Throughout her speech, Folly reserves some of her harshest satire for the philosophers, who, in seeking wisdom, are the natural enemies of folly. In a surprising paradox, she identifies the Ancient Greek philosopher Socrates as the least foolish of the philosophers because he recognized his own foolishness. Folly states:
How ineffective these philosophers are for the work of real life, the one and only Socrates himself [...] will serve for proof. When he tried to urge something, I know not what, in public, he hastily withdrew to the accompaniment of loud laughter from all quarters. Yet Socrates was not altogether foolish in this one respect, that he repudiated the epithet “wise,” and gave it over to God; he also cherished the opinion that a wise man should abstain from meddling in the public business of the commonwealth [...] And then, what but his wisdom drove him, once he had been impeached, to drink the hemlock?
Folly chastises the philosophers for being “ineffective” when it comes time to complete “the work of real life,” suggesting that they are impractical and concern themselves only with useless philosophical questions. She considers Socrates first, arguing that his speeches were met with “loud laughter” from the public. However, Folly does acknowledge that, paradoxically, Socrates was “not altogether foolish,” because he accepted that he was foolish. Socrates, she claims, “repudiated the epithet ‘wise,’” refusing to be honored as a great thinker. Here, she references Socrates’ skepticism of human wisdom as a trait that, paradoxically, made him truly wise.
Folly’s argumentative style typically combines a number of surprising paradoxes with sly rhetorical deceptions and fallacies. Arguing, for example, that foolishness is paradoxically the foundation of all wisdom, Folly claims that:
One never attains to that renowned wisdom [...] except by taking Folly as guide. And first, it is beyond dispute that all emotions belong to folly. Indeed, we distinguish a wise man from a fool by this, that reason governs the one, and passion the other. Thus the Stoics take away from the wise man all perturbations of the soul, as so many diseases. Yet these passions not only discharge the office of mentor and guide to such as are pressing toward the gate of wisdom, but they also assist in every exercise of virtue as spurs and goads—persuaders, as it were—to well doing.
Wisdom, Folly argues, cannot be attained “except by taking Folly as a guide.” She then presents her fallacious but bold reasoning. If, as she argues, wise men are governed by “reason” and foolish men are in contrast governed by “passion,” then it can be concluded that “all emotions belong to folly.” Next, she argues that men are motivated to gain wisdom and accomplish good deeds as a result of their “passions.” Therefore, she concludes, there can be no wisdom without folly. Her reasoning is characteristically fallacious. In the course of her argument, she first equates “folly” with “emotion,” and then “emotion” with both “thought” and “action,” allowing her to make a surprising and paradoxical argument by using words in unfamiliar ways.
