There he is again, he said, answering more than he is asked. For I am not asking what the means is, but only whether you know by some means. Yes, I did again answer more than I ought, I said, through lack of education. But forgive me, and I will now simply reply that I know what I know by some means. By one and the same means always, he asked, or sometimes by one and sometimes by another? Always, whenever I know, I replied, it is by this means. There again, he cried, you really must stop adding these qualifications. But I am so afraid this word always may bring us to grief. Not us, he rejoined, but, if anyone, you. Now answer: do you know by this means always? Always, I, replied, since I must withdraw the whenever. Then you always know by this means: that being the case, do you know some things by this means of knowing, and some things by another means, or everything by this? Everything by this, I replied; everything, that is, that I know. There it comes again, he cried; the same qualification! Well, I withdraw my that is, that I know. No, do not withdraw a single word, he said: I ask you for no concession. Only answer me: could you know all things if you did not know everything? It would be most surprising, I said. Then he went on: You may therefore add on now whatever you please: for you admit that you know all things. It seems I do, I replied, seeing that my that I know has no force, and I know everything. Now you have also admitted that you know always by the means whereby you know, whenever you know—or however you like to put it. For you have admitted that you always know and, at the same time, everything. Hence it is clear that even as a child you knew, both when you were being born and when you were being conceived: and before you yourself came into being or heaven and earth existed, you knew all things, since you always know. Yes, and I declare, he said, you yourself will always know all things, if it be my pleasure. Oh, pray let it be your pleasure, I replied, most worshipful Euthydemus, if what you say is really true. Only I do not quite trust in your efficacy, if your pleasure is not to he also that of your brother here, Dionysodorus: if it is, you will probably prevail. And tell me, I went on, since I cannot hope in a general way to dispute the statement that I know everything with persons so prodigiously clever—since it is your statement—how am I to say I know certain things, Euthydemus; for instance, that good men are unjust? Come, tell me, do I know this or not? You know it certainly, he said. What? I said. That the good are not unjust.

Quite so, I said: I knew that all the time; but that is not what I ask: tell me, where did I learn that the good are unjust? Nowhere, said Dionysodorus. Then I do not know this, I said. You are spoiling the argument, said Euthydemus to Dionysodorus, and we shall find that this fellow does not know, and is at once both knowing and unknowing. At this Dionysodorus reddened. But you, I said, what do you mean, Euthydemus. Do you find that your brother, who knows everything, has not spoken aright? I a brother of Euthydemus? quickly interposed Dionysodorus. Whereupon I said: Let me alone, good sir, till Euthydemus has taught me that I know that good men are unjust, and do not grudge me this lesson. You are running away, Socrates, said Dionysodorus; you refuse to answer. Yes, and with good reason, I said: for I am weaker than either one of you, so I have no scruple about running away from the two together. You see, I am sadly inferior to Hercules, who was no match for the hydra—that she-professor who was so clever that she sent forth many heads of debate in place of each one that was cut off; nor for another sort of, crab-professor from the sea— freshly, I fancy, arrived on shore; and, when the hero was so bothered with its leftward barks and bites, he summoned his nephew Iolaus to the rescue, and he brought him effective relief. But if my Iolaus were to come, he would do more harm than good.i.e. any kinsman or helper I might summon would only add to the number of your victims. Well, answer this, said Dionysodorus, now you have done your descanting: Was Iolaus more Hercules’ nephew than yours? I see I had best answer you, Dionysodorus, I said. For you will never cease putting questions—I think I may say I am sure of this—in a grudging, obstructing spirit, so that Euthydemus may not teach me that bit of cleverness. Then answer, he said. Well, I answer, I said, that Iolaus was Hercules’ nephew, but not mine, so far as I can see, in any way whatever. For Patrocles, my brother, was not his father; only Hercules’ brother Iphicles had a name somewhat similar to his. And Patrocles, he said, is your brother? Certainly, I said: that is, by the same mother, but not by the same father. Then he is your brother and not your brother. Not by the same father, worthy sir, I replied. His father was Chaeredemus, mine Sophroniscus. So Sophroniscus and Chaeredemus, he said, were father?