Then just help me to reckon up the results we get from our admissions for you know they say: That which seemeth well, ’tis well twice and also thrice to tell,¹ and to examine too. 499aWe say that the wise and brave man is good, do we not?

Yes.

And that the foolish and cowardly is bad?

Certainly.

And again, that he who enjoys is good?

Yes.

And that he who feels pain is bad?

Necessarily.

And that the good and the bad feel enjoyment and pain in a like manner, or perhaps the bad rather more?

Yes.

Then is the bad man made bad or good in a like manner to the good man, 499b or even good in a greater measure? Does not this follow, along with those former statements, from the assumption that pleasant things and good things are the same? Must not this be so, Callicles?

Let me tell you, Socrates, all the time that I have been listening to you and yielding you agreement, I have been remarking the puerile delight with which you cling to any concession one may make to you, even in jest. So you suppose that I or anybody else in the world does not regard some pleasures as better, and others worse!

Oh ho, Callicles, what a rascal you are, 499ctreating me thus like a child—now asserting that the same things are one way, now another, to deceive me! And yet I started with the notion that I should not have to fear any intentional deception on your part, you being my friend; but now I find I was mistaken, and it seems I must, as the old saying goes, e’en make the best of what I have got,² and accept just anything you offer. Well then, what you now state, it seems, is that there are certain pleasures, some good, and some bad; is not that so?

Yes.

Then are the beneficial ones good, and the harmful ones bad?

Certainly.

And are those beneficial which do some good, and those evil which do some evil?

I agree.

Now are these the sort you mean—for instance, in the body, the pleasures of eating and drinking that we mentioned a moment ago? Then the pleasures of this sort which produce health in the body, or strength, or any other bodily excellence,—are these good, and those which have the opposite effects, bad?

Certainly.

And similarly in the case of pains, are some worthy and some base?

Of course.

So it is the worthy pleasures and pains that we ought to choose in all our doings?

Certainly.

And the base ones not?

Clearly so.

Because, you know, Polus and I, if you recollect, decided³. that everything we do should be for the sake of what is good. Do you agree with us in this view—that the good is the end of all our actions, and it is for its sake that all other things should be done, and not it for theirs? 500aDo you add your vote to ours, and make a third?

I do.

Then it is for the sake of what is good that we should do everything, including what is pleasant, not the good for the sake of the pleasant.

Certainly.

Now is it in every man’s power to pick out which sort of pleasant things are good and which bad, or is professional skill required in each case?

Professional skill.

Then let us recall those former points I was putting to Polus and Gorgias.⁴ I said, if you remember, 500b that there were certain industries, some of which extend only to pleasure, procuring that and no more, and ignorant of better and worse; while others know what is good and what bad. And I placed among those that are concerned with pleasure the habitude, not art, of cookery, and among those concerned with good the art of medicine. Now by the sanctity of friendship, Callicles, do not on your part indulge in jesting with me, or give me random answers against your conviction, or again, take what I say as though I were jesting. For you see 500c that our debate is upon a question which has the highest conceivable claims to the serious interest even of a person who has but little intelligence—namely, what course of life is best; whether it should be that to which you invite me, with all those manly pursuits of speaking in Assembly and practicing rhetoric and going in for politics after the fashion of you modern politicians, or this life of philosophy; and what makes the difference between these two. Well, perhaps it is best 500d to do what I attempted a while ago, and distinguish them; and then, when we have distinguished them and come to an agreement with each other as to these lives being really two, we must consider what is the difference between them and which of them is the one we ought to live. Now I daresay you do not yet grasp my meaning.

No, I do not.

Well, I will put it to you more plainly. Seeing that we have agreed, you and I, that there is such a thing as “good,” and such a thing as “pleasant,” and that the pleasant is other than the good, and that for the acquisition of either there is a certain practice or preparation—the quest of the pleasant in the one case, and that of the good in the other—but first you must either assent or object to this statement of mine: 500e do you assent?

I am with you entirely.

