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  "chapter": {
    "num": 11,
    "slug": "11-euthydemus",
    "title": "Euthydemus",
    "of": 24,
    "words": 15590,
    "text": "## Euthydemus\n\n\n#### 380 BC\n\n#### translated by Benjamin Jowett\n\n##### New York, C. Scribner's Sons, [1871]\n\nPERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: SOCRATES, who is the narrator; CRITO;\nCLEINIAS; EUTHYDEMUS; DIONYSODORUS; CTESIPPUS. Scene: The Lyceum\n\nCrito. Who was the person, Socrates, with whom you were talking\nyesterday at the Lyceum? There was such a crowd around you that I\ncould not get within hearing, but I caught a sight of him over their\nheads, and I made out, as I thought, that he was a stranger with\nwhom you were talking: who was he?\n\nSocrates. There were two, Crito; which of them do you mean?\n\nCri. The one whom I mean was seated second from you on the\nright-hand side. In the middle was Cleinias the young son of Axiochus,\nwho has wonderfully grown; he is only about the age of my own\nCritobulus, but he is much forwarder and very good-looking: the\nother is thin and looks younger than he is.\n\nSoc. He whom you mean, Crito, is Euthydemus; and on my left hand\nthere was his brother Dionysodorus, who also took part in the\nconversation.\n\nCri. Neither of them are known to me, Socrates; they are a new\nimportation of Sophists, as I should imagine. Of what country are\nthey, and what is their line of wisdom?\n\nSoc. As to their origin, I believe that they are natives of this\npart of the world, and have migrated from Chios to Thurii; they were\ndriven out of Thurii, and have been living for many years past in\nthese regions. As to their wisdom, about which you ask, Crito, they\nare wonderful-consummate! I never knew what the true pancratiast was\nbefore; they are simply made up of fighting, not like the two\nAcarnanian brothers who fight with their bodies only, but this pair of\nheroes, besides being perfect in the use of their bodies, are\ninvincible in every sort of warfare; for they are capital at\nfighting in armour, and will teach the art to any one who pays them;\nand also they are most skilful in legal warfare; they will plead\nthemselves and teach others to speak and to compose speeches which\nwill have an effect upon the courts. And this was only the beginning\nof their wisdom, but they have at last carried out the pancratiastic\nart to the very end, and have mastered the only mode of fighting which\nhad been hitherto neglected by them; and now no one dares even to\nstand up against them: such is their skill in the war of words, that\nthey can refute any proposition whether true or false. Now I am\nthinking, Crito, of placing myself in their hands; for they say that\nin a short time they can impart their skill to any one.\n\nCri. But, Socrates, are you not too old? there may be reason to fear\nthat.\n\nSoc. Certainly not, Crito; as I will prove to you, for I have the\nconsolation of knowing that they began this art of disputation which I\ncovet, quite, as I may say, in old age; last year, or the year before,\nthey had none of their new wisdom. I am only apprehensive that I may\nbring the two strangers into disrepute, as I have done Connus the\nson of Metrobius, the harp-player, who is still my music-master; for\nwhen the boys who go to him see me going with them, they laugh at me\nand call him grandpapa's master. Now I should not like the strangers\nto experience similar treatment; the fear of ridicule may make them\nunwilling to receive me; and therefore, Crito, I shall try and\npersuade some old men to accompany me to them, as I persuaded them\nto go with me to Connus, and I hope that you will make one: and\nperhaps we had better take your sons as a bait; they will want to have\nthem as pupils, and for the sake of them willing to receive us.\n\nCri. I see no objection, Socrates, if you like; but first I wish\nthat you would give me a description of their wisdom, that I may\nknow beforehand what we are going to learn.\n\nSoc. In less than no time you shall hear; for I cannot say that I\ndid not attend-I paid great attention to them, and I remember and will\nendeavour to repeat the whole story. Providentially I was sitting\nalone in the dressing-room of the Lyceum where you saw me, and was\nabout to depart; when I was getting up I recognized the familiar\ndivine sign: so I sat down again, and in a little while the two\nbrothers Euthydemus and Dionysodorus came in, and several others\nwith them, whom I believe to be their disciples, and they walked about\nin the covered court; they had not taken more than two or three\nturns when Cleinias entered, who, as you truly say, is very much\nimproved: he was followed by a host of lovers, one of whom was\nCtesippus the Paeanian, a well-bred youth, but also having the\nwildness of youth. Cleinias saw me from the entrance as I was\nsitting alone, and at once came and sat down on the right hand of\nme, as you describe; and Dionysodorus and Euthydemus, when they saw\nhim, at first stopped and talked with one another, now and then\nglancing at us, for I particularly watched them; and then Euthydemus\ncame and sat down by the youth, and the other by me on the left\nhand; the rest anywhere. I saluted the brothers, whom I had not seen\nfor a long time; and then I said to Cleinias: Here are two wise men,\nEuthydemus and Dionysodorus, Cleinias, wise not in a small but in a\nlarge way of wisdom, for they know all about war,-all that a good\ngeneral ought to know about the array and command of an army, and\nthe whole art of fighting in armour: and they know about law too,\nand can teach a man how to use the weapons of the courts when he is\ninjured.\n\nThey heard me say this, but only despised me. I observed that they\nlooked at one another, and both of them laughed; and then Euthydemus\nThose, Socrates, are matters which we no longer pursue seriously; to\nus they are secondary occupations.\n\nIndeed, I said, if such occupations are regarded by you as\nsecondary, what must the principal one be; tell me, I beseech you,\nwhat that noble study is?\n\nThe teaching of virtue, Socrates, he replied, is our principal\noccupation; and we believe that we can impart it better and quicker\nthan any man.\n\nMy God! I said, and where did you learn that? I always thought, as I\nwas saying just now, that your chief accomplishment was the art of\nfighting in armour; and I used to say as much of you, for I remember\nthat you professed this when you were here before. But now if you\nreally have the other knowledge, O forgive me: I address you as I\nwould superior beings, and ask you to pardon the impiety of my\nformer expressions. But are you quite sure about this, Dionysodorus\nand Euthydemus? the promise is so vast, that a feeling of\nincredulity steals over me.\n\nYou may take our word, Socrates, for the fact.\n\nThen I think you happier in having such a treasure than the great\nking is in the possession of his kingdom. And please to tell me\nwhether you intend to exhibit your wisdom; or what will you do?\n\nThat is why we have come hither, Socrates; and our purpose is not\nonly to exhibit, but also to teach any one who likes to learn.\n\nBut I can promise you, I said, that every unvirtuous person will\nwant to learn. I shall be the first; and there is the youth\nCleinias, and Ctesippus: and here are several others, I said, pointing\nto the lovers of Cleinias, who were beginning to gather round us.\nNow Ctesippus was sitting at some distance from Cleinias; and when\nEuthydemus leaned forward in talking with me, he was prevented from\nseeing Cleinias, who was between us; and so, partly because he\nwanted to look at his love, and also because he was interested, he\njumped up and stood opposite to us: and all the other admirers of\nCleinias, as well as the disciples of Euthydemus and Dionysodorus,\nfollowed his example. And these were the persons whom I showed to\nEuthydemus, telling him that they were all eager to learn: to which\nCtesippus and all of them with one voice vehemently assented, and\nbid him exhibit the power of his wisdom. Then I said: O Euthydemus and\nDionysodorus, I earnestly request you to do myself and the company the\nfavour to exhibit. There may be some trouble in giving the whole\nexhibition; but tell me one thing,-can you make a good man of him only\nwho is already convinced that he ought to learn of you, or of him also\nwho is not convinced, either because he imagines that virtue is a\nthing which cannot be taught at all, or that you are not the\nteachers of it? Has your art power to persuade him, who is of the\nlatter temper of mind, that virtue can be taught; and that you are the\nmen from whom he will best learn it?\n\nCertainly, Socrates, said Dionysodorus; our art will do both.\n\nAnd you and your brother, Dionysodorus, I said, of all men who are\nnow living are the most likely to stimulate him to philosophy and to\nthe study of virtue?\n\nYes, Socrates, I rather think that we are.\n\nThen I wish that you would be so good as to defer the other part\nof the exhibition, and only try to persuade the youth whom you see\nhere that he ought to be a philosopher and study virtue. Exhibit that,\nand you will confer a great favour on me and on every one present; for\nthe fact is I and all of us are extremely anxious that he should\nbecome truly good. His name is Cleinias, and he is the son of\nAxiochus, and grandson of the old Alcibiades, cousin of the Alcibiades\nthat now is. He is quite young, and we are naturally afraid that\nsome one may get the start of us, and turn his mind in a wrong\ndirection, and he may be ruined. Your visit, therefore, is most\nhappily timed; and I hope that you will make a trial of the young man,\nand converse with him in our presence, if you have no objection.\n\nThese were pretty nearly the expressions which I used; and\nEuthydemus, in a manly and at the same time encouraging tone, replied:\nThere can be no objection, Socrates, if the young man is only\nwilling to answer questions.\n\nHe is quite accustomed to do so, I replied; for his friends often\ncome and ask him questions and argue with him; and therefore he is\nquite at home in answering.\n\nWhat followed, Crito, how can I rightly narrate? For not slight is\nthe task of rehearsing infinite wisdom, and therefore, like the poets,\nI ought to commence my relation with an invocation to Memory and the\nMuses. Now Euthydemus, if I remember rightly, began nearly as follows:\nO Cleinias, are those who learn the wise or the ignorant?\n\nThe youth, overpowered by the question blushed, and in his\nperplexity looked at me for help; and I, knowing that he was\ndisconcerted, said: Take courage, Cleinias, and answer like a man\nwhichever you think; for my belief is that you will derive the\ngreatest benefit from their questions.