What, is it I who am leading it there, noble sir, or the person who says outright that those who enjoy themselves, 495awith whatever kind of enjoyment, are happy, and draws no distinction between the good and bad sorts of pleasure? But come, try again now and tell me whether you say that pleasant and good are the same thing, or that there is some pleasure which is not good.

Then, so that my statement may not be inconsistent through my saying they are different, I say they are the same.

You are spoiling your first statements,¹ Callicles, and you can no longer be a fit partner with me in probing the truth, if you are going to speak against your own convictions.

Why, you do the same, Socrates.

Then I am just as much in the wrong if I do, as you are. But look here, my gifted friend, perhaps the good is not mere unconditional enjoyment: for if it is, we have to face not only that string of shameful consequences I have just shadowed forth, but many more besides.

In your opinion, that is, Socrates.

And do you, Callicles, really maintain that it is?

I do.

Then are we to set about discussing it as your serious view?

Oh yes, to be sure.

Come then, since that is your opinion, resolve me this: there is something, I suppose, that you call knowledge?

Yes.

And were you not saying just now that knowledge can have a certain courage coupled with it?

Yes, I was.

And you surely meant that they were two things, courage being distinct from knowledge?

Quite so.

Well now, are pleasure and knowledge the same thing, or different?

Different, I presume, O sage of sages.

And courage too, is that different from pleasure?

Of course it is.

Come now, let us be sure to remember this, that Callicles the Acharnian said pleasant and good were the same, but knowledge and courage were different both from each other and from the good.

And Socrates of Alopece refuses to grant us this; or does he grant it?

He does not; nor, I believe, will Callicles either, when he has rightly considered himself. For tell me, do you not regard people who are well off as being in the opposite condition to those who are badly off?

I do.

Then if these conditions are opposite to each other, must not the same hold of them as of health and disease? For, you know, a man is never well and ill at the same time, nor gets rid of health and disease together.

How do you mean?

Take, for instance, any part of the body you like by itself, and consider it. A man, I suppose, may have a disease of the eyes, called ophthalmia?

Certainly.

Then I presume he is not sound also at that time in those same eyes?

By no conceivable means.

And what say you, when he gets rid of his ophthalmia? Does he at that time get rid too of the health of his eyes, and so at last is rid of both things together?

Far from it.

Because, I imagine, this would be an astonishing and irrational result, would it not?

Very much so.

Whereas, I take it, he gets and loses either turn?

I agree.

And so with strength and weakness in just the same way?

Yes.

And speed and slowness?

Certainly.

And so too with good things and happiness and their opposites—bad things and wretchedness—does one take on each of these in turn, and in turn put it off?

Absolutely, I presume.

Then if we find any things that a man puts off and retains at one and the same moment, clearly these cannot be the good and the bad. Do we admit this? Now consider very carefully before you answer.

Oh, I admit it down to the ground.

So now for our former admissions: did you say that being hungry was pleasant or painful? I mean, hunger itself.

Painful, I said; though eating when one is hungry I call pleasant.

I see: but at all events hunger itself is painful, is it not?

I agree.

And so too with thirst?

Quite so.

Then am I to ask you any further questions, or do you admit that all want and desire is painful?

I admit it; no, do not question me further.

Very good: but drinking when one is thirsty you surely say is pleasant?

I do.

Now, in this phrase of yours the words “when one is thirsty,” I take it, stand for “when one is in pain”?

Yes.

But drinking is a satisfaction of the want, and a pleasure?

Yes.

So in the act of drinking, you say, one has enjoyment?

Quite so.

When one is thirsty?

I agree.

That is, in pain?

Yes.

Then do you perceive the conclusion,—that you say one enjoys oneself, though in pain at the same moment, when you say one drinks when one is thirsty? Or does this not occur at once, at the same place and time—in either soul or body, as you please? For I fancy it makes no difference. Is this so or not?

It is.

But further, you say it is impossible to be badly off, or to fare ill, at the same time as one is faring well.

Yes, I do.

But to enjoy oneself when feeling pain you have admitted to be possible.

