Those that are related to the good and the beautiful, such as συμφέροντα (advantageous), λυσιτελοῦντα (profitable), ὠφέλιμα (useful), κερδαλέα (gainful), and their opposites.

You might by this time be able to find the meaning of συμφέροντα by yourself in the light of the previous explanations, for it appears to be own brother to ἐπιστήμη. It means nothing else but the motion (φορά) of the soul in company with the world, and naturally things which are done by such a power are called συμφέροντα and σύμφορα because they are carried round with (συμπεριφέρεσθαι) the world. But κερδαλέον is from κέρδος (gain). If you restore nu in the word κέρδος in place of the delta, the meaning is plain; it signifies good, but in another way. Because it passes through and is mingled (κεράννυται) with all things, he who named it gave it this name which indicates that function; but he inserted a delta instead of nu and said κέρδος.

And what is λυσιτελοῦν?

I do not think, Hermogenes, the name-giver gives the meaning to λυσιτελοῦν which it has in the language of tradesfolk, when profit sets free (ἀπολύει) the sum invested, but he means that because it is the swiftest thing in the world it does not allow things to remain at rest and does not allow the motion to come to any end (τέλος) of movement or to stop or pause, but always, if any end of the motion is attempted, it sets it free, making it unceasing and immortal. It is in this sense, I think, that the good is dubbed λυσιτελοῦν, for it frees (λύει) the end (τέλος) of the motion. But the word ὠφέλιμον is a foreign one, which Homer often uses in the verbal form ὀφέλλειν. This is a synonym of increase and create.

What shall be our explanations of the opposites of these?

Those of them that are mere negatives, need, I think, no discussion.

Which are those?

Disadvantageous, useless, unprofitable, and ungainful.

True.

But βλαβερόν (harmful) and ζημιῶδες (hurtful) do need it.

Yes.

And βλαβερόν means that which harms (βλάπτον) the flow (ῥοῦν); but βλάπτον means wishing to fasten (ἅπτειν), and ἅπτειν is the same thing as δεῖν (bind), which the name-giver constantly finds fault with. Now τὸ βουλόμενον ἅπτειν ῥοῦν (that which wishes to fasten the flow) would most correctly be called βουλαπτεροῦν, but is called βλαβερόν merely, as I think, to make it prettier.

Elaborate names these are, Socrates, that result from your method. Just now, when you pronounced βουλαπτεροῦν, you looked as if you had made up your mouth to whistle the flute-prelude of the hymn to Athena.

Not I, Hermogenes, am responsible, but those who gave the name.

True. Well, what is the origin of ζημιῶδες?

What can the origin of ζημιῶδες be? See, Hermogenes, how true my words are when I say that by adding and taking away letters people alter the sense of words so that even by very slight changes they sometimes make them mean the opposite of what they meant before; as, for instance, in the case of the word δέον (obligation, right), for that just occurred to me and I was reminded of it by what I was going to say to you, that this fine modern language of ours has turned δέον and also ζημιῶδες round, so that each has the opposite of its original meaning, whereas the ancient language shows clearly the real sense of both words.

What do you mean?

I will tell you. You know that our ancestors made good use of the sounds of iota and delta, and that is especially true of the women, who are most addicted to preserving old forms of speech. But nowadays people change iota to eta or epsilon, and delta to zeta, thinking they have a grander sound.

How is that?

For instance, in the earliest times they called day ἱμέρα, others said ἑμέρα, and now they say ἡμέρα.

That is true.

Only the ancient word discloses the intention of the name-giver, don’t you know? For day comes out of darkness to men; they welcome it and long (ἱμείρουσι) for it, and so they called it ἱμέρα.

That is clear.

But now ἡμέρα is masquerading so that you could not guess its meaning. Why, some people think day is called ἡμέρα because it makes things gentle (ἥμερα).

I believe they do.

And you know the ancients called ζυγόν (yoke) δυογόν.

Certainly.

And ζυγόν conveys no clear meaning, but the name δυογόν is quite properly given to that which binds two together for the purpose of draught; now, however, we say ζυγόν. There are a great many other such instances.

Yes, that is plain.

Similarly the word δέον (obligation) at first, when spoken in this way, denotes the opposite of all words connected with the good; for although it is a form of good, δέον seems to be a bond (δεσμός) and hindrance of motion, own brother, as it were, toβλαβερόν.

Yes, Socrates, it certainly does seem so.

But it does not, if you employ the ancient word, which is more likely to be right than the present one. You will find that it agrees with the previous words for good, if instead of the epsilon you restore the iota, as it was in old times for διόν (going through), not δέον, signifies good, which the name-giver praises. And so the giver of names does not contradict himself, but δέον (obligation, right), ὠφέλιμον (useful), λυσιτελοῦν (profitable), κερδαλέον (gainful), ἀγαθόν (good), ξυμφέρον (advantageous), and εὔπορον (prosperous), are plainly identical, signifying under different names the principle of arrangement and motion which has constantly been praised, whereas the principle of constraint and bondage is found fault with. And likewise in the case of ζημιῶδες, if you restore the ancient delta in place of the zeta, you will see that the name, pronounced δημιῶδες, was given to that which binds motion (δοῦντι τὸ ἰόν).

What of ἡδονή (pleasure) and λύπη (pain) and ἐπιθυμία (desire), and the like, Socrates?

I do not think they are at all difficult, Hermogenes, for ἡδονή appears to have this name because it is the action that tends towards advantage (ἡ πρὸς τὴν ὄνησιν τείνουσα); the delta is inserted, so that we say ἡδονή instead of ἡονή. Λύπη appears to have received its name from the dissolution (διάλυσις) of the body which takes place through pain. Ἀνία (sorrow) is that which hinders motion (ἰέναι). Ἀλγηδών (distress) is, I think, a foreign word, derived from ἀλγεινός (distressing). Ὀδύνη (grief) appears to be so called from the putting on of pain (τῆς ἐνδύσεως τῆς λύπης). Ἀχθηδών (vexation) has a name, as anyone can see, made in the likeness of the weight (ἄχθος, burden) which vexation imposes upon motion. Χαρά (joy) seems to have its name from the plenteous diffusion (διάχυσις) of the flow of the soul. Τέρψις (delight) is from τερπνόν (delightful); and τερπνόν is called from the creeping (ἕρψις) of the soul, which is likened to a breath (πνοή), and would properly be called ἕρπνουν, but the name has been changed in course of time to τερπνόν. Εὐφροσύνη(mirth) needs no explanation, for it is clear to anyone that from the motion of the soul in harmony (εὖ) with the universe, it received the name εὐφεροσύνη, as it rightfully is; but we call it ευφροσύνη. Nor is there any difficulty about ἐπιθυμία (desire), for this name was evidently given to the power that goes (ἰοῦσα) into the soul (θυμός). And θυμός has its name from the raging (θύσις) and boiling of the soul.