\n\nWhichever he answers, said Dionysodorus, leaning forward so as to\ncatch my ear, his face beaming with laughter, I prophesy that he\nwill be refuted, Socrates.\n\nWhile he was speaking to me, Cleinias gave his answer: and therefore\nI had no time to warn him of the predicament in which he was placed,\nand he answered that those who learned were the wise.\n\nEuthydemus proceeded: There are some whom you would call teachers,\nare there not?\n\nThe boy assented.\n\nAnd they are the teachers of those who learn-the grammar-master\nand the lyre master used to teach you and other boys; and you were the\nlearners?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd when you were learners you did not as yet know the things\nwhich you were learning?\n\nNo, he said.\n\nAnd were you wise then?\n\nNo, indeed, he said.\n\nBut if you were not wise you were unlearned?\n\nCertainly.\n\nYou then, learning what you did not know, were unlearned when you\nwere learning?\n\nThe youth nodded assent.\n\nThen the unlearned learn, and not the wise, Cleinias, as you\nimagine.\n\nAt these words the followers of Euthydemus, of whom I spoke, like\na chorus at the bidding of their director, laughed and cheered.\nThen, before the youth had time to recover his breath, Dionysodorus\ncleverly took him in hand, and said: Yes, Cleinias; and when the\ngrammar master dictated anything to you, were they the wise boys or\nthe unlearned who learned the dictation?\n\nThe wise, replied Cleinias.\n\nThen after all the wise are the learners and not the unlearned;\nand your last answer to Euthydemus was wrong.\n\nThen once more the admirers of the two heroes, in an ecstasy at\ntheir wisdom, gave vent to another peal of laughter, while the rest of\nus were silent and amazed. Euthydemus, observing this, determined to\npersevere with the youth; and in order to heighten the effect went\non asking another similar question, which might be compared to the\ndouble turn of an expert dancer. Do those, said he, who learn, learn\nwhat they know, or what they do not know?\n\nAgain Dionysodorus whispered to me: That, Socrates, is just\nanother of the same sort.\n\nGood heavens, I said; and your last question was so good!\n\nLike all our other questions, Socrates, he replied-inevitable.\n\nI see the reason, I said, why you are in such reputation among\nyour disciples.\n\nMeanwhile Cleinias had answered Euthydemus that those who learned\nlearn what they do not know; and he put him through a series of\nquestions the same as before.\n\nDo you not know letters?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAll letters?\n\nYes.\n\nBut when the teacher dictates to you, does he not dictate letters?\n\nTo this also he assented.\n\nThen if you know all letters, he dictates that which you know?\n\nThis again was admitted by him.\n\nThen, said the other, you do not learn that which he dictates; but\nhe only who does not know letters learns?\n\nNay, said Cleinias; but I do learn.\n\nThen, said he, you learn what you know, if you know all the letters?\n\nHe admitted that.\n\nThen, he said, you were wrong in your answer.\n\nThe word was hardly out of his mouth when Dionysodorus took up the\nargument, like a ball which he caught, and had another throw at the\nyouth. Cleinias, he said, Euthydemus is deceiving you. For tell me\nnow, is not learning acquiring knowledge of that which one learns?\n\nCleinias assented.\n\nAnd knowing is having knowledge at the time?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd not knowing is not having knowledge at the time?\n\nHe admitted that.\n\nAnd are those who acquire those who have or have not a thing?\n\nThose who have not.\n\nAnd have you not admitted that those who do not know are of the\nnumber of those who have not?\n\nHe nodded assent.\n\nThen those who learn are of the class of those who acquire, and\nnot of those who have?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nThen, Cleinias, he said, those who do not know learn, and not\nthose who know.\n\nEuthydemus was proceeding to give the youth a third fall; but I knew\nthat he was in deep water, and therefore, as I wanted to give him a\nrespite lest he should be disheartened, I said to him consolingly: You\nmust not be surprised, Cleinias, at the singularity of their mode of\nspeech: this I say because you may not understand what the two\nstrangers are doing with you; they are only initiating you after the\nmanner of the Corybantes in the mysteries; and this answers to the\nenthronement, which, if you have ever been initiated, is, as you\nwill know, accompanied by dancing and sport; and now they are just\nprancing and dancing about you, and will next proceed to initiate you;\nimagine then that you have gone through the first part of the\nsophistical ritual, which, as Prodicus says, begins with initiation\ninto the correct use of terms. The two foreign gentlemen, perceiving\nthat you did not know, wanted to explain to you that the word \"to\nlearn\" has two meanings, and is used, first, in the sense of acquiring\nknowledge of some matter of which you previously have no knowledge,\nand also, when you have the knowledge, in the sense of reviewing\nthis matter, whether something done or spoken by the light of this\nnewly-acquired knowledge; the latter is generally called \"knowing\"\nrather than \"learning,\" but the word \"learning\" is also used; and\nyou did not see, as they explained to you, that the term is employed\nof two opposite sorts of men, of those who know, and of those who do\nnot know. There was a similar trick in the second question, when\nthey asked you whether men learn what they know or what they do not\nknow. These parts of learning are not serious, and therefore I say\nthat the gentlemen are not serious, but are only playing with you. For\nif a man had all that sort of knowledge that ever was, he would not be\nat all the wiser; he would only be able to play with men, tripping\nthem up and over setting them with distinctions of words. He would\nbe like a person who pulls away a stool from some one when he is about\nto sit down, and then laughs and makes merry at the sight of his\nfriend overturned and laid on his back. And you must regard all that\nhas hitherto passed between you and them as merely play. But in what\nis to follow I am certain that they will exhibit to you their\nserious purpose, and keep their promise (I will show them how); for\nthey promised to give me a sample of the hortatory philosophy, but I\nsuppose that they wanted to have a game with you first. And now,\nEuthydemus and Dionysodorus, I think that we have had enough of\nthis. Will you let me see you explaining to the young man how he is to\napply himself to the study of virtue and wisdom? And I will first show\nyou what I conceive to be the nature of the task, and what sort of a\ndiscourse I desire to hear; and if I do this in a very inartistic\nand ridiculous manner, do not laugh at me, for I only venture to\nimprovise before you because I am eager to hear your wisdom: and I\nmust therefore ask you and your disciples to refrain from laughing.\nAnd now, O son of Axiochus, let me put a question to you: Do not all\nmen desire happiness? And yet, perhaps, this is one of those\nridiculous questions which I am afraid to ask, and which ought not\nto be asked by a sensible man: for what human being is there who\ndoes not desire happiness?\n\nThere is no one, said Cleinias, who does not.\n\nWell, then, I said, since we all of us desire happiness, how can\nwe be happy?-that is the next question. Shall we not be happy if we\nhave many good things? And this, perhaps, is even a more simple\nquestion than the first, for there can be no doubt of the answer.\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd what things do we esteem good? No solemn sage is required to\ntell us this, which may be easily answered; for every one will say\nthat wealth is a good.\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd are not health and beauty goods, and other personal gifts?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nCan there be any doubt that good birth, and power, and honours in\none's own land, are goods?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd what other goods are there? I said. What do you say of\ntemperance, justice, courage: do you not verily and indeed think,\nCleinias, that we shall be more right in ranking them as goods than in\nnot ranking them as goods? For a dispute might possibly arise about\nthis. What then do you say?\n\nThey are goods, said Cleinias.\n\nVery well, I said; and where in the company shall we find a place\nfor wisdom-among the goods or not?\n\nAmong the goods.\n\nAnd now, I said, think whether we have left out any considerable\ngoods.\n\nI do not think that we have, said Cleinias.\n\nUpon recollection, I said, indeed I am afraid that we have left\nout the greatest of them all.\n\nWhat is that? he asked.\n\nFortune, Cleinias, I replied; which all, even the most foolish,\nadmit to be the greatest of goods.\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nOn second thoughts, I added, how narrowly, O son of Axiochus, have\nyou and I escaped making a laughing-stock of ourselves to the\nstrangers.\n\nWhy do you say so?\n\nWhy, because we have already spoken of good-fortune, and are but\nrepeating ourselves.\n\nWhat do you mean?\n\nI mean that there is something ridiculous in again putting forward\ngood-fortune, which has a place in the list already, and saying the\nsame thing twice over.\n\nHe asked what was the meaning of this, and I replied: Surely\nwisdom is good-fortune; even a child may know that.\n\nThe simple-minded youth was amazed; and, observing his surprise, I\nsaid to him: Do you not know, Cleinias, that flute-players are most\nfortunate and successful in performing on the flute?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd are not the scribes most fortunate in writing and reading\nletters?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAmid the dangers of the sea, again, are any more fortunate on the\nwhole than wise pilots?\n\nNone, certainly.\n\nAnd if you were engaged in war, in whose company would you rather\ntake the risk-in company with a wise general, or with a foolish one?\n\nWith a wise one.\n\nAnd if you were ill, whom would you rather have as a companion in\na dangerous illness-a wise physician, or an ignorant one?\n\nA wise one.\n\nYou think, I said, that to act with a wise man is more fortunate\nthan to act with an ignorant one?\n\nHe assented.\n\nThen wisdom always makes men fortunate: for by wisdom no man would\never err, and therefore he must act rightly and succeed, or his wisdom\nwould be wisdom no longer.