Str. You divided all productive art widthwise, as it were, before; now divide it lengthwise. Theaet. Assume that it is done. Str. In that way we now get four parts in all; two belong to us and are human, and two belong to the gods and are divine. Theaet. Yes. Str. And again, when the section is made the other way, one part of each half has to do with the making of real things, and the two remaining parts may very well be called image-making; and so productive art is again divided into two parts. Theaet. Tell me again how each part is distinguished. Str. We know that we and all the other animals, and fire, water, and their kindred elements, out of which natural objects are formed, are one and all the very offspring and creations of God, do we not? Theaet. Yes. Str. And corresponding to each and all of these there are images, not the things themselves, which are also made by superhuman skill. Theaet. What are they? Str. The appearances in dreams, and those that arise by day and are said to be spontaneous—a shadow when
 a dark object interrupts the firelight, or when twofold light, from the objects themselves and from outside, meets on smooth and bright surfaces and causes upon our senses an effect the reverse of our ordinary sight, thus producing an image. This was the current explanation of reflection. Mirrors and smooth objects were supposed to contain a luminous principle which met on the smooth surface with the light coming from the object reflected. So in the act of vision the fire within the eye united with the external fire ( Plat. Tim. 46a ). The words τῆς ἔμπροσθεν . . . ἐναντίαν αἴσθησιν refer to the transposition of right and left in the reflection (cf. Plat. Theaet. 193c ). Theaet. Yes, these are two works of divine creation, the thing itself and the corresponding image in each case. Str. And how about our own art? Shall we not say that we make a house by the art of building, and by the art of painting make another house, a sort of man-made dream produced for those who are awake? Theaet. Certainly. Str. And in the same way, we say, all the other works of our creative activity also are twofold and go in pairs—the thing itself, produced by the art that creates real things, and the image, produced by the image-making art. Theaet. I understand better now; and I agree that there are two kinds of production, each of them twofold—the divine and the human by one method of bisection, and by the other real things and the product that consists of a sort of likenesses. Str. We must remember that there were to be two parts of the image-making class, the likeness-making and the fantastic,
 if we should find that falsehood really existed and was in the class of real being. Theaet. Yes, there were. Str. But we found that falsehood does exist, and therefore we shall now, without any doubts, number the kinds of image-making art as two, shall we not? Theaet. Yes. Str. Let us, then, again bisect the fantastic art. Theaet. How? Str. One kind is that produced by instruments, the other that in which the producer of the appearance offers himself as the instrument. Theaet. What do you mean? Str. When anyone, by employing his own person as his instrument, makes his own figure or voice seem similar to yours, that kind of fantastic art is called mimetic. Theaet. Yes. Str. Let us, then, classify this part under the name of mimetic art; but as for all the rest, let us be so self-indulgent as to let it go
 and leave it for someone else to unify and name appropriately. Theaet. Very well, let us adopt that classification and let the other part go. Str. But it is surely worth while to consider, Theaetetus, that the mimetic art also has two parts; and I will tell you why. Theaet. Please do. Str. Some who imitate do so with knowledge of that which they imitate, and others without such knowledge. And yet what division can we imagine more complete than that which separates knowledge and ignorance? Theaet. None. Str. The example I just gave was of imitation by those who know, was it not? For a man who imitates you would know you and your figure. Theaet. Of course. Str. But what of the figure of justice and, in a word, of virtue in general? Are there not many who have no knowledge of it, but only a sort of opinion, and who try with the greatest eagerness to make this which they themselves think is virtue seem to exist within them, by imitating it in acts and words to the best of their ability? Theaet. Yes, there are very many such people. Str. Do all of them, then, fail in the attempt to seem to be just when they are not so at all? Or is quite the opposite the case? Theaet. Quite the opposite. Str. Then I think we must say that such an imitator is quite distinct from the other,
 the one who does not know from the one who knows. Theaet. Yes. Str. Where, then, can the fitting name for each of the two be found? Clearly it is not an easy task, because there was, it seems, among the earlier thinkers a long established and careless indolence in respect to the division of classes or genera into forms or species, so that nobody even tried to make such divisions; therefore there cannot be a great abundance of names. However, even though the innovation in language be a trifle bold, let us, for the sake of making a distinction, call the imitation which is based on opinion, opinion-imitation,
 and that which is founded on knowledge, a sort of scientific imitation. Theaet. Agreed. Str. We mat therefore apply ourselves to the former, for we found that the sophist was among those who imitate but was not among those who know. Theaet. Very true. Str. Then let us examine the opinion-imitator as if he were a piece of iron, and see whether he is sound or there is still some seam in him. Theaet. Let us do so. Str. Well, there is a very marked seam. For some of these imitators are simple-minded and think they know that about which they have only opinion, but the other kind because of their experience in the rough and tumble of arguments, strongly suspect and fear that they are ignorant of the things which they pretend before the public to know. Theaet. Certainly the two classes you mention both exist. Str. Then shall we call one the simple imitator and the other the dissembling imitator? Theaet. That is reaonable, at any rate. Str. And shall we say that the latter forms one class or two again? Theaet. That is your affair. Str. I am considering, and I think I can see two classes I see one who can dissemble in long speeches in public before a multitude, and the other who does it in private in short speeches and forces the person who converses with him to contradict himself. Theaet. You are quite right. Str. And what name shall we give to him who makes the longer speeches? Statesman or popular orator? Theaet. Popular orator. Str. And what shall we call the other? Philosopher or sophist? Theaet. We cannot very well call him philosopher, since by our hypothesis
 he is ignorant; but since he is all imitator of the philosopher, he will evidently have a name derived from his, and I think I am sure at last that we must truly call him the absolutely real and actual sophist. Str. Shall we then bind up his name as we did before, winding it up from the end to the beginning? Theaet. By all means. Str. The imitative kind of the dissembling part of the art of opinion which is part of the art of contradiction and belongs to the fantastic class
 of the image-making art, and is not divine, but human, and has been defined in arguments as the juggling part of productive activity—he who says that the true sophist is of this descent and blood will, in my opinion, speak the exact truth. Theaet. Yes, he certainly will.