tantalize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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284 attaining | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的现在分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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285 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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286 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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287 crafty | |
adj.狡猾的,诡诈的 | |
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288 inveigle | |
v.诱骗 | |
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289 pitfalls | |
(捕猎野兽用的)陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 ); 意想不到的困难,易犯的错误 | |
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290 smother | |
vt./vi.使窒息;抑制;闷死;n.浓烟;窒息 | |
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291 mortar | |
n.灰浆,灰泥;迫击炮;v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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292 bray | |
n.驴叫声, 喇叭声;v.驴叫 | |
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293 braying | |
v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 );发嘟嘟声;粗声粗气地讲话(或大笑);猛击 | |
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294 pestle | |
n.杵 | |
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295 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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296 sordid | |
adj.肮脏的,不干净的,卑鄙的,暗淡的 | |
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297 addicted | |
adj.沉溺于....的,对...上瘾的 | |
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298 overdue | |
adj.过期的,到期未付的;早该有的,迟到的 | |
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299 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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300 refinements | |
n.(生活)风雅;精炼( refinement的名词复数 );改良品;细微的改良;优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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301 seduced | |
诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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302 prank | |
n.开玩笑,恶作剧;v.装饰;打扮;炫耀自己 | |
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303 smuggling | |
n.走私 | |
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304 impudence | |
n.厚颜无耻;冒失;无礼 | |
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305 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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306 temperaments | |
性格( temperament的名词复数 ); (人或动物的)气质; 易冲动; (性情)暴躁 | |
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307 gallows | |
n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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308 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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309 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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310 seducing | |
诱奸( seduce的现在分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
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311 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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312 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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313 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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314 debauch | |
v.使堕落,放纵 | |
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315 maudlin | |
adj.感情脆弱的,爱哭的 | |
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316 fable | |
n.寓言;童话;神话 | |
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317 vex | |
vt.使烦恼,使苦恼 | |
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318 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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319 emetic | |
n.催吐剂;adj.催吐的 | |
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320 instilled | |
v.逐渐使某人获得(某种可取的品质),逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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321 turbid | |
adj.混浊的,泥水的,浓的 | |
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322 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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323 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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