and confessing, do they nevertheless say that they ought not to be punished?
_Euth._ They by no means say this.
_Socr._ They do not, therefore, do and say every thing in their power.
For I think they dare not say nor doubt this, that if they act unjustly they ought to suffer punishment; but, I think, they deny that they have acted unjustly: is it not so?
_Euth._ You say truly.
_Socr._ They do not, therefore, doubt this, whether he who acts unjustly ought to be punished; but this, perhaps, they doubt, who has acted unjustly, and by doing what, and when.
_Euth._ You say truly.
_Socr._ Do not, then, the very same things happen to the gods if they quarrel about things just and unjust, according to your statement, and do not some say that they act unjustly towards each other, and others again deny it? For surely, my admirable friend, no one, either of gods or men, dare maintain this, that he who acts unjustly ought not to suffer punishment.
_Euth._ Yes, and what you say is true, Socrates, at least in general.
_Socr._ But they who doubt, Euthyphron, doubt, I think, about each particular that has been done, both men and gods, if the gods do doubt: and when they differ about any action, some say that it has been done justly, and others unjustly: is it not so?
_Euth._ Certainly.
10. _Socr._ Come then, my dear Euthyphron, teach me too, that I may become wiser, what proof you have that all the gods think he died unjustly, who serving for wages and having committed homicide, and being put in chains by the master of the deceased, died in his fetters before he that put him in chains received an answer respecting him from the interpreters, as to what he ought to do; and that for such a cause it is right for a son to prosecute and demand judgment against his father.
Come, endeavour to make it clear to me, with respect to this, that all the gods without exception consider this action to be right. And if you make this sufficiently clear, I will never cease extolling you for your wisdom.
_Euth._ But perhaps this is no trifling matter, Socrates; though I could prove it to you very plainly.
_Socr._ I understand you; I appear to you to be more dull of apprehension than the judges; for it is evident that you will prove to them that it was unjust, and that all the gods hate such actions.
_Euth._ Very plainly, Socrates, if only they will hear what I have to say.
11. _Socr._ But they will hear you, if only you shall appear to speak well. However, while you were speaking, I made this reflexion, and considered within myself: if Euthyphron should certainly convince me that all the gods think such a death to be unjust, what more shall I have learnt from Euthyphron as to what is holy, and what impious? For this action, as it seems, would be hateful to the gods. Yet what was lately defined has not appeared from this, namely what is holy, and what not: for that which is hateful to some gods appeared also to be pleasing to others. So that I grant you this, Euthyphron, and if you please let all the gods think it unjust, and let them all hate it. Shall we, then, make this correction in the definition, and say, that what all the gods hate is impious, and what they love is holy; but that what some love, and others hate, is neither, or both? Are you willing that we should give this definition of the holy and the impious?
_Euth._ What hinders, Socrates?
_Socr._ Nothing hinders me, Euthyphron; but do you, for your part, consider whether, assuming this, you can thus easily teach me what you promised?
_Euth._ But I should say that the holy is that which all the gods love, and the contrary, the impious, that which all the gods hate.
_Socr._ Shall we examine this, then, Euthyphron, whether it is well said? or shall we let it pass, and thus concede both to ourselves and others, that if any one only says that any thing is so, we shall allow that it is? or must we examine what the speaker says?
_Euth._ We must examine it: for my part, however, I think that this is now well said.
12. _Socr._ We shall soon, my good friend, know this more clearly. For consider it in this way: Is the holy loved by the gods because it is holy; or is it holy, because it is loved?
_Euth._ I don’t understand what you mean, Socrates.
_Socr._ I will endeavour, then, to express myself more clearly. We say that a thing is carried, and carries; that it is led, and leads; that it is seen, and sees: and you understand that all things of this kind are different from each other, and in what they differ?
_Euth._ For my part, I seem to understand it.
_Socr._ Is not, then, that which is beloved one thing, and that which loves different from it?
_Euth._ How not?
_Socr._ Tell me, then, is that which is carried, carried because one carries it, or for some other reason?
_Euth._ No, but for this.
_Socr._ And that which is led, because one leads it, and that which is seen, because one sees it?
