Hence I should never reproach you, Pittacus, if you would only speak what is moderately reasonable and true. But as it is, since you lie so grievously about the greatest matters with an air of speaking the truth, on this score I reproach you.Such is my view, Prodicus and Protagoras, I said, of Simonides’ intention in composing this ode. Then Hippias remarked: It certainly seems to me, Socrates, that you have given a good exposition of the poem: but I also have an elegant discourse upon it, which I will perform for you if you wish. Yes, Hippias, said Alcibiades, but some other time: for the moment the proper thing, according to the agreement which Protagoras and Socrates made between them, will be for Socrates to answer any questions that Protagoras may still wish to put to him, but if he prefers to answer Socrates, then it will be for Socrates to ask. On this I remarked: For my part I place it in Protagoras’s hands to do whichever he likes best. But if he does not mind, let us talk no more of poems and verses, but consider the points on which I questioned you at first, Protagoras, and on which I should be glad to reach, with your help, a conclusion. For it seems to me that arguing about poetry is comparable to the wine-parties of common market-folk. These people, owing to their inability to carry on a familiar conversation over their wine by means of their own voices and discussions— such is their lack of education—put a premium on flute-girls by hiring the extraneous voice of the flute at a high price, and carry on their intercourse by means of its utterance. But where the party consists of thorough gentlemen who have had a proper education, you will see neither flute-girls nor dancing-girls nor harp-girls, but only the company contenting themselves with their own conversation, and none of these fooleries and frolics—each speaking and listening decently in his turn, even though they may drink a great deal of wine. And so a gathering like this of ours, when it includes such men as most of us claim to be, requires no extraneous voices, not even of the poets, whom one cannot question on the sense of what they say; when they are adduced in discussion we are generally told by some that the poet thought so and so, and by others, something different, and they go on arguing about a matter which they are powerless to determine.

No, this sort of meeting is avoided by men of culture, who prefer to converse directly with each other, and to use their own way of speech in putting one another by turns to the test. It is this sort of person that I think you and I ought rather to imitate; putting the poets aside, let us hold our discussion together in our own persons, making trial of the truth and of ourselves. So if you wish to question me further, I am at your service as answerer; but if you like, put yourself at my service, so that we may clear up the several points of the inquiry in which we stopped half-way. On my saying this and something more of the sort, Protagoras gave no indication as to which course he would take. So Alcibiades, looking at Callias, said: Do you consider, Callias, that Protagoras is behaving properly now in refusing to signify whether he will or will not answer? I do not think he is. Let him either debate or say that he does not want to debate, so that we may have this understanding with him; then Socrates can debate with someone else, or another of us with some other, as may be agreed. Then Protagoras was ashamed, as it seemed to me, at these words of Alcibiades, and the more so when Callias requested him, together with almost the whole of the company; and so he reluctantly prevailed on himself to take up the debate, and asked to have questions put to him, since he was ready to answer. So I proceeded to say—Protagoras, do not suppose that I have any other desire in debating with you than to examine the difficulties which occur to myself at each point. For I hold that there is a good deal in what Homer says— When two go together, one observes before the other; Hom. Il. 10.224. for somehow it makes all of us human beings more resourceful in every deed or word or thought; but if one observes something alone, forthwith one has to go about searching until one discovers somebody to whom one can show it off and who can corroborate it. And I also have my reason for being glad to debate with you rather than with anyone else; it is that I regard you as the best person to investigate in general any matters that a sensible man may be expected to examine, and virtue in particular. Whom else should I choose but you? Not only do you consider yourself a worthy gentleman, like sundry other people, who are sensible enough themselves, but cannot make others so;

but you are both good yourself and have the gift of making others good. And you are so confident of yourself that, while others make a secret of this art, you have had yourself publicly proclaimed to all the Greeks with the title of sophist, and have appointed yourself preceptor of culture and virtue, and are the first who has ever demanded a regular fee for such work. What then could I do but call upon you to deal with our problem both by question and communication? I had no other course. So now with regard to those points which I have raised on the subject in my opening questions, I desire to be reminded of some by you and to have your help in investigating others. The question, I believe, was this:cf. Plat. Prot. 329c ff. Are the five names of wisdom, temperance, courage, justice, and holiness attached to one thing, or underlying each of these names is there a distinct existence or thing that has its own particular function, each thing being different from the others? And your answer was that they are not names attached to one thing, but that each of these names applies to a distinct thing, and that all these are parts of virtue; not like the parts of gold, which are similar to each other and to the whole of which they are parts, but like the parts of the face, dissimilar to the whole of which they are parts and to each other, and each having a distinct function. If you still hold the same opinion of them, say so; if you have a new one, define what it is, for I make no objection to your replying now on other lines. Indeed I should not be surprised if you were merely experimenting upon me when you spoke before. Well, Socrates, he replied, I say that all these are parts of virtue, and that while four of them are fairly on a par with each other, courage is something vastly different from all the rest. You may perceive the truth of what I say from this: you will find many people extremely unjust, unholy, dissolute, and ignorant, and yet pre-eminently courageous. Stop now, I said: we must duly examine what you say. Do you call courageous men bold, or something else? Yes, and impetuous also, he replied, where most men fear to tread. Well now, do you say that virtue is a good thing, and of this good thing offer yourself as teacher? Nay, it is the best of things, he said, unless I am out of my senses. Then is one part of it base and another good, or is the whole good? Surely the whole is good in the highest possible degree.

Now do you know who dive boldly into wells? I do; divers. Is this because they have knowledge, or for some other reason? Because they have knowledge. And who are bold in going to war on horseback—those who are practised horsemen, or those who are not? Practised horsemen. And who with bucklers—buckler-men, or those who are not? Buckler-men: and so with all other cases, he went on, if that is your point; those who have knowledge are bolder than those who lack it, and individually they are bolder when they have learnt than before learning. But you must have seen at times, I said, persons who are without knowledge of any of these affairs, yet behaving boldly in each of them. I have, he said, and very boldly too. Then are these bold ones courageous also? Nay, that would make courage a base thing, he replied; for those you speak of are out of their senses. What then, I asked, do you mean by courageous men? Surely the same as bold men? Yes, I do still, he said. Then these men, I went on, who are so brave, are found to be not courageous but mad? And in those former cases our wisest men are boldest too, and being boldest are most courageous? And on this reasoning, wisdom will be courage? You do not rightly recall, Socrates, what I stated in replying to you. When you asked me whether courageous men are bold, I admitted it: I was not asked whether bold men are courageous. Had you asked me this before, I should have said—Not all. And as to proving that courageous men are not bold, you have nowhere pointed out that I was wrong in my admission that they are. Next you show that such persons individually are bolder when they have knowledge, and bolder than others who lack it, and therewith you take courage and wisdom to be the same: proceeding in this manner you might even take strength to be wisdom. On this method you might begin by asking me whether the strong are powerful, and I should say Yes; and then, whether those who know how to wrestle are more powerful than those who do not know how to wrestle, and whether individually they are more powerful when they have learnt than before learning, and I should say Yes. And on my admitting these points it would be open to you to say, by the same token, that according to my admission wisdom is strength.