Apparently.

Hence enjoyment is not faring well, nor is feeling pain faring ill, so that the pleasant is found to be different from the good.

I cannot follow these subtleties of yours, Socrates.

You can, but you play the innocent, Callicles. Just go on a little further, 497b that you may realize how subtle is your way of reproving me. Does not each of us cease at the same moment from thirst and from the pleasure he gets by drinking?

I cannot tell what you mean.

No, no, Callicles, you must answer him, for our sakes also, that the arguments may be brought to a conclusion.

But Socrates is always like this, Gorgias he keeps on asking petty, unimportant questions until he refutes one.

Why, what does that matter to you? In any case it is not your credit that is at stake, Callicles; just permit Socrates to refute you in such manner as he chooses.

Well then, proceed with those little cramped questions of yours, since Gorgias is so minded.

You are fortunate, Callicles, in having been initiated into the Great Mysteries before the Little:² I did not think that was the proper thing. So go on answering where you left off—as to whether each of us does not cease to feel thirst and pleasure at the same time.

I grant it.

And so, with hunger and the rest, does he cease to feel the desires and pleasures at the same time?

That is so.

And also ceases to feel the pains and pleasures at the same time?

Yes.

But still he does not cease to have the good and bad at the same time, as you agreed; and now, you do not agree?

I do; and what then?

Only that we get the result, my friend, that the good things are not the same as the pleasant, nor the bad as the painful. For with the one pair the cessation is of both at once, but with the other two it is not, since they are distinct. How then can pleasant things be the same as good, or painful things as bad? Or if you like, consider it another way—for I fancy that even after that you do not admit it. Just observe: do you not call good people good owing to the presence of good things, 497e as you call beautiful those in whom beauty is present?

I do.

Well now, do you give the name of good men to fools and cowards? It was not they just now but brave and wise men whom you so described. Or is it not these that you call good?

To be sure it is.

And now, have you ever seen a silly child enjoying itself?

I have.

And have you never seen a silly man enjoying himself?

I should think I have; but what has that to do with it?

Nothing; only answer.

I have seen one.

And again, a man of sense in a state of pain or enjoyment?

Yes.

And which sort are more apt to feel enjoyment or pain, the wise or the foolish?

I should think there is not much difference.

Well, that will suffice. In war have you ever seen a coward?

Of course I have.

Well now, when the enemy withdrew, which seemed to you to enjoy it more, the cowards or the brave?

Both did, I thought; or if not that, about equally.

No matter. Anyhow, the cowards do enjoy it?

Very much.

And the fools, it would seem.

Yes.

And when the foe advances, do the cowards alone feel pain, or the brave as well?

Both.

Alike?

More, perhaps, the cowards.

And when the foe withdraws, do they not enjoy it more?

Perhaps.

So the foolish and the wise, and the cowardly and the brave, 498c feel pain and enjoyment about equally, according to you, but the cowardly more than the brave?

I agree.

But further, are the wise and brave good, and the cowards and fools bad?

Yes.

Then the good and the bad feel enjoyment and pain about equally?

I agree.

Then are the good and the bad about equally good and bad? Or are the bad in some yet greater measure good and bad?

Why, upon my word, I cannot tell what you mean.

You are aware, are you not, that you hold that the good are good by the presence of good things, and that the bad are so by the presence of bad things? And that the pleasures are the good things, and the pains bad things?

Yes, I am.

Hence in those who have enjoyment the good things—the pleasures—are present, so long as they enjoy?

Of course.

Then, good things being present, those who enjoy are good?

Yes.

Well now, in those who feel pain are not bad things present, namely pains?

They are. 498e

And it is by the presence of bad things, you say, that the bad are bad? Or do you no longer say so?

I do say so.

Then whoever enjoys is good, and whoever is pained, bad?

Certainly.

You mean, those more so who feel these things more, and those less who feel less, and those about equally who feel about equally?

Yes.

Now you say that the wise and the foolish, the cowardly and the brave, feel enjoyment and pain about equally, or the cowards even more?

I do.