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ One does not therefore see a thing because it is seen, but on the contrary it is seen because one sees it: nor does one lead a thing because it is led, but it is led because one leads it: nor does one carry a thing because it is carried, but it is carried because one carries it. Is my meaning clear, then, Euthyphron? I mean this, that if one does any thing, or suffers any thing, one does it not because it is done; but it is done because one does it; nor does one suffer any thing because it is suffered, but it is suffered because one suffers: do you not admit this to be the case?
_Euth._ I do.
_Socr._ Is not, then, the being loved, something either done or suffered by some one?
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ And is not the case the same with this as with all the former instances; those who love it do not love it because it is loved, but it is loved, because they love it?
_Euth._ Necessarily so.
_Socr._ What then do we say respecting holiness, Euthyphron? Do not all the gods love it according to your statement?
_Euth._ Yes.
_Socr._ Is it for this reason, because it is holy, or for some other reason?
_Euth._ No, but for this.
_Socr._ They love it then because it is holy, but it is not holy because they love it.
_Euth._ It seems so.
_Socr._ Therefore because the gods love it it is beloved, and that which is pleasing to the gods is pleasing to them.
_Euth._ How not?
_Socr._ That which is pleasing to the gods, therefore, is not holy, Euthyphron, nor is that holy which is pleasing to the gods, as you say, but one is different from the other.
_Euth._ How so, Socrates?
_Socr._ Because we agree that what is holy is therefore loved because it is holy, and that it is not holy because they love it; is it not so?
_Euth._ Yes.
_Socr._ But that which is pleasing to the gods because the gods love it, is from the very circumstance of their loving it pleasing to them; but they do not love it because it is pleasing to them.
_Euth._ You say truly.
_Socr._ But, my dear Euthyphron, if the being pleasing to the gods and being holy were the same thing, since that which is holy is loved because it is holy, that which is pleasing to the gods would also be loved because it is pleasing to them; and if that which is pleasing to the gods were pleasing to them because they love it, that which is holy would also be holy because they love it. Now, however, you see that they are contrary, as being altogether different from each other. For the one is such as is loved because they love it, but the other is loved because it is of such a character that it ought to be loved. And you appear, Euthyphron, when asked what holiness is, not to have been willing to make known to me its essence, but to have mentioned an affection to which this same holiness is subject, namely the being loved by all the gods; but what it is, you have not yet told me. If therefore it is agreeable to you, do not conceal it from me, but again say from the beginning what holiness is, whether it is loved by the gods, or is subject to any other affection: for we shall not differ about this. But tell me frankly what the holy is and what the impious.
_Euth._ But, Socrates, I know not how to tell you what I think. For whatever we put forward some how constantly moves from its position, and will not remain where we have placed it.
_Socr._ What you have advanced, Euthyphron, appears to resemble the statues of my ancestor Dædalus. And if I had said and laid down these things, you would probably have joked me, for that owing to my relationship to him, my works, by way of discussion, escape, and will not remain where one places them. But now, for the hypotheses are yours, there is need of some other raillery. For they will not remain with you, as you too perceive yourself.
_Euth._ But it appears to me, Socrates, that what has been said needs pretty much the same raillery. For I am not the person who causes them to shift about in this way and not remain in the same place, but you appear to me to be the Dædalus. For as far as I am concerned, they would have remained as they were.
_Socr._ I appear, then, my friend, to have become much more skilful than him in my art, in that he only made his own works moveable, but I besides my own, as it seems, make those of others so. And this, moreover, is the most wonderful thing in my art, that I am skilful against any will. For I should wish that my reasonings should remain and be immovably fixed, rather than have the riches of Tantalus, in addition to the skill of Dædalus. But enough of this. 13. Since, however, you appear to be too nice, I will assist you to shew how you may teach me respecting holiness, and not be tired before you have done. For see, whether it does not appear to you to be necessary that every thing that is holy should be just.
_Euth._ To me it does.
_Socr._ Is, then, every thing that is just also holy, or is every thing that is holy just, but not every thing that is just holy, but partly holy, and partly something else?
_Euth._ I do not follow your questions, Socrates.