Then try and come to a definite agreement with me on what I was saying to our friends here, and see if you now find that what I then said was true. I was saying, I think, that cookery seems to me 501anot an art but a habitude, unlike medicine, which, I argued, has investigated the nature of the person whom she treats and the cause of her proceedings, and has some account to give of each of these things; so much for medicine: whereas the other, in respect of the pleasure to which her whole ministration is given, goes to work there in an utterly inartistic manner, without having investigated at all either the nature or the cause of pleasure, and altogether irrationally—with no thought, one may say, of differentiation, relying on routine and habitude for merely preserving a memory of what is wont to result; and that is how she is enabled to provide her pleasures. 501b Now consider first whether you think that this account is satisfactory, and that there are certain other such occupations likewise, having to do with the soul; some artistic, with forethought for what is to the soul’s best advantage, and others making light of this, but again, as in the former case, considering merely the soul’s pleasure and how it may be contrived for her, neither inquiring which of the pleasures is a better or a worse one, nor caring for aught but mere gratification, 501c whether for better or worse. For I, Callicles, hold that there are such, and for my part I call this sort of thing flattery, whether in relation to the body or to the soul or to anything else, whenever anyone ministers to its pleasure without regard for the better and the worse; and you now, do you support us with the same opinion on this matter, or do you gainsay us?

Not I; I agree with you, in order that your argument may reach a conclusion, and that I may gratify Gorgias here.

And is this the case with only one soul, and not with two or many?

No, it is also the case with two or many.

Then is it possible also to gratify them all at once, collectively, with no consideration of what is best?

I should think it is.

Then can you say what are the pursuits which effect this? Or rather, if you like, when I ask you, and one of them seems to you to be of this class, say yes, and when one does not, say no. And first let us consider flute-playing. Does it not seem to you one of this sort, 501e Callicles, aiming only at our pleasure, and caring for naught else ?

It does seem so to me.

And so too with all similar pursuits, such as harp-playing in the contests?

Yes.

And what of choral productions and dithyrambic compositions? Are they not manifestly, in your view, of the same kind? Or do you suppose Cinesias,⁵ son of Meles, cares a jot about trying to say things of a sort that might be improving to his audience, 502aor only what is likely to gratify the crowd of spectators?

Clearly the latter is the case, Socrates, with Cinesias.

And what of his father Meles? Did he ever strike you as looking to what was best in his minstrelsy? Or did he, perhaps, not even make the pleasantest his aim? For his singing used to be a pain to the audience. But consider now: do you not think that all minstrelsy and composing of dithyrambs have been invented for the sake of pleasure?

I do.

Then what of the purpose that has inspired our stately and wonderful tragic poetry? Are her endeavor and purpose, to your mind, merely for the gratification of the spectators, or does she strive hard, if there be anything pleasant and gratifying, but bad for them, to leave that unsaid, and if there be anything unpleasant, but beneficial, both to speak and sing that, whether they enjoy it or not? To which of these two aims, think you, is tragic poetry devoted ?

It is quite obvious, in her case, Socrates, that 502c she is bent rather upon pleasure and the gratification of the spectators.

Well now, that kind of thing, Callicles, did we say just now, is flattery ?

Certainly.

Pray then, if we strip any kind of poetry of its melody, its rhythm and its meter, we get mere speeches as the residue, do we not?

That must be so.

And those speeches are spoken to a great crowd of people?

Yes.

Hence poetry is a kind of public speaking.

Apparently.

Then it must be a rhetorical public speaking or do you not think that the poets use rhetoric in the theaters?

Yes, I do.

So now we have found a kind of rhetoric addressed to such a public as is compounded of children and women and men, and slaves as well as free; an art that we do not quite approve of, since we call it a flattering one.

To be sure.

Very well; but now, the rhetoric addressed to the Athenian people, 502e or to the other assemblies of freemen in the various cities—what can we make of that? Do the orators strike you as speaking always with a view to what is best, with the single aim of making the citizens as good as possible by their speeches, or are they, like the poets, set on gratifying the citizens, and do they, sacrificing the common weal to their own personal interest, behave to these assemblies as to children, trying merely to gratify them, nor care a jot whether they will be better or worse in consequence?