\n\nWe contrived at last, somehow or other, to agree in a general\nconclusion, that he who had wisdom had no need of fortune. I then\nrecalled to his mind the previous state of the question. You remember,\nI said, our making the admission that we should be happy and fortunate\nif many good things were present with us?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd should we be happy by reason of the presence of good things,\nif they profited us not, or if they profited us?\n\nIf they profited us, he said.\n\nAnd would they profit us, if we only had them and did not use\nthem? For example, if we had a great deal of food and did not eat,\nor a great deal of drink and did not drink, should we be profited?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nOr would an artisan, who had all the implements necessary for his\nwork, and did not use them, be any the better for the possession of\nthem? For example, would a carpenter be any the better for having\nall his tools and plenty of wood, if he never worked?\n\nCertainly not, he said.\n\nAnd if a person had wealth and all the goods of which we were just\nnow speaking, and did not use them, would he be happy because he\npossessed them?\n\nNo indeed, Socrates.\n\nThen, I said, a man who would be happy must not only have the good\nthings, but he must also use them; there is no advantage in merely\nhaving them?\n\nTrue.\n\nWell, Cleinias, but if you have the use as well as the possession of\ngood things, is that sufficient to confer happiness?\n\nYes, in my opinion.\n\nAnd may a person use them either rightly or wrongly?\n\nHe must use them rightly.\n\nThat is quite true, I said. And the wrong use of a thing is far\nworse than the non-use; for the one is an evil, and the other is\nneither a good nor an evil. You admit that?\n\nHe assented.\n\nNow in the working and use of wood, is not that which gives the\nright use simply the knowledge of the carpenter?\n\nNothing else, he said.\n\nAnd surely, in the manufacture of vessels, knowledge is that which\ngives the right way of making them?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd in the use of the goods of which we spoke at first-wealth and\nhealth and beauty, is not knowledge that which directs us to the right\nuse of them, and regulates our practice about them?\n\nHe assented.\n\nThen in every possession and every use of a thing, knowledge is that\nwhich gives a man not only good-fortune but success?\n\nHe again assented.\n\nAnd tell me, I said, O tell me, what do possessions profit a man, if\nhe have neither good sense nor wisdom? Would a man be better off,\nhaving and doing many things without wisdom, or a few things with\nwisdom? Look at the matter thus: If he did fewer things would he not\nmake fewer mistakes? if he made fewer mistakes would he not have fewer\nmisfortunes? and if he had fewer misfortunes would he not be less\nmiserable?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd who would do least-a Poor man or a rich man?\n\nA poor man.\n\nA weak man or a strong man?\n\nA weak man.\n\nA noble man or a mean man?\n\nA mean man.\n\nAnd a coward would do less than a courageous and temperate man?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd an indolent man less than an active man?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd a slow man less than a quick; and one who had dull perceptions\nof seeing and hearing less than one who had keen ones?\n\nAll this was mutually allowed by us.\n\nThen, I said, Cleinias, the sum of the matter appears to be that the\ngoods of which we spoke before are not to be regarded as goods in\nthemselves, but the degree of good and evil in them depends on whether\nthey are or are not under the guidance of knowledge: under the\nguidance of ignorance, they are greater evils than their opposites,\ninasmuch as they are more able to minister to the evil principle which\nrules them; and when under the guidance of wisdom and prudence, they\nare greater goods: but in themselves are nothing?\n\nThat, he replied, is obvious.\n\nWhat then is the result of what has been said? Is not this the\nresult-that other things are indifferent, and that wisdom is the\nonly good, and ignorance the only evil?\n\nHe assented.\n\nLet us consider a further point, I said: Seeing that all men\ndesire happiness, and happiness, as has been shown, is gained by a\nuse, and a right use, of the things of life, and the right use of\nthem, and good fortune in the use of them, is given by\nknowledge,-the inference is that everybody ought by all means to try\nand make himself as wise as he can?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd when a man thinks that he ought to obtain this treasure, far\nmore than money, from a father or a guardian or a friend or a\nsuitor, whether citizen or stranger-the eager desire and prayer to\nthem that they would impart wisdom to you, is not at all\ndishonourable, Cleinias; nor is any one to be blamed for doing any\nhonourable service or ministration to any man, whether a lover or not,\nif his aim is to get wisdom. Do you agree? I said.\n\nYes, he said, I quite agree, and think that you are right.\n\nYes, I said, Cleinias, if only wisdom can be taught, and does not\ncome to man spontaneously; for this is a point which has still to be\nconsidered, and is not yet agreed upon by you and me-\n\nBut I think, Socrates, that wisdom can be taught, he said.\n\nBest of men, I said, I am delighted to hear you say so; and I am\nalso grateful to you for having saved me from a long and tiresome\ninvestigation as to whether wisdom can be taught or not. But now, as\nyou think that wisdom can be taught, and that wisdom only can make a\nman happy and fortunate will you not acknowledge that all of us\nought to love wisdom, and you individually will try to love her?\n\nCertainly, Socrates, he said; I will do my best.\n\nI was pleased at hearing this; and I turned to Dionysodorus and\nEuthydemus and said: That is an example, clumsy and tedious I admit,\nof the sort of exhortations which I would have you give; and I hope\nthat one of you will set forth what I have been saying in a more\nartistic style: or at least take up the enquiry where I left off,\nand proceed to show the youth whether he should have all knowledge; or\nwhether there is one sort of knowledge only which will make him good\nand happy, and what that is. For, as I was saying at first, the\nimprovement of this young man in virtue and wisdom is a matter which\nwe have very much at heart.\n\nThus I spoke, Crito, and was all attention to what was coming. I\nwanted to see how they would approach the question, and where they\nwould start in their exhortation to the young man that he should\npractise wisdom and virtue. Dionysodorus, who was the elder, spoke\nfirst. Everybody's eyes were directed towards him, perceiving that\nsomething wonderful might shortly be expected. And certainly they were\nnot far wrong; for the man, Crito, began a remarkable discourse well\nworth hearing, and wonderfully persuasive regarded as an exhortation\nto virtue.\n\nTell me, he said, Socrates and the rest of you who say that you want\nthis young man to become wise, are you in jest or in real earnest?\n\nI was led by this to imagine that they fancied us to have been\njesting when we asked them to converse with the youth, and that this\nmade them jest and play, and being under this impression, I was the\nmore decided in saying that we were in profound earnest.\nDionysodorus said:\n\nReflect, Socrates; you may have to deny your words.\n\nI have reflected, I said; and I shall never deny my words.\n\nWell, said he, and so you say that you wish Cleinias to become wise?\n\nUndoubtedly.\n\nAnd he is not wise as yet?\n\nAt least his modesty will not allow him to say that he is.\n\nYou wish him, he said, to become wise and not, to be ignorant?\n\nThat we do.\n\nYou wish him to be what he is not, and no longer to be what he is?\n\nI was thrown into consternation at this.\n\nTaking advantage of my consternation he added: You wish him no\nlonger to be what he is, which can only mean that you wish him to\nperish. Pretty lovers and friends they must be who want their\nfavourite not to be, or to perish!\n\nWhen Ctesippus heard this he got very angry (as a lover well\nmight) and said: Stranger of Thurii-if politeness would allow me I\nshould say, A plague upon you! What can make you tell such a lie about\nme and the others, which I hardly like to repeat, as that I wish\nCleinias to perish?\n\nEuthydemus replied: And do you think, Ctesippus, that it is possible\nto tell a lie?\n\nYes, said Ctesippus; I should be mad to say anything else.\n\nAnd in telling a lie, do you tell the thing of which you speak or\nnot?\n\nYou tell the thing of which you speak.\n\nAnd he who tells, tells that thing which he tells, and no other?\n\nYes, said Ctesippus.\n\nAnd that is a distinct thing apart from other things?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd he who says that thing says that which is?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd he who says that which is, says the truth. And therefore\nDionysodorus, if he says that which is, says the truth of you and no\nlie.\n\nYes, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus; but in saying this, he says what is\nnot.\n\nEuthydemus answered: And that which is not is not?\n\nTrue.\n\nAnd that which is not is nowhere?\n\nNowhere.\n\nAnd can any one do anything about that which has no existence, or do\nto Cleinias that which is not and is nowhere?\n\nI think not, said Ctesippus.\n\nWell, but do rhetoricians, when they speak in the assembly, do\nnothing?\n\nNay, he said, they do something.\n\nAnd doing is making?\n\nYes.\n\nAnd speaking is doing and making?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nThen no one says that which is not, for in saying what is not he\nwould be doing something; and you have already acknowledged that no\none can do what is not. And therefore, upon your own showing, no one\nsays what is false; but if Dionysodorus says anything, he says what is\ntrue and what is.\n\nYes, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus; but he speaks of things in a\ncertain way and manner, and not as they really are.\n\nWhy, Ctesippus, said Dionysodorus, do you mean to say that any one\nspeaks of things as they are?\n\nYes, he said-all gentlemen and truth-speaking persons.\n\nAnd are not good things good, and evil things evil?\n\nHe assented.\n\nAnd you say that gentlemen speak of things as they are?\n\nYes.\n\nThen the good speak evil of evil things, if they speak of them as\nthey are?\n\nYes, indeed, he said; and they speak evil of evil men. And if I\nmay give you a piece of advice, you had better take care that they\ndo not speak evil of you, since I can tell you that the good speak\nevil of the evil.