_Socr._ And yet you are younger no less than wiser than I am; but, as I said, you are too delicate through abundance of wisdom. However, my blessed friend, exert yourself; for it is not difficult to understand what I mean. For I mean the contrary to what the poet said, who wrote, “You are unwilling to mention Jove the creator who made this universe: for where fear is there is also shame.” I, however, differ from this poet. Shall I tell you in what respect?
_Euth._ By all means.
_Socr._ It does not appear to me, that where fear is there is also shame. For there appear to me to be many who fearing diseases, poverty, and many other things of the kind, fear indeed but are by no means ashamed of what they fear. Does it not appear so to you?
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ But wherever shame is, there is also fear: for is there any one who is ashamed of and blushes at any thing, that is not afraid of and does not fear the reputation of baseness?
_Euth._ Assuredly he does fear it.
_Socr._ It is not right, therefore, to say, that where fear is, there also is shame, but where shame is, there also is fear; not however, wherever there is fear, there is also shame. For I think that fear is more extensive than shame; for shame is a part of fear, as the odd is a part of number, so that it does not follow that wherever number is, there also is the odd, but wherever the odd is, there also is number. Do you follow me now?
_Euth._ Perfectly.
_Socr._ I asked you, then, about a thing of this kind above, whether where the just is, there also is the holy, or where the holy is, there also is the just, but wherever the just is, here is not always the holy: for the holy is a part of the just. Shall we say thus, or does it seem to you otherwise?
_Euth._ No, but thus. For you appear to me to speak correctly.
14. _Socr._ Observe then what follows. If the holy is a part of the just, it is necessary, as it seems, that we should find out what part of the just the holy is. If then you were to ask me about some of the things before mentioned, for instance, what part of number the even is, and what number it is, I should say that it is not scalene, but isosceles[165]. Does it not appear so to you?
----- Footnote 165: That is, it can be divided into equal parts, which the odd cannot.
----- _Euth._ It does.
_Socr._ Do you, then, also endeavour in like manner to teach me what part of the just the holy is, that I may tell Melitus no longer to treat me unjustly nor indict me for impiety, since I have now sufficiently learnt from you what things are pious and holy, and what not.
_Euth._ That part of justice then, Socrates, appears to me to be pious and holy, which is concerned about our care for the gods; but that which is concerned about our care for mankind is the remaining part of justice.
15. _Socr._ You appear to me, Euthyphron, to speak well; but I still require a trifle further. For I do not yet understand what care you mean. For you surely do not mean such care is to be had for the gods as is employed about other things. For we say, for instance, not every one knows how to take care of horses, but a groom; do we not?
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ For surely the groom’s business is the taking care of horses.
_Euth._ Yes.
_Socr._ Nor does every one know how to take care of dogs, but a huntsman.
_Euth._ Just so.
_Socr._ For the huntsman’s business is the taking care of dogs.
_Euth._ Yes.
_Socr._ And the herdsman’s of cattle.
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ But holiness and piety of the gods, Euthyphron; do you say so?
_Euth._ I do.
_Socr._ All care, therefore, aims at the same thing, that is to say, it is for some good and advantage of that which is taken care of, as you see that horses, taken care of by one skilled in the groom’s business, are benefited and become better: do they not seem so to you?
_Euth._ They do.
_Socr._ Dogs also are benefited by one skilled in the huntsman’s business, and oxen by that of the herdsman, and all other things in like manner: do you think that the care is employed for the injury of that which is taken care of?
_Euth._ Not I, by Jupiter.
_Socr._ But for its advantage?
_Euth._ How should it not?
_Socr._ Is holiness, therefore, since it is a care for the gods, an advantage to the gods, and does it make the gods better? And would you admit this, that when you do any thing holy, you make some one of the gods better?
_Euth._ Not I, by Jupiter.
_Socr._ Nor do I think, Euthyphron, that you mean this; I am far from doing so: but for this reason I asked you what care for the gods you mean, not thinking that you mean such as this.
_Euth._ And rightly, Socrates; for I do not mean such as this.
_Socr._ Be it so: but what care for the gods will holiness be?
