[221b] and next I felt—to use a phrase of yours, Aristophanes—how there he stepped along, as his wont is in our streets, ““strutting like a proud marsh-goose, with ever a side-long glance,””1 turning a calm sidelong look on friend and foe alike, and convincing anyone even from afar that whoever cares to touch this person will find he can put up a stout enough defence. The result was that both he and his comrade got away unscathed: for, as a rule, people will not lay a finger on those
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