\n\nAnd do they speak great things of the great, rejoined Euthydemus,\nand warm things of the warm?\n\nTo be sure they do, said Ctesippus; and they speak coldly of the\ninsipid and cold dialectician.\n\nYou are abusive, Ctesippus, said Dionysodorus, you are abusive!\n\nIndeed, I am not, Dionysodorus, he replied; for I love you and am\ngiving you friendly advice, and, if I could, would persuade you not\nlike a boor to say in my presence that I desire my beloved, whom I\nvalue above all men, to perish.\n\nI saw that they were getting exasperated with one another, so I made\na joke with him and said: O Ctesippus, I think that we must allow\nthe strangers to use language in their own way, and not quarrel with\nthem about words, but be thankful for what they give us. If they\nknow how to destroy men in such a way as to make good and sensible men\nout of bad and foolish ones-whether this is a discovery of their\nown, or whether they have learned from some one else this new sort\nof death and destruction which enables them to get rid of a bad man\nand turn him into a good one-if they know this (and they do know\nthis-at any rate they said just now that this was the secret of\ntheir newly-discovered art)-let them, in their phraseology, destroy\nthe youth and make him wise, and all of us with him. But if you\nyoung men do not like to trust yourselves with them, then fiat\nexperimentum in corpore senis; I will be the Carian on whom they shall\noperate. And here I offer my old person to Dionysodorus; he may put me\ninto the pot, like Medea the Colchian, kill me, boil me, if he will\nonly make me good.\n\nCtesippus said: And I, Socrates, am ready to commit myself to the\nstrangers; they may skin me alive, if they please (and I am pretty\nwell skinned by them already), if only my skin is made at last, not\nlike that of Marsyas, into a leathern bottle, but into a piece of\nvirtue. And here is Dionysodorus fancying that I am angry with him,\nwhen really I am not angry at all; I do but contradict him when I\nthink that he is speaking improperly to me: and you must not\nconfound abuse and contradiction, O illustrious Dionysodorus; for they\nare quite different things.\n\nContradiction! said Dionysodorus; why, there never was such a thing.\n\nCertainly there is, he replied; there can be no question of that. Do\nyou, Dionysodorus, maintain that there is not?\n\nYou will never prove to me, he said, that you have heard any one\ncontradicting any one else.\n\nIndeed, said Ctesippus; then now you may hear me contradicting\nDionysodorus.\n\nAre you prepared to make that good?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nWell, have not all things words expressive of them?\n\nYes.\n\nOf their existence or of their non-existence?\n\nOf their existence.\n\nYes, Ctesippus, and we just now proved, as you may remember, that no\nman could affirm a negative; for no one could affirm that which is\nnot.\n\nAnd what does that signify? said Ctesippus; you and I may contradict\nall the same for that.\n\nBut can we contradict one another, said Dionysodorus, when both of\nus are describing the same thing? Then we must surely be speaking\nthe same thing?\n\nHe assented.\n\nOr when neither of us is speaking of the same thing? For then\nneither of us says a word about the thing at all?\n\nHe granted that proposition also.\n\nBut when I describe something and you describe another thing, or I\nsay something and you say nothing-is there any contradiction? How\ncan he who speaks contradict him who speaks not?\n\nHere Ctesippus was silent; and I in my astonishment said: What do\nyou mean, Dionysodorus? I have often heard, and have been amazed to\nhear, this thesis of yours, which is maintained and employed by the\ndisciples of Protagoras, and others before them, and which to me\nappears to be quite wonderful, and suicidal as well as destructive,\nand I think that I am most likely to hear the truth about it from you.\nThe dictum is that there is no such thing as falsehood; a man must\neither say what is true or say nothing. Is not that your position?\n\nHe assented.\n\nBut if he cannot speak falsely, may he not think falsely?\n\nNo, he cannot, he said.\n\nThen there is no such thing as false opinion?\n\nNo, he said.\n\nThen there is no such thing as ignorance, or men who are ignorant;\nfor is not ignorance, if there be such a thing, a mistake of fact?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd that is impossible?\n\nImpossible, he replied.\n\nAre you saying this as a paradox, Dionysodorus; or do you\nseriously maintain no man to be ignorant?\n\nRefute me, he said.\n\nBut how can I refute you, if, as you say, to tell a falsehood is\nimpossible?\n\nVery true, said Euthydemus.\n\nNeither did I tell you just now to refute me, said Dionysodorus; for\nhow can I tell you to do that which is not?\n\nO Euthydemus, I said, I have but a dull conception of these\nsubtleties and excellent devices of wisdom; I am afraid that I\nhardly understand them, and you must forgive me therefore if I ask a\nvery stupid question: if there be no falsehood or false opinion or\nignorance, there can be no such thing as erroneous action, for a man\ncannot fail of acting as he is acting-that is what you mean?\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nAnd now, I said, I will ask my stupid question: If there is no\nsuch thing as error in deed, word, or thought, then what, in the\nname of goodness, do you come hither to teach? And were you not just\nnow saying that you could teach virtue best of all men, to any one who\nwas willing to learn?\n\nAnd are you such an old fool, Socrates, rejoined Dionysodorus,\nthat you bring up now what I said at first-and if I had said\nanything last year, I suppose that you would bring that up too-but are\nnon-plussed at the words which I have just uttered?\n\nWhy, I said, they are not easy to answer; for they are the words\nof wise men: and indeed I know not what to make of this word\n\"nonplussed,\" which you used last: what do you mean by it,\nDionysodorus? You must mean that I cannot refute your argument. Tell\nme if the words have any other sense.\n\nNo, he replied, they mean what you say. And now answer.\n\nWhat, before you, Dionysodorus? I said.\n\nAnswer, said he.\n\nAnd is that fair?\n\nYes, quite fair, he said.\n\nUpon what principle? I said. I can only suppose that you are a\nvery wise man who comes to us in the character of a great logician,\nand who knows when to answer and when not to answer-and now you will\nnot open your mouth at all, because you know that you ought not.\n\nYou prate, he said, instead of answering. But if, my good sir, you\nadmit that I am wise, answer as I tell you.\n\nI suppose that I must obey, for you are master. Put the question.\n\nAre the things which have sense alive or lifeless?\n\nThey are alive.\n\nAnd do you know of any word which is alive?\n\nI cannot say that I do.\n\nThen why did you ask me what sense my words had?\n\nWhy, because I was stupid and made a mistake. And yet, perhaps, I\nwas right after all in saying that words have a sense;-what do you\nsay, wise man? If I was not in error, even you will not refute me, and\nall your wisdom will be non-plussed; but if I did fall into error,\nthen again you are wrong in saying that there is no error,-and this\nremark was made by you not quite a year ago. I am inclined to think,\nhowever, Dionysodorus and Euthydemus, that this argument lies where it\nwas and is not very likely to advance: even your skill in the\nsubtleties of logic, which is really amazing, has not found out the\nway of throwing another and not falling yourself, now any more than of\nold.\n\nCtesippus said: Men of Chios, Thurii, or however and whatever you\ncall yourselves, I wonder at you, for you seem to have no objection to\ntalking nonsense.\n\nFearing that there would be high words, I again endeavoured to\nsoothe Ctesippus, and said to him: To you, Ctesippus, I must repeat\nwhat I said before to Cleinias-that you do not understand the ways\nof these philosophers from abroad. They are not serious, but, like the\nEgyptian wizard, Proteus, they take different forms and deceive us\nby their enchantments: and let us, like Menelaus, refuse to let them\ngo until they show themselves to us in earnest. When they begin to\nbe in earnest their full beauty will appear: let us then beg and\nentreat and beseech them to shine forth. And I think that I had better\nonce more exhibit the form in which I pray to behold them; it might be\na guide to them. I will go on therefore where I left off, as well as I\ncan, in the hope that I may touch their hearts and move them to\npity, and that when they see me deeply serious and interested, they\nalso may be serious. You, Cleinias, I said, shall remind me at what\npoint we left off. Did we not agree that philosophy should be studied?\nand was not that our conclusion?\n\nYes, he replied.\n\nAnd philosophy is the acquisition of knowledge?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd what knowledge ought we to acquire? May we not answer with\nabsolute truth-A knowledge which will do us good?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd should we be any the better if we went about having a\nknowledge of the places where most gold was hidden in the earth?\n\nPerhaps we should, he said.\n\nBut have we not already proved, I said, that we should be none the\nbetter off, even if without trouble and digging all the gold which\nthere is in the earth were ours? And if we knew how to convert\nstones into gold, the knowledge would be of no value to us, unless\nwe also knew how to use the gold? Do you not remember? I said.\n\nI quite remember, he said.\n\nNor would any other knowledge, whether of money-making, or of\nmedicine, or of any other art which knows only how to make a thing,\nand not to use it when made, be of any good to us. Am I not right?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd if there were a knowledge which was able to make men immortal,\nwithout giving them the knowledge of the way to use the immortality,\nneither would there be any use in that, if we may argue from the\nanalogy of the previous instances?\n\nTo all this he agreed.\n\nThen, my dear boy, I said, the knowledge which we want is one that\nuses as well as makes?\n\nTrue, he said.\n\nAnd our desire is not to be skilful lyre-makers, or artists of\nthat sort-far otherwise; for with them the art which makes is one, and\nthe art which uses is another. Although they have to do with the same,\nthey are divided: for the art which makes and the art which plays on\nthe lyre differ widely from one another. Am I not right?\n\nHe agreed.\n\nAnd clearly we do not want the art of the flute-maker; this is\nonly another of the same sort?