Soc. 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. Soc. 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 ? Soc. Certainly, I said: the former mine, 

 the latter his. 
						
 Then surely, he went on, Chaeredemus was other than father ? 

 Than mine, at any rate, I said.

 Why then, he was father while being other than father. Or are you the same as the stone ? Cf. Plat. Gorg. 494a , where the life of a stone is given as a proverbial example of a life without pleasure or pain. 

 I fear you may prove that of me, I said, though I do not feel like it.

 Then are you other than the stone? 

 Other, I must say.

 Then of course, he went on, if you are other than stone, you are not stone? And if you are other than gold, you are not gold? 

 Quite so.

 Hence Chaeredemus, he said, being other than father, cannot be father. 

 It seems, I said, that he is not a father.

 No, for I presume, interposed Euthydemus, that if Chaeredemus is a father Sophroniscus in his turn, being other than a father, is not a father; so that you, Socrates, are fatherless. 

 Here Ctesippus took it up, observing: And your father too, is he not in just the same plight? Is he other than my father? 

 Not in the slightest , said Euthydemus.

 What, asked the other, is he the same? 

 The same, to be sure. 

 I should not like to think he was: but tell me, Euthydemus, is he my father only, or everybody else’s too? 

 Everybody else’s too, he replied; or do you suppose that the same man, being a father, can be no father? 

 I did suppose so, said Ctesippus.

 Well, said the other, and that a thing being gold could be not gold? Or being a man, not man? 

 Perhaps, Euthydemus, said Ctesippus, you are knotting flax with cotton, i.e. treating two different things as the same. as they say: for it is a strange result that you state, if your father is father of all. 

 He is, though, was the reply.

 Of all men, do you mean? asked Ctesippus, or of horses too, and all other animals? 

 Of all, he said.

 And is your mother a mother in the same way? 

 My mother too. 

 And is your mother a mother of sea-urchins? 

 Yes, and yours is also, he replied.

 So then you are a brother of the gudgeons and whelps and porkers. 

 Yes, and so are you, he said.

 Then your father is a boar and a dog. 

 And so is yours, he said.

 Yes, said Dionysodorus, and it will take you but a moment, if you will answer me, Ctesippus, to acknowledge all this. Just tell me, have you a dog? 

 Yes, a real rogue, said Ctesippus. 
						
 Has he got puppies? 

 Yes, a set of rogues like him. 

 Then is the dog their father? 

 Yes, indeed; I saw him with my own eyes covering the bitch. 

 Well now, is not the dog yours? 

 Certainly, he said.

 Thus he is a father, and yours, and accordingly the dog turns out to be your father, and you a brother of whelps. 

 Hereupon Dionysodorus struck in again quickly, lest Ctesippus should get a word in before him: Answer me just one more little point: do you beat this dog? 

 Ctesippus laughed and said: My word, yes; since I cannot beat you! 

 So you beat your own father? 

 he said. Soc. There would be much more justice, though, he replied, in my beating yours, for being so ill-advised as to beget clever sons like you. Yet I doubt, Ctesippus went on, if your father, Euthydemus—the puppies’ father—has derived much good from this wisdom of yours. 

 Why, he has no need of much good, Ctesippus, neither he nor you. 

 And have you no need either, yourself, Euthydemus? he asked.

 No, nor has any other man. Just tell me, Ctesippus, whether you think it good for a sick man to drink physic when he wants it, or whether you consider it not good; or for a man to go to the wars with arms rather than without them. 

 With them, I think, he replied: and yet I believe you are about to utter one of your pleasantries. 

 You will gather that well enough, he said: only answer me. Since you admit that physic is good for a man to drink when necessary, surely one ought to drink this good thing as much as possible; and in such a case it will be well to pound and infuse in it a cart-load of hellebore? 

 To this Ctesippus replied: Quite so, to be sure, Euthydemus, at any rate if the drinker is as big as the Delphian statue. 