_Euth._ That, Socrates, which slaves take of their masters.
_Socr._ I understand: it will be a kind of service, as it seems, paid to the gods.
_Euth._ Certainly.
16. _Socr._ Can you then tell me, to the performance of what the service of physicians is subservient? Do you not think it is to health?
_Euth._ I do.
_Socr._ But what? to the performance of what work is the service of shipwrights subservient?
_Euth._ Clearly, Socrates, to that of a ship.
_Socr._ And that of architects, to houses?
_Euth._ Yes.
_Socr._ Tell me, then, my excellent friend; to the performance of what work will the service of the gods be subservient? For it is clear that you know, since you say that you have a knowledge of divine things beyond that of other men.
_Euth._ And I say truly, Socrates.
_Socr._ Tell me then, by Jupiter, what is that very beautiful work which the gods effect, by employing us as servants.
_Euth._ They are many and beautiful, Socrates.
_Socr._ So do generals, my friend; though you could easily tell the principal of them, that they effect victory in war; is it not so?
_Euth._ How should I not?
_Socr._ Husbandmen too, I think, effect many and beautiful things; but the principal thing they effect is the production of food from the earth.
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ What then? of the many and beautiful things which the gods effect, what is the principal?
_Euth._ I told you just now, Socrates, that it is a difficult matter to learn all these things accurately; this however I tell you simply, that if any one knows how to speak and do things grateful to the gods, by praying and sacrificing, these things are holy, and such things preserve both private houses and the general weal of cities; but the contraries to things acceptable to them are impious, which also subvert and ruin all things.
17. _Socr._ You might, if you had pleased, Euthyphron, have told me the principal of what I asked in fewer words. But it is clear that you are not willing to teach me. For now when you were just upon the point of doing so, you turned aside; whereas if you had answered, I should by this time have sufficiently learnt from you what holiness is. But now (for it is necessary that he who asks questions should follow the person questioned wherever he may lead) what again do you say is the holy, and holiness? Do you not say it is a knowledge of sacrificing and praying?
_Euth._ I do.
_Socr._ Is not to sacrifice to offer gifts to the gods, and to pray to beg something of the gods?
_Euth._ Assuredly, Socrates.
_Socr._ From this statement it follows that holiness must be a knowledge of begging from and giving to the gods.
_Euth._ You quite understand what I mean, Socrates.
_Socr._ For I am very anxious, my friend, to obtain your wisdom, and I apply my mind to it: so that what you say will not fall to the ground.
But tell me what this service of the gods is? Do you say it is to beg of them and to give to them?
_Euth._ I do.
18. _Socr._ Must we not then, therefore, to beg rightly, beg those things of them which we need from them?
_Euth._ What else?
_Socr._ And again to give rightly must we give them in return such things as they stand in need of from us? For surely it would not be suitable to offer those gifts to any one which he does not need.
_Euth._ You say truly, Socrates.
_Socr._ Holiness, therefore, Euthyphron, will be a kind of traffic between gods and men.
_Euth._ A kind of traffic, if it pleases you to call it so.
_Socr._ But it is not at all pleasing to me, unless it happens to be true. Tell me therefore, what advantage the gods derive from the gifts which they receive from us? For the advantage arising from what they give is clear to every one; for we have no good at all which they do not impart? but how are they benefited by what they receive from us? Do we get so much the advantage over them in this traffic, that we receive all good things from them, but they nothing from us?
_Euth._ But do you think, Socrates, that the gods are benefited by what they receive from us?
_Socr._ What is the use then, Euthyphron, of all our gifts to the gods?
_Euth._ What else do you think except honour and reverence, and, as I just now mentioned, gratitude?
_Socr._ Holiness then, Euthyphron, is that which is grateful, but not profitable or dear to the gods.
_Euth._ I for my part think it is of all things most dear to them.
_Socr._ This then again is, as it seems, holiness, that which is dear to the gods.
_Euth._ Most certainly.
19. _Socr._ Can you wonder then, when you say this, that your statements do not remain fixed, but move about, and can you accuse me as being the Dædalus that makes them move about, when you yourself are far more skilful than Dædalus, and make them go round in a circle? Do you not perceive that our discussion, turning round, comes to the same point?