\n\nHe assented.\n\nBut suppose, I said, that we were to learn the art of making\nspeeches-would that be the art which would make us happy?\n\nI should say no, rejoined Cleinias.\n\nAnd why should you say so? I asked.\n\nI see, he replied, that there are some composers of speeches who\ndo not know how to use the speeches which they make, just as the\nmakers of lyres do not know how to use the lyres; and also some who\nare of themselves unable to compose speeches, but are able to use\nthe speeches which the others make for them; and this proves that\nthe art of making speeches is not the same as the art of using them.\n\nYes, I said; and I take your words to be a sufficient proof that the\nart of making speeches is not one which will make a man happy. And yet\nI did think that the art which we have so long been seeking might be\ndiscovered in that direction; for the composers of speeches,\nwhenever I meet them, always appear to me to be very extraordinary\nmen, Cleinias, and their art is lofty and divine, and no wonder. For\ntheir art is a part of the great art of enchantment, and hardly, if at\nall, inferior to it: and whereas the art of the enchanter is a mode of\ncharming snakes and spiders and scorpions, and other monsters and\npests, this art of theirs acts upon dicasts and ecclesiasts and bodies\nof men, for the charming and pacifying of them. Do you agree with me?\n\nYes, he said, I think that you are quite right.\n\nWhither then shall we go, I said, and to what art shall we have\nrecourse?\n\nI do not see my way, he said.\n\nBut I think that I do, I replied.\n\nAnd what is your notion? asked Cleinias.\n\nI think that the art of the general is above all others the one of\nwhich the possession is most likely to make a man happy.\n\nI do not think so, he said.\n\nWhy not? I said.\n\nThe art of the general is surely an art of hunting mankind.\n\nWhat of that? I said.\n\nWhy, he said, no art of hunting extends beyond hunting and\ncapturing; and when the prey is taken the huntsman or fisherman cannot\nuse it; but they hand it over to the cook, and the geometricians and\nastronomers and calculators (who all belong to the hunting class,\nfor they do not make their diagrams, but only find out that which\nwas previously contained in them)-they, I say, not being able to use\nbut only to catch their prey, hand over their inventions to the\ndialectician to be applied by him, if they have any sense in them.\n\nGood, I said, fairest and wisest Cleinias. And is this true?\n\nCertainly, he said; just as a general when he takes a city or a camp\nhands over his new acquisition to the statesman, for he does not\nknow how to use them himself; or as the quail-taker transfers the\nquails to the keeper of them. If we are looking for the art which is\nto make us blessed, and which is able to use that which it makes or\ntakes, the art of the general is not the one, and some other must be\nfound.\n\nCri. And do you mean, Socrates, that the youngster said all this?\n\nSoc. Are you incredulous, Crito?\n\nCri. Indeed, I am; for if he did say so, then in my opinion he needs\nneither Euthydemus nor any one else to be his instructor.\n\nSoc. Perhaps I may have forgotten, and Ctesippus was the real\nanswerer.\n\nCri. Ctesippus! nonsense.\n\nSoc. All I know is that I heard these words, and that they were\nnot spoken either by Euthydemus or Dionysodorus. I dare say, my good\nCrito, that they may have been spoken by some superior person: that\nI heard them I am certain.\n\nCri. Yes, indeed, Socrates, by some one a good deal superior, as I\nshould be disposed to think. But did you carry the search any further,\nand did you find the art which you were seeking?\n\nSoc. Find! my dear sir, no indeed. And we cut a poor figure; we were\nlike children after larks, always on the point of catching the art,\nwhich was always getting away from us. But why should I repeat the\nwhole story? At last we came to the kingly art, and enquired whether\nthat gave and caused happiness, and then we got into a labyrinth,\nand when we thought we were at the end, came out again at the\nbeginning, having still to seek as much as ever.\n\nCri. How did that happen, Socrates?\n\nSoc. I will tell you; the kingly art was identified by us with the\npolitical.\n\nCri. Well, and what came of that?\n\nSoc. To this royal or political art all the arts, including the\nart of the general, seemed to render up the supremacy, that being\nthe only one which knew how to use what they produce. Here obviously\nwas the very art which we were seeking-the art which is the source\nof good government, and which may be described, in the language of\nAeschylus, as alone sitting at the helm of the vessel of state,\npiloting and governing all things, and utilizing them.\n\nCri. And were you not right, Socrates?\n\nSoc. You shall judge, Crito, if you are willing to hear what\nfollowed; for we resumed the enquiry, and a question of this sort\nwas asked: Does the kingly art, having this supreme authority, do\nanything for us? To be sure, was the answer. And would not you, Crito,\nsay the same?\n\nCri. Yes, I should.\n\nSoc. And what would you say that the kingly art does? If medicine\nwere supposed to have supreme authority over the subordinate arts, and\nI were to ask you a similar question about that, you would say-it\nproduces health?\n\nCri. I should.\n\nSoc. And what of your own art of husbandry, supposing that to have\nsupreme authority over the subject arts-what does that do? Does it not\nsupply us with the fruits of the earth?\n\nCri. Yes.\n\nSoc. And what does the kingly art do when invested with supreme\npower? Perhaps you may not be ready with an answer?\n\nCri. Indeed I am not, Socrates.\n\nSoc. No more were we, Crito. But at any rate you know that if this\nis the art which we were seeking, it ought to be useful.\n\nCri. Certainly.\n\nSoc. And surely it ought to do us some good?\n\nCri. Certainly, Socrates.\n\nSoc. And Cleinias and I had arrived at the conclusion that knowledge\nof some kind is the only good.\n\nCri. Yes, that was what you were saying.\n\nSoc. All the other results of politics, and they are many, as for\nexample, wealth, freedom, tranquillity, were neither good nor evil\nin themselves; but the political science ought to make us wise, and\nimpart knowledge to us, if that is the science which is likely to do\nus good, and make us happy.\n\nCri. Yes; that was the conclusion at which you had arrived,\naccording to your report of the conversation.\n\nSoc. And does the kingly art make men wise and good?\n\nCri. Why not, Socrates?\n\nSoc. What, all men, and in every respect? and teach them all the\narts,-carpentering, and cobbling, and the rest of them?\n\nCri. I think not, Socrates.\n\nSoc. But then what is this knowledge, and what are we to do with it?\nFor it is not the source of any works which are neither good nor evil,\nand gives no knowledge, but the knowledge of itself; what then can\nit be, and what are we to do with it? Shall we say, Crito, that it\nis the knowledge by which we are to make other men good?\n\nCri. By all means.\n\nSoc. And in what will they be good and useful? Shall we repeat\nthat they will make others good, and that these others will make\nothers again, without ever determining in what they are to be good;\nfor we have put aside the results of politics, as they are called.\nThis is the old, old song over again; and we are just as far as\never, if not farther, from the knowledge of the art or science of\nhappiness.\n\n.Cri. Indeed, Socrates, you do appear to have got into a great\nperplexity.\n\nSoc. Thereupon, Crito, seeing that I was on the point of\nshipwreck, I lifted up my voice, and earnestly entreated and called\nupon the strangers to save me and the youth from the whirlpool of\nthe argument; they were our Castor and Pollux, I said, and they should\nbe serious, and show us in sober earnest what that knowledge was which\nwould enable us to pass the rest of our lives in happiness.\n\nCri. And did Euthydemus show you this knowledge?\n\nSoc. Yes, indeed; he proceeded in a lofty strain to the following\neffect: Would you rather, Socrates, said he, that I should show you\nthis knowledge about which you have been doubting, or shall I prove\nthat you already have it?\n\nWhat, I said, are you blessed with such a power as this?\n\nIndeed I am.\n\nThen I would much rather that you should prove me to have such a\nknowledge; at my time of life that will be more agreeable than\nhaving to learn.\n\nThen tell me, he said, do you know anything?\n\nYes, I said, I know many things, but not anything of much\nimportance.\n\nThat will do, he said: And would you admit that anything is what\nit is, and at the same time is not what it is?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd did you not say that you knew something?\n\nI did.\n\nIf you know, you are knowing.\n\nCertainly, of the knowledge which I have.\n\nThat makes no difference;-and must you not, if you are knowing, know\nall things?\n\nCertainly not, I said, for there are many other things which I do\nnot know.\n\nAnd if you do not know, you are not knowing.\n\nYes, friend, of that which I do not know.\n\nStill you are not knowing, and you said just now that you were\nknowing; and therefore you are and are not at the same time, and in\nreference to the same things.\n\nA pretty clatter, as men say, Euthydemus, this of yours! and will\nyou explain how I possess that knowledge for which we were seeking? Do\nyou mean to say that the same thing cannot be and also not be; and\ntherefore, since I know one thing, that I know all, for I cannot be\nknowing and not knowing at the same time, and if I know all things,\nthen I must have the knowledge for which we are seeking-May I assume\nthis to be your ingenious notion?\n\nOut of your own mouth, Socrates, you are convicted, he said.\n\nWell, but, Euthydemus, I said, has that never happened to you? for\nif I am only in the same case with you and our beloved Dionysodorus, I\ncannot complain. Tell me, then, you two, do you not know some\nthings, and not know others?\n\nCertainly not, Socrates, said Dionysodorus.\n\nWhat do you mean, I said; do you know nothing?\n\nNay, he replied, we do know something.\n\nThen, I said, you know all things, if you know anything?\n\nYes, all things, he said; and that is as true of you as of us.\n\nO, indeed, I said, what a wonderful thing, and what a great\nblessing! And do all other men know all things or nothing?\n\nCertainly, he replied; they cannot know some things, and not know\nothers, and be at the same time knowing and not knowing.\n\nThen what is the inference? I said.\n\nThey all know all things, he replied, if they know one thing.