I mean puzzling us and asking questions to which we cannot at the moment give a satisfactory answer. Let us not imagine that the end of our present discussion is a mere puzzling of us all, but if we cannot answer, you must do so; for you gave us a promise. Consider, therefore, whether you yourself must distinguish the kinds of pleasure and knowledge or will let that go, in case you are able and willing to make clear in some other way the matters now at issue among us.

I need no longer anticipate anything terrible, since you put it in that way; for the words in case you are willing relieve me of all fear. And besides, I think some god has given me a vague recollection.

How is that, and what is the recollection about?

I remember now having heard long ago in a dream, or perhaps when I was awake, some talk about pleasure and wisdom to the effect that neither of the two is the good, but some third thing, different from them and better than both. However, if this be now clearly proved to us, pleasure is deprived of victory for the good would no longer be identical with it. Is not that true?

It is.

And we shall have, in my opinion, no longer any need of distinguishing the kinds of pleasure. But the progress of the discussion will make that still clearer.

Excellent! Just go on as you have begun.

First, then, let us agree on some further small points.

What are they?

Is the nature of the good necessarily perfect or imperfect?

The most perfect of all things, surely, Socrates.

Well, and is the good sufficient?

Of course; so that it surpasses all other things in sufficiency.

And nothing, I should say, is more certain about it than that every intelligent being pursues it, desires it, wishes to catch and get possession of it, and has no interest in anything in which the good is not included.

There is no denying that.

Let us, then, look at the life of pleasure and the life of wisdom separately and consider and judge them.

How do you mean?

Let there be no wisdom in the life of pleasure and no pleasure in the life of wisdom. For if either of them is the good, it cannot have need of anything else, and if, either be found to need anything, we can no longer regard it as our true good.

No, of course not.

Shall we then undertake to test them through you?

By all means.

Then answer.

Ask.

Would you, Protarchus, be willing to live your whole life in the enjoyment of the greatest pleasures?

Of course I should.

Would you think you needed anything further, if you were in complete possession of that enjoyment?

Certainly not.

But consider whether you would not have some need of wisdom and intelligence and power of calculating your wants and the like.

Why should I? If I have enjoyment, I have everything.

Then living thus you would enjoy the greatest pleasures all your life?

Yes; why not?

But if you did not possess mind or memory or knowledge or true opinion, in the first place, you would not know whether you were enjoying your pleasures or not. That must be true, since you are utterly devoid of intellect, must it not?

Yes, it must.

And likewise, if you had no memory you could not even remember that you ever did enjoy pleasure, and no recollection whatever of present pleasure could remain with you; if you had no true opinion you could not think you were enjoying pleasure at the time when you were enjoying it, and if you were without power of calculation you would not be able to calculate that you would enjoy it in the future; your life would not be that of a man, but of a mollusc or some other shell-fish like the oyster. Is that true, or can we imagine any other result?

We certainly cannot.

And can we choose such a life?

This argument, Socrates, has made me utterly speechless for the present.

Well, let us not give in yet. Let us take up the life of mind and scrutinize that in turn.

What sort of life do you mean?

I ask whether anyone would be willing to live possessing wisdom and mind and knowledge and perfect memory of all things, but having no share, great or small, in pleasure, or in pain, for that matter, but being utterly unaffected by everything of that sort.

Neither of the two lives can ever appear desirable to me, Socrates, or, I think, to anyone else.