 In the Introduction to Scepticism from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment, the editors Richard H. Popkin and Charles B. Schmitt write that “Little effort seems to be made to study the classical formulations, and the development of these from Sextus at least to Hume and Kant” (1987: 10); and while that may certainly be true, even less effort has been made to include twentieth century philosophers. In the introduction to Que nada se sabe, Fernando A. Palacios states that for Sanches there was no difference between logic and rhetoric, as they both culminated in a series of language games (1972: 24). Now, it would certainly be wrong to take this analogy too far without due rigorous study, but there are moments in Sanches’ scepticism regarding the truths of metaphysics and language that remind one of the  Wittgenstein  of the Philosophical Investigations (cf. Fogelin 1981). “Sanchez’s Quod nihil scitur almost reads like a twentieth century text of analytic philosophy”, wrote Popkin (1964: 41). And here, for example, such a comparison, and there are many (e.g., Mikko Yrjönsuuri’s with the homunculus of philosophy of mind “who understands mental representations”, 2000: 239), could be a worthwhile starting point. The history of scepticism is inseparable from the history of philosophy, and the history runs backwards and forwards. In that history, Francisco Sanches, even as a “minor” figure, had substantial things to say about philosophy, and we need to overcome the traditional assessments of Sanches, such as J. Iriarte’s (1940: 449–451) or Frederick Copleston’s for whom Sanches “was prevented by his sceptical attitude from making positive and constructive suggestions” (1953: 230). Quite to the contrary, I agree with Agostino Lupoli (2009) that Sanches’ scepticism was constructive and mitigated, and was intended as a form of intellectual therapy. Hence the “Quid?” with which he ended his writings, and with which all philosophy worthy of the name begins.