For you surely remember that in a former part of our discussion that which is holy and that which is acceptable to the gods appeared to us not to be the same, but different from each other: do you not remember?
_Euth._ I do.
_Socr._ Now, then, do you not perceive that you say that holiness is that which is dear to the gods? But is this any thing else than that which is acceptable to the gods? is it not so?
_Euth._ Certainly.
_Socr._ Either, therefore, we did not then admit that properly, or, if we did, our present statement is not correct?
_Euth._ It seems so.
_Socr._ From the beginning, therefore, we must consider again what holiness is; for I shall not willingly run away like a coward, until I have learnt it. Do not then despise me, but by all means apply your mind earnestly to it and tell me the truth. For you know it, if any man does; and I cannot let you go like Proteus, until you have told me. For if you had not known clearly both what is holy and what is impious, it is not possible that you could ever have attempted, for the sake of a hireling, to prosecute your aged father for murder; but you would have feared both to incur the anger of the gods, in case you should not act rightly in this matter, and would have been ashamed in the sight of men. But now I am sure that you think you clearly know both what is holy and what is not. Tell me, therefore, most excellent Euthyphron, and do not conceal from me what you believe it to be?
_Euth._ At some other opportunity then, Socrates: for now I am in haste to go somewhere, and it is time for me to depart.
_Socr._ What are you about, my friend? By going away you deprive me of the great hope I entertained that by learning from you what things are holy and what not, I might get rid of Melitus’s indictment, by shewing him that I had now become skilled in divine things by the aid of Euthyphron, and that I no longer through ignorance speak rashly, or introduce innovations respecting them, and that therefore I should lead a better life for the future.
INTRODUCTION TO THE LYSIS.
As Socrates was one day going from the Academy to the Lyceum he met with Hippothales, Ctesippus, and other youths, who were on that day celebrating the Hermæan festival in a newly-erected palæstra hard by.
They invite him to come in and join their conversation; he promises to do so on condition that they will first tell him who is the beauty among them. Hippothales, to whom he first puts the question, shews, by his embarrassment, that he is himself far gone in love; and on being taxed with it by Socrates blushes still more, whereupon Ctesippus says that he is constantly overwhelming them with his poems and speeches on his favourite Lysis. Socrates, on hearing this, begs Hippothales to inform him how a lover ought to speak of or address his favourite. Hippothales, though he does not deny his being in love, does deny that he makes verses or speeches; but Ctesippus shews that he is constantly giving utterance to the most extravagant praises of his favourite and his family; on which Socrates remarks that he should not celebrate his victory before it is won; for that it is not wise to praise the object of one’s affection before a return of affection on his part is secured, and moreover such as are beautiful when highly praised are apt to become arrogant, and so are more difficult to be won. Hippothales takes these suggestions in good part, and begs Socrates to advise him how to address his favourite so as to win his affection, which Socrates readily promises to do if they will give him an opportunity of conversing with Lysis. To this end they all enter the palæstra, and almost as soon as Socrates, Ctesippus, Menexenus and others had seated themselves down in a quiet corner, Lysis, who is very fond of listening to conversations, comes and takes his seat next his friend Menexenus, while Hippothales is concealed in the back-ground out of sight of his favourite[166].
----- Socrates begins by addressing a few words to the latter, but on Menexenus being called out by the master of the palæstra, he turns to Lysis, and asks him whether his parents do not love him very much. On Lysis replying that they certainly do, Socrates shews him that though, since they love him, they must needs wish to make him as happy as possible, yet they are so far from letting him do whatever he pleases, that they put him under the government of others, even of slaves, and this not on account of his youth, but because he has not yet acquired sufficient experience and knowledge to be entrusted with the government of himself; but that whenever he is wise enough, not only his father, but all others, will entrust him with the management of themselves and their affairs[167].
