Soc. And what is love of gain? What can it be, and who are the lovers of gain? Fr. In my opinion, they are those who think it worth while to make gain out of things of no worth. Soc. Is it your opinion that they know those things to be of no worth, or do not know? For if they do not know, you mean that the lovers of gain are fools. Fr. No, I do not mean they are fools, but rascals who wickedly yield to gain, because they know that the things out of which they dare to make their gain are worthless, and yet they dare to be lovers of gain from mere shamelessness. Soc. Well now, do you mean by the lover of gain such a man, for instance, as a farmer who plants something which he knows is a worthless herb, and thinks fit to make gain out of it when he has reared it up? Is that the sort of man you mean? Fr. The lover of gain, as such, Socrates, thinks he ought to make gain from everything. Soc. Please do not speak so recklessly, as though you had been wronged by someone, but give me your attention and answer just as you would if I were beginning my questions over again. Do you not admit that the lover of gain has knowledge of the worth of the thing from which he thinks it worth while to make gain? Fr. I do. Soc. Then who has knowledge of the worth of plants, and of the sort of season and soil in which they are worth planting—if we too may throw in one of those artful phrases The “artful phrase” here is the jingling ὥρᾳ καὶ χώρᾳ , characteristic of the rhetoric taught by Gorgias and his followers. which adroit pleaders use to trick out their speeches in the law courts? Fr. For my part, I should say a farmer. Soc. And by “think it worth while to make gain” do you mean aught but “thinking one ought to make gain”? Fr. I mean that. Soc. Then do not attempt to deceive me, who am now quite an elderly person, 
 and you so young, by making, as you did just now, an answer that is not even your own thought; but tell me in all truth, do you suppose that any man who was taking up farming and who knew it was a worthless plant that he was planting, could think to make gain from it? Fr. Upon my word, I do not. Soc. Or again, take a horseman who knows that he is providing worthless food for his horse; do you suppose he is unaware that he is destroying his horse? Fr. I do not. Soc. So he does not think to make gain from that worthless food. Fr. No. Soc. Or again, take a navigator who has furnished his ship with worthless spars and ropes; do you think he is unaware that he will suffer for it, and will be in danger of being lost himself, and of losing the ship and all her cargo? Fr. I do not. Soc. So he does not think to make gain from 
 that worthless tackle? Fr. No, indeed. Soc. But does a general, who knows that his army has worthless arms, think to make gain, or think it worth while to make gain, from them? Fr. By no means. Soc. Or does a flute-player who has worthless flutes, or a harper with a lyre, a bowman with a bow, or anyone else at all, in short, among ordinary craftsmen or sensible men in general, with any implement or other equipment of any sort that is worthless, think to make gain from it? Fr. To all appearance, no. Soc. Then whoever can they be, your lovers of gain? For I presume they are not the people whom we have successively mentioned, but people who know their worthless things, and yet think they are to make gain from them. But in that case, by what you say, remarkable sir, no man alive is a lover of gain Fr. Well, Socrates, I should like to call those lovers of gain who from insatiable greed consumedly long for things that are even quite petty and of little or no worth, 
 and so love gain, in each case. Soc. Not knowing, of course, my excellent friend, that the things are worthless; for we have already convinced ourselves by our argument that this is impossible. Fr. I agree. Soc. And if not knowing this, clearly they are ignorant of it, but think that those worthless things are worth a great deal. Fr. Apparently. Soc. Now, of course lovers of gain must love gain? Fr. Yes. Soc. And by gain you mean the opposite of loss?