\n\nO heavens, Dionysodorus, I said, I see now that you are in\nearnest; hardly have I got you to that point. And do you really and\ntruly know all things, including carpentering and leather cutting?\n\nCertainly, he said.\n\nAnd do you know stitching?\n\nYes, by the gods, we do, and cobbling, too.\n\nAnd do you know things such as the numbers of the stars and of the\nsand?\n\nCertainly; did you think we should say no to that?\n\nBy Zeus, said Ctesippus, interrupting, I only wish that you would\ngive me some proof which would enable me to know whether you speak\ntruly.\n\nWhat proof shall I give you? he said.\n\nWill you tell me how many teeth Euthydemus has? and Euthydemus shall\ntell how many teeth you have.\n\nWill you not take our word that we know all things?\n\nCertainly not, said Ctesippus: you must further tell us this one\nthing, and then we shall know that you are speak the truth; if you\ntell us the number, and we count them, and you are found to be\nright, we will believe the rest. They fancied that Ctesippus was\nmaking game of them, and they refused, and they would only say in\nanswer to each of his questions, that they knew all things. For at\nlast Ctesippus began to throw off all restraint; no question in fact\nwas too bad for him; he would ask them if they knew the foulest\nthings, and they, like wild boars, came rushing on his blows, and\nfearlessly replied that they did. At last, Crito, I too was carried\naway by my incredulity, and asked Euthydemus whether Dionysodorus\ncould dance.\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd can he vault among swords, and turn upon a wheel, at his age?\nhas he got to such a height of skill as that?\n\nHe can do anything, he said.\n\nAnd did you always know this?\n\nAlways, he said.\n\nWhen you were children, and at your birth?\n\nThey both said that they did.\n\nThis we could not believe. And Euthydemus said: You are incredulous,\nSocrates.\n\nYes, I said, and I might well be incredulous, if I did not know\nyou to be wise men.\n\nBut if you will answer, he said, I will make you confess to\nsimilar marvels.\n\nWell, I said, there is nothing that I should like better than to\nbe self-convicted of this, for if I am really a wise man, which I\nnever knew before, and you will prove to me that I know and have\nalways known all things, nothing in life would be a greater gain to\nme.\n\nAnswer then, he said.\n\nAsk, I said, and I will answer.\n\nDo you know something, Socrates, or nothing?\n\nSomething, I said.\n\nAnd do you know with what you know, or with something else?\n\nWith what I know; and I suppose that you mean with my soul?\n\nAre you not ashamed, Socrates, of asking a question when you are\nasked one?\n\nWell, I said; but then what am I to do? for I will do whatever you\nbid; when I do not know what you are asking, you tell me to answer\nnevertheless, and not to ask again.\n\nWhy, you surely have some notion of my meaning, he said.\n\nYes, I replied.\n\nWell, then, answer according to your notion of my meaning.\n\nYes, I said; but if the question which you ask in one sense is\nunderstood and answered by me in another, will that please you-if I\nanswer what is not to the point?\n\nThat will please me very well; but will not please you equally well,\nas I imagine.\n\nI certainly will not answer unless I understand you, I said.\n\nYou will not answer, he said, according to your view of the meaning,\nbecause you will be prating, and are an ancient.\n\nNow I saw that he was getting angry with me for drawing\ndistinctions, when he wanted to catch me in his springes of words. And\nI remembered that Connus was always angry with me when I opposed\nhim, and then he neglected me, because he thought that I was stupid;\nand as I was intending to go to Euthydemus as a pupil, I reflected\nthat I had better let him have his way, as he might think me a\nblockhead, and refuse to take me. So I said: You are a far better\ndialectician than myself, Euthydemus, for I have never made a\nprofession of the art, and therefore do as you say; ask your questions\nonce more, and I will answer.\n\nAnswer then, he said, again, whether you know what you know with\nsomething, or with nothing.\n\nYes, I said; I know with my soul.\n\nThe man will answer more than the question; for I did not ask you,\nhe said, with what you know, but whether you know with something.\n\nAgain I replied, Through ignorance I have answered too much, but I\nhope that you will forgive me. And now I will answer simply that I\nalways know what I know with something.\n\nAnd is that something, he rejoined, always the same, or sometimes\none thing, and sometimes another thing?\n\nAlways, I replied, when I know, I know with this.\n\nWill you not cease adding to your answers?\n\nMy fear is that this word \"always\" may get us into trouble.\n\nYou, perhaps, but certainly not us. And now answer: Do you always\nknow with this?\n\nAlways; since I am required to withdraw the words \"when I know.\"\n\nYou always know with this, or, always knowing, do you know some\nthings with this, and some things with something else, or do you\nknow all things with this?\n\nAll that I know, I replied, I know with this.\n\nThere again, Socrates, he said, the addition is superfluous.\n\nWell, then, I said, I will take away the words that I know.\"\n\nNay, take nothing away; I desire no favours of you; but let me\nask: Would you be able to know all things, if you did not know all\nthings?\n\nQuite impossible.\n\nAnd now, he said, you may add on whatever you like, for you\nconfess that you know all things.\n\nI suppose that is true, I said, if my qualification implied in the\nwords \"that I know\" is not allowed to stand; and so I do know all\nthings.\n\nAnd have you not admitted that you always know all things with\nthat which you know, whether you make the addition of \"when you know\nthem\" or not? for you have acknowledged that you have always and at\nonce known all things, that is to say, when you were a child, and at\nyour birth, and when you were growing up, and before you were born,\nand before the heaven and earth existed, you knew all things if you\nalways know them; and I swear that you shall always continue to know\nall things, if I am of the mind to make you.\n\nBut I hope that you will be of that mind, reverend Euthydemus, I\nsaid, if you are really speaking the truth, and yet I a little doubt\nyour power to make good your words unless you have the help of your\nbrother Dionysodorus; then you may do it. Tell me now, both of you,\nfor although in the main I cannot doubt that I really do know all\nthings, when I am told so by men of your prodigious wisdom-how can I\nsay that I know such things, Euthydemus, as that the good are\nunjust; come, do I know that or not?\n\nCertainly, you know that.\n\nWhat do I know?\n\nThat the good are not unjust.\n\nQuite true, I said; and that I have always known; but the question\nis, where did I learn that the good are unjust?\n\nNowhere, said Dionysodorus.\n\nThen, I said, I do not know this.\n\nYou are ruining the argument, said Euthydemus to Dionysodorus; he\nwill be proved not to know, and then after all he will be knowing\nand not knowing at the same time.\n\nDionysodorus blushed.\n\nI turned to the other, and said, What do you think, Euthydemus? Does\nnot your omniscient brother appear to you to have made a mistake?\n\nWhat, replied Dionysodorus in a moment; am I the brother of\nEuthydemus?\n\nThereupon I said, Please not to interrupt, my good friend, or\nprevent Euthydemus from proving to me that I know the good to be\nunjust; such a lesson you might at least allow me to learn.\n\nYou are running away, Socrates, said Dionysodorus, and refusing to\nanswer.\n\nNo wonder, I said, for I am not a match for one of you, and a\nfortiori I must run away from two. I am no Heracles; and even Heracles\ncould not fight against the Hydra, who was a she-Sophist, and had\nthe wit to shoot up many new heads when one of them was cut off;\nespecially when he saw a second monster of a sea-crab, who was also\na Sophist, and appeared to have newly arrived from a sea-voyage,\nbearing down upon him from the left, opening his mouth and biting.\nWhen the monster was growing troublesome he called Iolaus, his nephew,\nto his help, who ably succoured him; but if my Iolaus, who is my\nbrother Patrocles [the statuary], were to come, he would only make a\nbad business worse.\n\nAnd now that you have delivered yourself of this strain, said\nDionysodorus, will you inform me whether Iolaus was the nephew of\nHeracles any more than he is yours?\n\nI suppose that I had best answer you, Dionysodorus, I said, for\nyou will insist on asking that I pretty well know-out of envy, in\norder to prevent me from learning the wisdom of Euthydemus.\n\nThen answer me, he said.\n\nWell then, I said, I can only reply that Iolaus was not my nephew at\nall, but the nephew of Heracles; and his father was not my brother\nPatrocles, but Iphicles, who has a name rather like his, and was the\nbrother of Heracles.\n\nAnd is Patrocles, he said, your brother?\n\nYes, I said, he is my half-brother, the son of my mother, but not of\nmy father.\n\nThen he is and is not your brother.\n\nNot by the same father, my good man, I said, for Chaeredemus was his\nfather, and mine was Sophroniscus.\n\nAnd was Sophroniscus a father, and Chaeredemus also?\n\nYes, I said; the former was my father, and the latter his.\n\nThen, he said, Chaeredemus is not a father.\n\nHe is not my father, I said.\n\nBut can a father be other than a father? or are you the same as a\nstone?\n\nI certainly do not think that I am a stone, I said, though I am\nafraid that you may prove me to be one.\n\nAre you not other than a stone?\n\nI am.\n\nAnd being other than a stone, you are not a stone; and being other\nthan gold, you are not gold?\n\nVery true.\n\nAnd so Chaeredemus, he said, being other than a father, is not a\nfather?\n\nI suppose that he is not a father, I replied.\n\nFor if, said Euthydemus, taking up the argument, Chaeredemus is a\nfather, then Sophroniscus, being other than a father, is not a father;\nand you, Socrates, are without a father.\n\nCtesippus, here taking up the argument, said: And is not your father\nin the same case, for he is other than my father?\n\nAssuredly not, said Euthydemus.\n\nThen he is the same?\n\nHe is the same.\n\nI cannot say that I like the connection; but is he only my father,\nEuthydemus, or is he the father of all other men?\n\nOf all other men, he replied. Do you suppose the same person to be a\nfather and not a father?\n\nCertainly, I did so imagine, said Ctesippus.\n\nAnd do you suppose that gold is not gold, or that a man is not a\nman?\n\nThey are not \"in pari materia,\" Euthydemus, said Ctesippus, and\nyou had better take care, for it is monstrous to suppose that your\nfather is the father of all.