----- At this point of the conversation Menexenus returned and resumed his seat near Lysis, who begs of Socrates to say over again to Menexenus what he had been saying to him; but Socrates desires him to tell it himself on some future occasion, and for the present engages to converse on some other subject with Menexenus. Having observed, therefore, the friendship that subsisted between Lysis and Menexenus, he asks the latter, when any one loves another, which of the two becomes a friend of the other, the lover or the beloved? Menexenus replies that there is no difference. But Socrates shews that it frequently happens that a lover is not only not loved in turn, but is even hated. In that case, then, which is the friend? Menexenus is forced to admit that unless both love neither can be a friend to the other. But here Socrates interposes this difficulty; he remarks that men often love horses, dogs, and other things which cannot love in turn; and the poet, as Menexenus admits, speaks truly who says, “Happy the man who has boys for his friends and horses and dogs,” so that the beloved now appears to be a friend of the lover, and not the lover of the beloved; and by the same reasoning he who is hated is an enemy, and not he who hates, whence the absurd conclusion follows that people are beloved by their enemies and hated by their friends. This, however, is impossible; therefore the reverse must be the case, and the lover must be a friend of the beloved. “If, then, neither those who love are to be friends, nor those who are loved, nor yet those who both love and are loved,” who are to be called friends?
Lysis interposes with the remark that they do not appear to him to have conducted their enquiries aright; so Socrates avails himself of the opportunity thus offered him, and directs his discourse to Lysis[168].
----- “The poets say,” he observes, that “God ever conducts like to like,” and the wisest among men say the same, “that like must ever needs be friendly to like.” Lysis agrees to this. But, objects Socrates, only half of this appears to be true, for the more wicked men are the more hostile are they to each other; so that it appears that the good man only is a friend to the good man only, but that the bad man never arrives at true friendship. But here again a new doubt is started.
The like can derive no benefit from the like; how, therefore, can they be held in regard by each other? and how can that which is not held in regard be a friend? In like manner, the good man is sufficient for himself; but he who is sufficient needs nothing, and so will not regard any thing, and therefore not love. So that from this it appears, that not even the good will be friends to each other[169].
----- Socrates then remarks, that he once heard some one say that like is most hostile to like, and the good to the good; and generally that things most like each other are most full of envy, strife and hatred, but such as are most unlike are most disposed to friendship, just as the dry desires the moist, the cold heat, and so on. Menexenus admits the truth of this, and of its consequence, that the contrary is most friendly to its contrary. But again Socrates drives him to this absurd conclusion, that since enmity is most contrary to friendship, therefore an enemy must be a friend to a friend, or a friend a friend to an enemy[170].
----- Since it appears, then, that neither is the like friendly to the like, nor the contrary to the contrary, Socrates next proposes to enquire whether that which is neither good nor evil can be the friend of the good. According to an ancient proverb, the beautiful is friendly, and the good is beautiful, whence he would conclude that that which is neither good nor evil is friendly to the beautiful and the good. There are three several classes of things, he says, the good, the evil, and that which is neither good nor evil. It has already been proved that the good is not friendly to the good, nor the evil to the evil, nor yet the good to the evil, nor the evil to the good; it remains, therefore, that that which is neither good nor evil must be friendly to the good. But a little further discussion leads to the more narrow conclusion, that that which is neither evil nor good is friendly to the good, on account of the presence of evil[171].
----- Both Lysis and Menexenus agree to this conclusion; but Socrates soon raises new difficulties, and shews the fallaciousness of their former reasoning. A friend, he says, is a friend to some one, and for the sake of something, and on account of something; for a rich man is a friend to a physician on account of disease, which is an evil, and for the sake of health, which is a good, so that that which is friendly is a friend for the sake of a friend, on account of an enemy. By proceeding in this way, he argues, we shall at length arrive at some principle, which will not have to be referred to another friend, but will arrive at the first friend, for the sake of which all other things are friends, and which is friendly for its own sake. Now it has already appeared that we are friendly to that which is good, and that we love the good on account of evil; if, therefore, evil were to be done away with the good would be of no use to us, and we should not love it. In this, too, his young friends are willing to acquiesce, but Socrates dispels this delusion also, and shews that evil cannot be the cause of love, since if evil were done away with the desires would still remain, which in reality are the causes of friendship; for that which desires desires what it stands in need of, and that which stands in need is friendly to that of which it stands in need: and so love, desire, and friendship respect that which, in a manner, belongs to a man; but then evil belongs to evil and good to good, consequently they will each severally be friendly to their fellow, and the evil will be no less a friend to the evil than the good to the good; but both these positions have already been shewn to be erroneous, and so no positive solution of the question proposed is arrived at[172].
