Socrates relates a conversation he had in a wrestling-school I was making my way from the Academy straight to the Lyceum, by the road outside the town wall,—just under the wall; and when I reached the little gate that leads to the spring of Panops, i.e., of Hermes, the all-seeing I chanced there upon Hippothales, son of Hieronymus, and Ctesippus of Paeania, and some other youths with them, standing in a group together. Then Hippothales, as he saw me approaching, said: Socrates, whither away, and whence? 
				 	
				 	
				 	 
				 	 From the Academy, I replied, on my way straight to the Lyceum.

 Come over here, he said, straight to us. You will not put in here? But you may as well. 

 Where do you mean? I asked; and what is your company?

				 	 Here, he said, showing me there, just opposite the wall, a sort of enclosure and a door standing open. We pass our time there, he went on; not only we ourselves, but others besides,—a great many, and handsome. And what, pray, is this place, and what your pastime?

 A wrestling school, he said, of recent construction; and our pastime chiefly consists of discussions, in which we should be happy to let you have a share. 

 That is very good of you, I said; and who does the teaching there?

 Your own comrade, he replied, and supporter, Miccus. 

 Upon my word, I said, he is no slight person, but a qualified professor.

 Then will you please come in with us, he said, so as to see for yourself the company we have there? 
				 	
 
 I should be glad to hear first on what terms I am to enter, and which is the handsome one.

 Each of us, he replied, has a different fancy, Socrates. 

 Well, and which is yours, Hippothales? Tell me that.

 At this question he blushed; so I said: Ah, Hippothales, son of Hieronymus, you need not trouble to tell me whether you are in love with somebody or not: for I know you are not only in love, but also far advanced already in your passion. In everything else I may be a poor useless creature, but there is one gift that I have somehow from heaven,—to be able to recognize quickly a lover or a beloved.

 When he heard this, he blushed much more than ever. Then Ctesippus remarked: Quite charming, the way you blush, Hippothales, and shrink from telling Socrates the name; yet, if he spends but a little time with you, he will find you a regular torment, as he hears you repeat it again and again. He has deafened our ears, I can tell you, Socrates, by cramming them with Lysis : let him be a trifle in liquor, and as likely as not we start out of our sleep fancying we hear the name of Lysis. The descriptions he gives us in conversation, though dreadful enough, are not so very bad: it is when he sets about inundating us with his poems and prose compositions. More dreadful than all, he actually sings about his favorite in an extraordinary voice, which we have the trial of hearing. And now, at a question from you, he blushes! 

 Lysis apparently, I said, is somebody quite young: this I infer from the fact that I did not recognize the name when I heard it.

 That is because they do not usually call him by his name, he replied; he still goes by his paternal title, i.e., son of Democrates (see below) as his father is so very well known. You must, I am sure, be anything but ignorant of the boy’s appearance: that alone would be enough to know him by. 

 Let me hear, I said, whose son he is.

 The eldest son, he replied, of Democrates of Aexone. Ah well, I said, Hippothales, what an altogether noble and gallant love you have discovered there! Now please go on and give me a performance like those that you give your friends here, so that I may know whether you understand what a lover ought to say of his favorite to his face or to others.

 Do you attach any weight, Socrates, he asked, to anything you have heard this fellow say? 

 Tell me, I said; do you deny being in love with the person he mentions?

 Not I, he replied; but I do deny that I make poems and compositions on my favorite. 

 He is in a bad way, said Ctesippus; why, he raves like a madman! 

 Then I remarked: Hippothales, I do not want to hear your verses, or any ode that you may have indited to the youth; I only ask for their purport, that I may know your manner of dealing with your favorite.

 I expect this fellow will tell you, he replied: he has an accurate knowledge and recollection of them, if there is any truth in what he says of my having dinned them so constantly in his ears. 

 Quite so, on my soul, said Ctesippus; and a ridiculous story it is too, Socrates. To be a lover, and to be singularly intent on one’s boy, yet to have nothing particular to tell him that a mere boy could not say, is surely ridiculous: but he only writes and relates things that the whole city sings of, recalling Democrates and the boy’s grandfather Lysis and all his ancestors, with their wealth and the horses they kept, and their victories at Delphi , the Isthmus, and Nemea , The Pythian Games were held at Delphi , the Isthmian near Corinth , and the Nemean at Nemea , between Corinth and Argos . with chariot-teams and coursers, and, in addition, even hoarier antiquities than these. Only two days ago he was recounting to us in some poem of his the entertainment of Hercules,—how on account of his kinship with Hercules their forefather welcomed the hero, being himself the offspring of Zeus and of the daughter of their deme’s founder; such old wives’ tales, and many more of the sort, Socrates,—these are the things he tells and trolls, while compelling us to be his audience. 

 When I heard this I said: Oh, you ridiculous Hippothales, do you compose and chant a triumph song on yourself, before you have won your victory?