\n\nBut he is, he replied.\n\nWhat, of men only, said Ctesippus, or of horses and of all other\nanimals?\n\nOf all, he said.\n\nAnd your mother, too, is the mother of all?\n\nYes, our mother too.\n\nYes; and your mother has a progeny of sea-urchins then?\n\nYes; and yours, he said.\n\nAnd gudgeons and puppies and pigs are your brothers?\n\nAnd yours too.\n\nAnd your papa is a dog?\n\nAnd so is yours, he said.\n\nIf you will answer my questions, said Dionysodorus, I will soon\nextract the same admissions from you, Ctesippus. You say that you have\na dog.\n\nYes, a villain of a one, said Ctesippus.\n\nAnd he has puppies?\n\nYes, and they are very like himself.\n\nAnd the dog is the father of them?\n\nYes, he said, I certainly saw him and the mother of the puppies come\ntogether.\n\nAnd is he not yours?\n\nTo be sure he is.\n\nThen he is a father, and he is yours; ergo, he is your father, and\nthe puppies are your brothers.\n\nLet me ask you one little question more, said Dionysodorus,\nquickly interposing, in order that Ctesippus might not get in his\nword: You beat this dog?\n\nCtesippus said, laughing, Indeed I do; and I only wish that I\ncould beat you instead of him.\n\nThen you beat your father, he said.\n\nI should have far more reason to beat yours, said Ctesippus; what\ncould he have been thinking of when he begat such wise sons? much good\nhas this father of you and your brethren the puppies got out of this\nwisdom of yours.\n\nBut neither he nor you, Ctesippus, have any need of much good.\n\nAnd have you no need, Euthydemus? he said.\n\nNeither I nor any other man; for tell me now, Ctesippus, if you\nthink it good or evil for a man who is sick to drink medicine when\nhe wants it; or to go to war armed rather than unarmed.\n\nGood, I say. And yet I know that I am going to be caught in one of\nyour charming puzzles.\n\nThat, he replied, you will discover, if you answer; since you\nadmit medicine to be good for a man to drink, when wanted, must it not\nbe good for him to drink as much as possible; when he takes his\nmedicine, a cartload of hellebore will not be too much for him?\n\nCtesippus said: Quite so, Euthydemus, that is to say, if he who\ndrinks is as big as the statue of Delphi.\n\nAnd seeing that in war to have arms is a good thing, he ought to\nhave as many spears and shields as possible?\n\nVery true, said Ctesippus; and do you think, Euthydemus, that he\nought to have one shield only, and one spear?\n\nI do.\n\nAnd would you arm Geryon and Briarcus in that way? Considering\nthat you and your companion fight in armour, I thought that you\nwould have known better.... Here Euthydemus held his peace, but\nDionysodorus returned to the previous answer of Ctesippus and said:-\n\nDo you not think that the possession of gold is a good thing?\n\nYes, said Ctesippus, and the more the better.\n\nAnd to have money everywhere and always is a good?\n\nCertain a great good, he said.\n\nAnd you admit gold to be a good?\n\nCertainly, he replied.\n\nAnd ought not a man then to have gold everywhere and always, and\nas much as possible in himself, and may he not be deemed the\nhappiest of men who has three talents of gold in his belly, and a\ntalent in his pate, and a stater of gold in either eye?\n\nYes, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus; and the Scythians reckon those\nwho have gold in their own skulls to be the happiest and bravest of\nmen (that is only another instance of your manner of speaking about\nthe dog and father), and what is still more extraordinary, they\ndrink out of their own skulls gilt and see the inside of them, and\nhold their own head in their hands.\n\nAnd do the Scythians and others see that which has the quality of\nvision, or that which has not? said Euthydemus.\n\nThat which has the quality of vision clearly.\n\nAnd you also see that which has the quality Of vision? he said.\n\nYes, I do.\n\nThen do you see our garments?\n\nYes.\n\nThen our garments have the quality of vision.\n\nThey can see to any extent, said Ctesippus.\n\nWhat can they see?\n\nNothing; but you, my sweet man, may perhaps imagine that they do not\nsee; and certainly, Euthydemus, you do seem to me to have been\ncaught napping when you were not asleep, and that if it be possible to\nspeak and say nothing-you are doing so.\n\nAnd may there not be a silence of the speaker? said Dionysodorus.\n\nImpossible, said Ctesippus.\n\nOr a speaking of the silent?\n\nThat is still more impossible, he said.\n\nBut when you speak of stones, wood, iron bars, do you not speak of\nthe silent?\n\nNot when I pass a smithy; for then the iron bars make a tremendous\nnoise and outcry if they are touched: so that here your wisdom is\nstrangely mistaken, please, however, to tell me how you can be\nsilent when speaking (I thought that Ctesippus was put upon his mettle\nbecause Cleinias was present).\n\nWhen you are silent, said Euthydemus, is there not a silence of\nall things?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nBut if speaking things are included in all things, then the speaking\nare silent.\n\nWhat, said Ctesippus; then all things are not silent?\n\nCertainly not, said Euthydemus.\n\nThen, my good friend, do they all speak?\n\nYes; those which speak.\n\nNay, said Ctesippus, but the question which I ask is whether all\nthings are silent or speak?\n\nNeither and both, said Dionysodorus, quickly interposing; I am\nsure that you will be \"nonplussed\" at that answer.\n\nHere Ctesippus, as his manner was, burst into a roar of laughter; he\nsaid, That brother of yours, Euthydemus, has got into a dilemma; all\nis over with him. This delighted Cleinias, whose laughter made\nCtesippus ten times as uproarious; but I cannot help thinking that the\nrogue must have picked up this answer from them; for there has been no\nwisdom like theirs in our time. Why do you laugh, Cleinias, I said, at\nsuch solemn and beautiful things?\n\nWhy, Socrates, said Dionysodorus, did you ever see a beautiful\nthing?\n\nYes, Dionysodorus, I replied, I have seen many.\n\nWere they other than the beautiful, or the same as the beautiful?\n\nNow I was in a great quandary at having to answer this question, and\nI thought that I was rightly served for having opened my mouth at all:\nI said however, They are not the same as absolute beauty, but they\nhave beauty present with each of them.\n\nAnd are you an ox because an ox is present with you, or are you\nDionysodorus, because Dionysodorus is present with you?\n\nGod forbid, I replied.\n\nBut how, he said, by reason of one thing being present with another,\nwill one thing be another?\n\nIs that your difficulty? I said. For I was beginning to imitate\ntheir skill, on which my heart was set.\n\nOf course, he replied, I and all the world are in a difficulty about\nthe non-existent.\n\nWhat do you mean, Dionysodorus? I said. Is not the honourable\nhonourable and the base base?\n\nThat, he said, is as I please.\n\nAnd do you please?\n\nYes, he said.\n\nAnd you will admit that the same is the same, and the other other;\nfor surely the other is not the same; I should imagine that even a\nchild will hardly deny the other to be other. But I think,\nDionysodorus, that you must have intentionally missed the last\nquestion; for in general you and your brother seem to me to be good\nworkmen in your own department, and to do the dialectician's\nbusiness excellently well.\n\nWhat, said he, is the business of a good workman? tell me, in the\nfirst place, whose business is hammering?\n\nThe smith's.\n\nAnd whose the making of pots?\n\nThe potter's.\n\nAnd who has to kill and skin and mince and boil and roast?\n\nThe cook, I said.\n\nAnd if a man does his business he does rightly?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd the business of the cook is to cut up and skin; you have\nadmitted that?\n\nYes, I have admitted that, but you must not be too hard upon me.\n\nThen if some one were to kill, mince, boil, roast the cook, he would\ndo his business, and if he were to hammer the smith, and make a pot of\nthe potter, he would do their business.\n\nPoseidon, I said, this is the crown of wisdom; can I ever hope to\nhave such wisdom of my own?\n\nAnd would you be able, Socrates, to recognize this wisdom when it\nhas become your own?\n\nCertainly, I said, if you will allow me.\n\nWhat, he said, do you think that you know what is your own?\n\nYes, I do, subject to your correction; for you are the bottom, and\nEuthydemus is the top, of all my wisdom.\n\nIs not that which you would deem your own, he said, that which you\nhave in your own power, and which you are able to use as you would\ndesire, for example, an ox or a sheep would you not think that which\nyou could sell and give and sacrifice to any god whom you pleased,\nto be your own, and that which you could not give or sell or sacrifice\nyou would think not to be in your own power?\n\nYes, I said (for I was certain that something good would come out of\nthe questions, which I was impatient to hear); yes, such things, and\nsuch things only are mine.\n\nYes, he said, and you would mean by animals living beings?\n\nYes, I said.\n\nYou agree then, that-those animals only are yours with which you\nhave the power to do all these things which I was just naming?\n\nI agree.\n\nThen, after a pause, in which he seemed to be lost in the\ncontemplation of something great, he said: Tell me, Socrates, have you\nan ancestral Zeus? Here, anticipating the final move, like a person\ncaught in a net, who gives a desperate twist that he may get away, I\nsaid: No, Dionysodorus, I have not.\n\nWhat a miserable man you must be then, he said; you are not an\nAthenian at all if you have no ancestral gods or temples, or any other\nmark of gentility.\n\nNay, Dionysodorus, I said, do not be rough; good words, if you\nplease; in the way of religion I have altars and temples, domestic and\nancestral, and all that other Athenians have.\n\nAnd have not other Athenians, he said, an ancestral Zeus?\n\nThat name, I said, is not to be found among the Ionians, whether\ncolonists or citizens of Athens; an ancestral Apollo there is, who\nis the father of Ion, and a family Zeus, and a Zeus guardian of the\nphratry, and an Athene guardian of the phratry. But the name of\nancestral Zeus is unknown to us.\n\nNo matter, said Dionysodorus, for you admit that you have Apollo,\nZeus, and Athene.\n\nCertainly, I said.\n\nAnd they are your gods, he said.\n\nYes, I said, my lords and ancestors.\n\nAt any rate they are yours, he said, did you not admit that?\n\nI did, I said; what is going to happen to me?\n\nAnd are not these gods animals? for you admit that all things\nwhich have life are animals; and have not these gods life?\n\nThey have life, I said.\n\nThen are they not animals?