Then is it I, the questioner, or you the answerer, that are found to be speaking about these things?

I.

And what if I ask what are the letters in Socrates, and you tell me? Which will be the speaker?

I.

Come then, tell me, as a principle, when we have question and answer, which is the speaker—the questioner, or the answerer?

The answerer, I should say, Socrates.

And throughout the argument so far, I was the questioner?

Yes.

And you the answerer?

Quite so.

Well then, which of us has spoken what has been said?

Apparently, Socrates, from what we have admitted, it was I.

And it was said that Alcibiades, the fair son of Cleinias, did not know about just and unjust, but thought he did, and intended to go to the Assembly as adviser to the Athenians on what he knows nothing about; is not that so?

Apparently.

Then, to quote Euripides, Eur. Hipp. 352—σοῦ τάδ’, οὐκ ἐμοῦ κλύεις. the result is, Alcibiades, that you may be said to have heard it from yourself, not me,Eur. Hipp. 352 and it is not I who say it, but you, and you tax me with it in vain. And indeed what you say is quite true. For it is a mad scheme this, that you meditate, my excellent friend—of teaching things that you do not know, since you have taken no care to learn them.

I think, Socrates, that the Athenians and the rest of the Greeks rarely deliberate as to which is the more just or unjust course: for they regard questions of this sort as obvious; and so they pass them over and consider which course will prove more expedient in the result. For the just and the expedient, I take it, are not the same, but many people have profited by great wrongs that they have committed, whilst others, I imagine, have had no advantage from doing what was right.

What then? Granting that the just and the expedient are in fact as different as they can be, you surely do not still suppose you know what is expedient for mankind, and why it is so?

Well, what is the obstacle, Socrates,—unless you are going to ask me again from whom I learnt it, or how I discovered it for myself?

What a way of going on! If your answer is incorrect, and a previous argument can be used to prove it so, you claim to be told something new, and a different line of proof, as though the previous one were like a poor worn-out coat which you refuse to wear any longer; you must be provided instead with something clean and unsoiled in the way of evidence. But I shall ignore your sallies in debate, and shall none the less ask you once more, where you learnt your knowledge of what is expedient, and who is your teacher, asking in one question all the things I asked before; and now you will clearly find yourself in the same plight, and will be unable to prove that you know the expedient either through discovery or through learning. But as you are dainty, and would dislike a repeated taste of the same argument, I pass over this question of whether you know or do not know what is expedient for the Athenians: but why have you not made it clear whether the just and the expedient are the same or different? If you like, question me as I did you, or if you prefer, argue out the matter in your own way.

But I am not sure I should be able, Socrates, to set it forth to you.

Well, my good sir, imagine I am the people in Assembly; even there, you know, you will have to persuade each man singly, will you not?

Yes.

And the same man may well persuade one person singly, and many together, about things that he knows, just as the schoolmaster, I suppose, persuades either one or many about letters?

Yes.

And again, will not the same man persuade either one or many about number?

Yes.

And this will be the man who knows—the arithmetician?

Quite so.

And you too can persuade a single man about things of which you can persuade many?

Presumably.

And these are clearly things that you know.

Yes.

And the only difference between the orator speaking before the people and one who speaks in a conversation like ours is that the former persuades men in a number together of the same things, and the latter persuades them one at a time?

It looks like it.

Come now, since we see that the same man may persuade either many or one, try your unpracticed hand on me, and endeavor to show that the just is sometimes not expedient.

You are insolent, Socrates!

This time, at any rate, I am going to have the insolence to persuade you of the opposite of that which you decline to prove to me.

Speak, then.

Just answer my questions.

No, you yourself must be the speaker.

What? Do you not wish above all things to be persuaded?

By all means, to be sure.

And you would best be persuaded if you should say the case is so?

I agree.

Then answer; and if you do not hear your own self say that the just is expedient, put no trust in the words of anyone again.

I will not: but I may as well answer; for I do not think I shall come to any harm.

You are quite a prophet! Now tell me, do you consider some just things to be expedient, and others not?

Yes.

And again, some noble, and some not?

What do you mean by that question?

I would ask whether anyone ever seemed to you to be doing what was base and yet just.

Never.

Well, are all just things noble?

Yes.

And what of noble things, in their turn? Are they all good, or some only, while others are not?

In my opinion, Socrates, some noble things are evil.

And some base things are good?

Yes.

Do you mean as in one of the many cases where men have gone to rescue a comrade or kinsman in battle, and have been either wounded or killed, while those who did not go to the rescue, as duty bade, have got off safe and sound?

Precisely.

And such a rescue you call noble, in respect of the endeavor to save those whom it was one’s duty to save; and this is courage, is it not?

Yes.

But you call it evil, in respect of the deaths and wounds?

Yes.

And is not the courage one thing, and the death another?

Certainly.

Then it is not in the same respect that rescuing one’s friends is noble and evil?

