"
"That," quoth the other complacently, "was my final argument, my
crowning effort, or _peroratio_, as the orators have it. For, coz,
since all thoughts are things, you have but to think a pair of
herrings, and then conjure up a pottle of milk wherewith to wash
them down."
"A brave piece of reasoning," cried the other, "and I know of but
one reply to it." On which, leaning forward, he caught his
comrade a rousing smack across his rosy cheek. "Nay, take it not
amiss," he said, "since all things are but thoughts, then that
also is but a thought and may be disregarded."
This last argument, however, by no means commended itself to the
pupil of Ockham, who plucked a great stick from the ground and
signified his dissent by smiting the realist over the pate with
it. By good fortune, the wood was so light and rotten that it
went to a thousand splinters, but Alleyne thought it best to
leave the twain to settle the matter at their leisure, the more
so as the sun was shining brightly once more. Looking back down
the pool-strewn road, he saw the two excited philosophers waving
their hands and shouting at each other, but their babble soon
became a mere drone in the distance, and a turn in the road hid
them from his sight.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200