There everywhere are fools today: at court—where princes love to hear them scoff and jeer at blackguards, fops, and idiots—and in the streets.
One such, a fool who cried the sale of wisdom, was surrounded by a crowd of credulous and eager customers. He gave them, for their money, each a string two arm’s lengths long, and on the face a slap.
His clients grumbled, angry; but what use were their complaints? They should have pocketed their string and slap, and laughing walked away. To search for sense in such a thing is senseless.
One nonetheless besought a wise man to expound the meaning of his purchase.
Said the sage, “These symbols are pellucid. They declare: ‘You would do well to keep between yourself and slapping fools a space a little wider than this string is long.’ That is the wisdom that you bought—and got.”
No esoteric rationality directs the fool; no subtle wit explains his acts. It’s windy chance that steers sick brains.