Apparently not.

Then see if, inasmuch as it is noble, it is also good; for in the present case you were admitting that the rescue was noble in respect of its courage: now consider this very thing, courage, and say whether it is good or bad. Consider it in this way: which would you choose to have, good things or evil?

Good.

And most of all, the greatest goods, and of such things you would least allow yourself to be deprived?

To be sure.

Then what do you say of courage? At what price would you allow yourself to be deprived of it?

I would give up life itself if I had to be a coward.

Then you regard cowardice as the uttermost evil.

I do.

On a par with death, it seems.

Yes.

And life and courage are the extreme opposites of death and cowardice?

Yes.

And you would most desire to have the former, and least the latter?

Yes.

Is that because you think the former best, and the latter worst?

To be sure.

So you reckon courage among the best things, and death among the worst.

I do.

Then the rescue of one’s friends in battle, inasmuch as it is noble in respect of the working of good by courage, you have termed noble?

Apparently.

But evil, in respect of the working of evil by death?

Yes.

So we may fairly describe each of these workings as follows: as you call either of them evil because of the evil it produces, so you must call it good because of the good it produces.

I believe that is so.

And again, are they noble inasmuch as they are good, and base inasmuch as they are evil?

Yes.

Then in saying that the rescue of one’s friends in battle is noble and yet evil, you mean just the same as if you called the rescue good, but evil.

I believe what you say is true, Socrates.

So nothing noble, in so far as it is noble, is evil, and nothing base, in so far as it is base, is good.

Apparently.

Now then, consider it again in this way: whoever does nobly, does well too, does he not?

Yes.

And are not those who do well happy?

Of course.

And they are happy because of the acquisition of good things?

Certainly.

And they acquire these by doing well and nobly?

Yes.

So doing well is good?

Of course.

And welfare is noble?

Yes.

Hence we have seen again that noble and good are the same thing.

Apparently.

Then whatever we find to be noble we shall find also to be good, by this argument at least.

We must.

Well then, are good things expedient or not?

Expedient.

And do you remember what our admissions were about just things?

I think we said that those who do just things must do noble things.

And that those who do noble things must do good things?

Yes.

And that good things are expedient?

Yes.

Hence just things, Alcibiades, are expedient.

So it seems.

Well now, are not you the speaker of all this, and I the questioner?

I seem to be, apparently.

So if anyone stands up to advise either the Athenians or the Peparethians, Peparethus is a small island off the coast of Thessaly. imagining that he understands what is just and unjust, and says that just things are sometimes evil, could you do other than laugh him to scorn, since you actually say yourself that just and expedient are the same?

But by Heaven, Socrates, I do not even know what I am saying, I feel altogether in such a strange state! For from moment to moment I change my view under your questioning.

And are you unaware, my friend, what this feeling is?

I am, quite.

Well, do you suppose that if someone should ask you whether you have two eyes or three, two hands or four, or anything else of that sort, you would answer differently from moment to moment, or always the same thing?

I begin to have misgivings about myself, but still I think I should make the same answer.

And the reason would be, because you know?

I think so.

Then if you involuntarily give contradictory answers, clearly it must be about things of which you are ignorant.

Very likely.

And you say you are bewildered in answering about just and unjust, noble and base, evil and good, expedient and inexpedient? Now, is it not obvious that your bewilderment is caused by your ignorance of these things?

I agree.

Then is it the case that when a man does not know a thing he must needs be bewildered in spirit regarding that thing?

Yes, of course.

Well now, do you know in what way you can ascend to heaven?

On my word, not I.

Is that too a kind of question about which your judgement is bewildered?

No, indeed.

Do you know the reason, or shall I state it?

State it.

It is, my friend, that while not knowing the matter you do not suppose that you know it.

Here again, how do you mean?

Do your share, in seeing for yourself. Are you bewildered about the kind of thing that you do not know and are aware of not knowing? For instance, you know, I suppose, that you do not know about the preparation of a tasty dish?

Quite so.

Then do you think for yourself how you are to prepare it, and get bewildered, or do you entrust it to the person who knows?

I do the latter.

And what if you should be on a ship at sea? Would you think whether the tiller should be moved inwards or outwards, The tiller was the handle of an oar at the side of the stern, and was moved towards or away from the center of the ship. and in your ignorance bewilder yourself, or would you entrust it to the helmsman, and be quiet?

I would leave it to him.

So you are not bewildered about what you do not know, so long as you know that you do not know?

It seems I am not,

Then do you note that mistakes in action also are due to this ignorance of thinking one knows when one does not?

Here again, how do you mean?

We set about acting, I suppose, when we think we know what we are doing?

Yes.

But when people think they do not know, I suppose they hand it over to others?

To be sure.

And so that kind of ignorant person makes no mistakes in life, because they entrust such matters to others?

Yes.

Who then are those who make mistakes? For, I take it, they cannot be those who know.

No, indeed.