 Then, further, since in war, he proceeded, it is good to have arms, one ought to have as many spears and shields as possible, if we agree that it is a good thing? 

 Yes, I suppose, said Ctesippus; and you, Euthydemus, do you take the other view, that it should be one shield and one spear? 

 Yes, I do. 

 What, he said, and would you arm Geryon also and Briareus Two fabulous giants (Geryon had three, Briareus fifty, pairs of arms). in this way? I thought you more of an expert than that, considering you are a man-at-arms, and your comrade here too! 

 At this Euthydemus was silent; then Dionysodorus asked some questions on Ctesippus’ previous answers, saying: Well now, gold is in your opinion a good thing to have? 

 Certainly, and—here I agree—plenty of it too, said Ctesippus.

 Well then, do you not think it right to have good things always and everywhere? 

 Assuredly, he said.

 Then do you admit that gold is also a good? 

 Why, I have admitted it, he replied.

 Then we ought always to have it, and everywhere, and above all, in oneself? And one will be happiest if one has three talents of gold in one’s belly, a talent in one’s skull, and a stater of gold in each eye? 

 Well, Euthydemus, replied Ctesippus, they say that among the Scythians those are the happiest and best men who have a lot of gold in their own skulls—somewhat as you were saying a moment ago that dog is father ; and a still more marvellous thing is told, how they drink out of their skulls when gilded, and gaze inside them, holding their own headpiece in their hands. Soc. Tell me, said Euthydemus, 

 do the Scythians and men in general see things possible of sight, or things impossible? 

 Possible, I presume. 

 And you do so too? 

 I too. 

 Then you see our cloaks? 

 Yes. 

 And have they power of sight? The quibble is on the double meaning of δυνατὰ ὁρᾶν —(a) possible, and (b) able to see. So in what follows, σιγῶντα λέγειν may mean both the speaking of a silent person, or speaking of silent things. 

 Quite extraordinarily, said Ctesippus.

 What do they see? he asked.

 Nothing. Perhaps you do not think they see—you are such a sweet innocent. I should say, Euthydemus, that you have fallen asleep with your eyes open and, if it be possible to speak and at the same time say nothing, that this is what you are doing. 

 Why, asked Dionysodorus, may there not be a speaking of the silent? 

 By no means whatever, replied Ctesippus.

 Nor a silence of speaking? 

 Still less, he said.

 Now, when you speak of stones and timbers and irons, are you not speaking of the silent? 

 Not if I walk by a smithy, for there, as they say, the irons speak and cry aloud, when they are touched; so here your wisdom has seduced you into nonsense. But come, you have still to propound me your second point, how on the other hand there may be a silence of speaking. (It struck me that Ctesippus was specially excited on account of his young friend’s presence.)

 When you are silent, said Euthydemus, are you not making a silence of all things? 

 Yes, he replied.

 Then it is a silence of speaking things also, if the speaking are among all things. 

 What, said Ctesippus, are not all things silent? 

 I presume not, said Euthydemus.

 But then, my good sir, do all things speak? 

 Yes, I suppose, at least those that speak. 

 But that is not what I ask, he said: are all things silent or do they speak? 

 Neither and both, said Dionysodorus, snatching the word from him: I am quite sure that is an answer that will baffle you! 

 At this Ctesippus, as his manner was, gave a mighty guffaw, and said: Ah, Euthydemus, your brother has made the argument ambiguous with his both, and is worsted and done for. 

 Then Cleinias was greatly delighted and laughed, so that Ctesippus felt his strength was as the strength of ten: but I fancy Ctesippus—he is such a rogue—had picked up these very words by overhearing the men themselves, since in nobody else of the present age is such wisdom to be found. So I remarked: Why are you laughing, Cleinias, at such serious and beautiful things?

 What, have you, Socrates, ever yet seen a beautiful thing? asked Dionysodorus.

 Yes, I have, I replied, and many of them, Dionysodorus.