Phil.  How then is it possible that things perpetually fleeting and variable as our ideas should be copies or images of anything fixed and constant?  Or, in other words, since all sensible qualities, as size, figure, colour, &c., that is, our ideas, are continually changing, upon every alteration in the distance, medium, or instruments of sensation; how can any determinate material objects be properly represented or painted forth by several distinct things, each of which is so different from and unlike the rest?  Or, if you say it resembles some one only of our ideas, how shall we be able to distinguish the true copy from all the false ones?

HYL.  I profess, Philonous, I am at a loss.  I know not what to say to this.

Phil.  But neither is this all.  Which are material objects in themselves—­perceptible or imperceptible?

HYL.  Properly and immediately nothing can be perceived but ideas.  All material things, therefore, are in themselves insensible, and to be perceived only by our ideas.

Phil.  Ideas then are sensible, and their archetypes or originals insensible?

HYL.  Right.

Phil.  But how can that which is sensible be like that which is insensible?  Can a real thing, in itself invisible, be like a colour; or a real thing, which is not audible, be like a sound?  In a word, can anything be like a sensation or idea, but another sensation or idea?

HYL.  I must own, I think not.

Phil.  Is it possible there should be any doubt on the point?  Do. you not perfectly know your own ideas?

HYL.  I know them perfectly; since what I do not perceive or know can be no part of my idea.

Phil.  Consider, therefore, and examine them, and then tell me if there be anything in them which can exist without the mind:  or if you can conceive anything like them existing without the mind.

HYL.  Upon inquiry, I find it is impossible for me to conceive or understand how anything but an idea can be like an idea.  And it is most evident that no idea can exist without the mind.

Phil.  You are therefore, by your principles, forced to deny the reality of sensible things; since you made it to consist in an absolute existence exterior to the mind.  That is to say, you are a downright sceptic.  So I have gained my point, which was to shew your principles led to Scepticism.

HYL.  For the present I am, if not entirely convinced, at least silenced.

Phil.  I would fain know what more you would require in order to a perfect conviction.  Have you not had the liberty of explaining yourself all manner of ways?  Were any little slips in discourse laid hold and insisted on?  Or were you not allowed to retract or reinforce anything you had offered, as best served your purpose?  Hath not everything you could say been heard and examined with all the fairness imaginable?  In a word have you not in every point been convinced out of your own mouth?  And, if you can at present discover any flaw in any of your former concessions, or think of any remaining subterfuge, any new distinction, colour, or comment whatsoever, why do you not produce it?