 It is not on myself, Socrates, he replied, that I either compose or chant it. 

 You think not, I said.

 Then what is the truth of it? he asked. 

 
				 	
 Most certainly, I replied, it is you to whom these songs refer. For if you prevail on your favorite, and he is such as you describe, all that you have spoken and sung will be so much glory to you, and a veritable eulogy upon your triumph in having secured such a favorite as that: whereas if he eludes your grasp, the higher the terms of your eulogy of your favorite, the greater will seem to be the charms and virtues you have lost, and you will be ridiculed accordingly. Hence anyone who deals wisely in love-matters, my friend, does not praise his beloved until he prevails, for fear of what the future may have in store for him. And besides, these handsome boys, when so praised and extolled, become full of pride and haughtiness: do you not think so?

 I do, he said.

 And then, the haughtier they are, the harder grows the task of capturing them?

 Yes, apparently. 

 And what do you think of a hunter who should scare away his quarry in hunting and make it harder to catch?

 Clearly he would be a poor one. 

 And hence to use speech and song, not for charming but for driving wild, would be gross fatuity, would it not?

 I think so. 

 Then take care, Hippothales, not to make yourself guilty of all these things by your verse-making; and yet I fancy you will not like to allow that a man who damages himself by poetry can be a good poet, so long as he is damaging to himself.

 On my soul, no, he said; of course it would be most absurd. But this is the very reason, Socrates, why I impart my feelings to you, and ask you for any useful advice you can give as to what conversation or conduct will help to endear one to one’s favorite. 

 That is not an easy thing to tell, I replied; but if you will agree to get him to have a talk with me, I daresay I could show you an example of the conversation you should hold with him, instead of those things that your friends say you speak and sing.

 There is no difficulty about that, he said. If you will go in with Ctesippus here, and take a seat and talk, I think he will come to you of his own accord; he is singularly fond of listening, Socrates, and besides, they are keeping the Hermaea, The festival of Hermes, who was specially honored in wrestling schools. so that the youths and boys are all mingled together. So he will come to you but if he does not, Ctesippus is intimate with him, as being a cousin of Menexenus; for Lysis has chosen Menexenus for his particular friend. So let Ctesippus call him if you find that he does not come of himself. 

 That is what I must do, I said. Whereupon I took Ctesippus with me into the wrestling school, and the others came after us. When we got inside, we found that the boys had performed the sacrifice in the place and, as the ceremonial business was now almost over, they were all playing at knuckle-bones and wearing their finest attire. Most of them were playing in the court out-of-doors; but some were at a game of odd-and-even in a corner of the undressing room, with a great lot of knuckle-bones which they drew from little baskets; and there were others standing about them and looking on. Among these was Lysis: he stood among the boys and youths with a garland on his head, a distinguished figure, deserving not merely the name of well-favored, but also of well-made and well-bred. As for us, we went and sat apart on the opposite side—for it was quiet there—and started some talk amongst ourselves. The result was that Lysis ever and anon turned round to observe us, and was obviously eager to join us. For a while, however, he hesitated, being too shy to approach us alone; till Menexenus stepped in for a moment from his game in the court and, on seeing me and Ctesippus, came to take a seat beside us. When Lysis saw him, he came along too and sat down with Menexenus. Then all the others came to us also; and I must add that Hippothales, when he saw a good many of them standing there, stood so as to be screened by them, in a position where he thought Lysis would not catch sight of him, as he feared that he might irritate him; in this way he stood by and listened.

 Then I, looking at Menexenus, asked him: Son of Demophon, which is the elder of you two?

 It is a point in dispute between us, he replied. 
			
 
 Then you must also be at variance, I said, as to which is the nobler.

 Yes, to be sure, he said.

 And moreover, which is the more beautiful, likewise.

 This made them both laugh.

 But of course I shall not ask, I said, which of you is the wealthier; for you are friends, are you not?

 Certainly we are, they replied.

 And, you know, friends are said to have everything in common, so that here at least there will be no difference between you, if what you say of your friendship is true.

 They agreed. 
				 	
 After that I was proceeding to ask them which was the juster and wiser of the two, when I was interrupted by somebody who came and fetched away Menexenus, saying that the wrestling-master was calling him: I understood that he was taking some part in the rites. So he went off; and then I asked Lysis: I suppose, Lysis, your father and mother are exceedingly fond of you? Yes, to be sure, he replied. Then they would like you to be as happy as possible? Yes, of course. Do you consider that a man is happy when enslaved and restricted from doing everything he desires? Not I, on my word, he said. Then if your father and mother are fond of you, and desire to see you happy, it is perfectly plain that they are anxious to secure your happiness. They must be, of course, he said. Hence they allow you to do what you like, and never scold you, or hinder you from doing what you desire? Yes, they do, Socrates, I assure you: they stop me from doing a great many things.