----- LYSIS, OR ON FRIENDSHIP.
SOCRATES, HIPPOTHALES, CTESIPPUS, MENEXENUS, AND LYSIS.
------- I was going from the Academy straight to the Lyceum on the road outside the wall close to the wall itself, but when I reached the little gate, where is the fountain of the Panops, I there met with Hippothales son of Hieronymus, Ctesippus the Pæanian, and other young men with them standing together in a group. And Hippothales seeing me approach said, “Socrates, whither are you going, and whence come you?”
“From the Academy,” I replied, “and am going straight to the Lyceum.”
“Hither, then,” said he, “straight to us. Won’t you come here? it is worth while.”
“Where do you mean,” said I, “and whom do you mean by ‘you’?”
“Hither,” he replied, shewing me an enclosure opposite the wall and an open gate, “there we are passing away our time, we and a good many other fine fellows.”
“And what is this, and what your occupation?”
“A palæstra,” he said, “lately built; our occupation consists chiefly in conversation, which we would gladly share with you.”
“Your friend and encomiast,” said he, “Miccus.”
“By Jupiter,” said I, “he is no mean person, but an apt sophist.”
“Will you follow us then,” said he, “that you may see those that are there?”
2. “I should be glad to hear this first, and on that condition I enter, who is the beauty?”
“To some of us,” said he, “Socrates, one appears so, to some, another.”
“But who appears so to you, Hippothales? Tell me this.” Then he blushed at the question. And I said, “Hippothales, son of Hieronymus, you need no longer tell me this, whether you are in love with any one or not: for I know that you are not only in love, but are already pretty far gone in love. I, for my part, am in other matters poor and useless, but this somehow has been given me by the deity, to be able quickly to discern both a lover, and one that is beloved.”
On hearing this, he blushed still more. Whereupon Ctesippus said, “It is a fine thing in you to blush, Hippothales, and hesitate to tell Socrates the name, though if he were to stay here with you even for a short time he would be tired to death with hearing you frequently telling it. 3. He has certainly deafened our ears, Socrates, and filled them with the name of Lysis: and if he is somewhat tipsy, it is easy for us, even when we awake out of sleep, to fancy that we hear the name of Lysis. And what he tells of him in his ordinary talk, though wearisome, is not so very much so; but when he attempts to overwhelm us with his poems and set-speeches! and what is still more wearisome than these, is that he sings about his favourite with a wonderful voice, which we must endure to listen to. But now when questioned by you, he blushes.”
“This Lysis, then,” said I, “is a youth, as it seems. I conjecture this, because on hearing the name I did not know it.”
“They don’t often call him by his own name,” said he, “but he still goes by his father’s name, because his father is so very well known. For I am very sure, that you are far from being unacquainted with the form of the youth; for he may be sufficiently known from this only.”
“The eldest son of Democrates, of Æxone,” he replied.
“Well done, Hippothales,” said I, “what a noble and in every way admirable love is this you have met with! Come then, display to me what you display to these also, that I may discover whether you know what a lover ought to say about his favourite, either to himself or to others.”
“Do you really put any weight, Socrates,” said he, “on any thing that he says?”
“Do you deny,” said I, “that you are in love with the person whom he speaks of?”
“I do not,” said he, “but I do deny that I make verses on my favourite or compose speeches.”
“He is not in his right senses,” said Ctesippus, “but is delirious and mad.”
Upon this I said, “Hippothales, I do not wish to hear your verses, nor any song that you may have made on the youth, but their meaning, that I may know in what way you behave towards your favourite.”
“He doubtless will tell you,” said he, “for he knows and remembers it well, since, as he says, he has been stunned by constantly hearing it from me.”
5. “By the gods,” said Ctesippus, “assuredly I do; and ridiculous it is