\n\nThey are animals, I said.\n\nAnd you admitted that of animals those are yours which you could\ngive away or sell or offer in sacrifice, as you pleased?\n\nI did admit that, Euthydemus, and I have no way of escape.\n\nWell then, said he, if you admit that Zeus and the other gods are\nyours, can you sell them or give them away or do what you will with\nthem, as you would with other animals?\n\nAt this I was quite struck dumb, Crito, and lay prostrate. Ctesippus\ncame to the rescue.\n\nBravo, Heracles, brave words, said he.\n\nBravo Heracles, or is Heracles a Bravo? said Dionysodorus.\n\nPoseidon, said Ctesippus, what awful distinctions. I will have no\nmore of them; the pair are invincible.\n\nThen, my dear Crito, there was universal applause of the speakers\nand their words, and what with laughing and clapping of hands and\nrejoicings the two men were quite overpowered; for hitherto their\npartisans only had cheered at each successive hit, but now the whole\ncompany shouted with delight until the columns of the Lyceum\nreturned the sound, seeming to sympathize in their joy. To such a\npitch was I affected myself, that I made a speech, in which I\nacknowledged that I had never seen the like of their wisdom; I was\ntheir devoted servant, and fell to praising and admiring of them. What\nmarvellous dexterity of wit, I said, enabled you to acquire this great\nperfection in such a short time? There is much, indeed, to admire in\nyour words, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, but there is nothing that I\nadmire more than your magnanimous disregard of any opinion-whether\nof the many, or of the grave and reverend seigniors-you regard only\nthose who are like yourselves. And I do verily believe that there\nare few who are like you, and who would approve of such arguments; the\nmajority of mankind are so ignorant of their value, that they would be\nmore ashamed of employing them in the refutation of others than of\nbeing refuted by them. I must further express my approval of your kind\nand public-spirited denial of all differences, whether of good and\nevil, white or black, or any other; the result of which is that, as\nyou say, every mouth is sewn up, not excepting your own, which\ngraciously follows the example of others; and thus all ground of\noffence is taken away. But what appears to me to be more than all\nis, that this art and invention of yours has been so admirably\ncontrived by you, that in a very short time it can be imparted to\nany one. I observed that Ctesippus learned to imitate you in no\ntime. Now this quickness of attainment is an excellent thing; but at\nthe same time I would advise you not to have any more public\nentertainments; there is a danger that men may undervalue an art which\nthey have so easy an opportunity of acquiring; the exhibition would be\nbest of all, if the discussion were confined to your two selves; but\nif there must be an audience, let him only be present who is willing\nto pay a handsome fee;-you should be careful of this;-and if you are\nwise, you will also bid your disciples discourse with no man but you\nand themselves. For only what is rare is valuable; and \"water,\" which,\nas Pindar says, is the \"best of all things,\" is also the cheapest. And\nnow I have only to request that you will receive Cleinias and me among\nyour pupils.\n\nSuch was the discussion, Crito; and after a few more words had\npassed between us we went away. I hope that you will come to them with\nme, since they say that they are able to teach any one who will give\nthem money; no age or want of capacity is an impediment. And I must\nrepeat one thing which they said, for your especial benefit,-that\nthe learning of their art did not at all interfere with the business\nof money-making.\n\nCri. Truly, Socrates, though I am curious and ready to learn, yet\nI fear that I am not like minded with Euthydemus, but one of the other\nsort, who, as you were saying, would rather be refuted by such\narguments than use them in refutation of others. And though I may\nappear ridiculous in venturing to advise you, I think that you may\nas well hear what was said to me by a man of very considerable\npretensions-he was a professor of legal oratory-who came away from you\nwhile I was walking up and down. \"Crito,\" said he to me, \"are you\ngiving no attention to these wise men?\" \"No, indeed,\" I said to him;\n\"I could not get within hearing of them-there was such a crowd.\"\n\"You would have heard something worth hearing if you had.\" \"What was\nthat?\" I said. \"You would have heard the greatest masters of the art\nof rhetoric discoursing.\" \"And what did you think of them?\" I said.\n\"What did I think of them?\" he said:-\"theirs was the sort of discourse\nwhich anybody might hear from men who were playing the fool, and\nmaking much ado about nothing. \"That was the expression which he used.\n\"Surely,\" I said, \"philosophy is a charming thing.\" \"Charming!\" he\nsaid; \"what simplicity! philosophy is nought; and I think that if\nyou had been present you would have been ashamed of your friend-his\nconduct was so very strange in placing himself at the mercy of men who\ncare not what they say, and fasten upon every word. And these, as I\nwas telling you, are supposed to be the most eminent professors of\ntheir time. But the truth is, Crito, that the study itself and the men\nthemselves are utterly mean and ridiculous.\" Now censure of the\npursuit, Socrates, whether coming from him or from others, appears\nto me to be undeserved; but as to the impropriety of holding a\npublic discussion with such men, there, I confess that, in my opinion,\nhe was in the right.\n\nSoc. O Crito, they are marvellous men; but what was I going to\nsay? First of all let me know;-What manner of man was he who came up\nto you and censured philosophy; was he an orator who himself practises\nin the courts, or an instructor of orators, who makes the speeches\nwith which they do battle?\n\nCri. He was certainly not an orator, and I doubt whether he had ever\nbeen into court; but they say that he knows the business, and is a\nclever man, and composes wonderful speeches.\n\nSoc. Now I understand, Crito; he is one of an amphibious class, whom\nI was on the point of mentioning-one of those whom Prodicus\ndescribes as on the border-ground between philosophers and\nstatesmen-they think that they are the wisest of all men, and that\nthey are generally esteemed the wisest; nothing but the rivalry of the\nphilosophers stands in their way; and they are of the opinion that\nif they can prove the philosophers to be good for nothing, no one will\ndispute their title to the palm of wisdom, for that they are\nthemselves really the wisest, although they are apt to be mauled by\nEuthydemus and his friends, when they get hold of them in\nconversation. This opinion which they entertain of their own wisdom is\nvery natural; for they have a certain amount of philosophy, and a\ncertain amount of political wisdom; there is reason in what they\nsay, for they argue that they have just enough of both, and so they\nkeep out-of the way all risks and conflicts and reap the fruits of\ntheir wisdom.\n\nCri. What do you say of them, Socrates? There is certainly something\nspecious in that notion of theirs.\n\nSoc. Yes, Crito, there is more speciousness than truth; they\ncannot be made to understand the nature of intermediates. For all\npersons or things, which are intermediate between two other things,\nand participate in both of them-if one of these two things is good and\nthe other evil, are better than the one and worse than the other;\nbut if they are in a mean between two good things which do not tend to\nthe same end, they fall short of either of their component elements in\nthe attainment of their ends. Only in the case when the two\ncomponent elements which do not tend to the same end are evil is the\nparticipant better than either. Now, if philosophy and political\naction are both good, but tend to different ends, and they participate\nin both, and are in a mean between them, then they are talking\nnonsense, for they are worse than either; or, if the one be good and\nthe other evil, they are better than the one and worse than the other;\nonly on the supposition that they are both evil could there be any\ntruth in what they say. I do not think that they will admit that their\ntwo pursuits are either wholly or partly evil; but the truth is,\nthat these philosopher-politicians who aim at both fall short of\nboth in the attainment of their respective ends, and are really third,\nalthough they would like to stand first. There is no need, however, to\nbe angry at this ambition of theirs-which may be forgiven; for every\nman ought to be loved who says and manfully pursues and works out\nanything which is at all like wisdom: at the same time we shall do\nwell to see them as they really are.\n\nCri. I have often told you, Socrates, that I am in a constant\ndifficulty about my two sons. What am I to do with them? There is no\nhurry about the younger one, who is only a child; but the other,\nCritobulus, is getting on, and needs some one who will improve him.\nI cannot help thinking, when I hear you talk, that there is a sort\nof madness in many of our anxieties about our children:-in the first\nplace, about marrying a wife of good family to be the mother of\nthem, and then about heaping up money for them-and yet taking no\ncare about their education. But then again, when I contemplate any\nof those who pretend to educate others, I am amazed. To me, if I am to\nconfess the truth, they all seem to be such outrageous beings: so that\nI do not know how I can advise the youth to study philosophy.\n\nSoc. Dear Crito, do you not know that in every profession the\ninferior sort are numerous and good for nothing, and the good are\nfew and beyond all price: for example, are not gymnastic and\nrhetoric and money-making and the art of the general, noble arts?\n\nCri. Certainly they are, in my judgment.\n\nSoc. Well, and do you not see that in each of these arts the many\nare ridiculous performers?\n\nCri. Yes, indeed, that is very true.\n\nSoc. And will you on this account shun all these pursuits yourself\nand refuse to allow them to your son?\n\nCri. That would not be reasonable, Socrates.\n\nSoc. Do you then be reasonable, Crito, and do not mind whether the\nteachers of philosophy are good or bad, but think only of philosophy\nherself. Try and examine her well and truly, and if she be evil seek\nto turn away all men from her, and not your sons only; but if she be\nwhat I believe that she is, then follow her and serve her, you and\nyour house, as the saying is, and be of good cheer.\n\n-THE END-",
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