Socrates. Isocrates is young yet, Phaedrus; 
 however, I am willing to say what I prophesy for him. Phaedrus. What is it? Socrates. I think he has a nature above the speeches of Lysias and possesses a nobler character; so that I should not be surprised if, as he grows older, he should so excel in his present studies that all who have ever treated of rhetoric shall seem less than children; and I suspect that these studies will not satisfy him, but a more divine impulse
 will lead him to greater things; for my friend, something of philosophy is inborn in his mind. This is the message that I carry from these deities to my favorite Isocrates, and do you carry the other to Lysias, your favorite. Phaedrus. It shall be done; but now let us go, since the heat has grown gentler. Socrates. Is it not well to pray to the deities here before we go? Phaedrus. Of course. Socrates. O beloved Pan and all ye other gods of this place, grant to me that I be made beautiful in my soul within, and that all external possessions be in harmony with my inner man. May I consider
 the wise man rich; and may I have such wealth as only the self-restrained man can bear or endure.—Do we need anything more, Phaedrus? For me that prayer is enough. Phaedrus. Let me also share in this prayer; for friends have all things in common. Socrates. Let us go.