Vulgar little minds see the land open and rush from the prisons of the arts into her temple.

A clever mechanic having a soul coarse as his body, thinks that he will gain caste by becoming her suitor.

For philosophy, even in her fallen estate, has a dignity of her own--and he, like a bald little blacksmith's apprentice as he is, having made some money and got out of durance, washes and dresses himself as a bridegroom and marries his master's daughter.

What will be the issue of such marriages?
Will they not be vile and bastard, devoid of truth and nature?
'They will.' Small, then, is the remnant of genuine philosophers; there may be a few who are citizens of small states, in which politics are not worth thinking of, or who have been detained by Theages' bridle of ill health; for my own case of the oracular sign is almost unique, and too rare to be worth mentioning.

And these few when they have tasted the pleasures of philosophy, and have taken a look at that den of thieves and place of wild beasts, which is human life, will stand aside from the storm under the shelter of a wall, and try to preserve their own innocence and to depart in peace.