What are they? Tell me. In the same way as I can tell you of other figures, if you request me, so do you tell me of other virtues.

Well then, courage, I consider, is a virtue, and temperance, and wisdom, and loftiness of mind; and there are a great many others.

Once more, Meno, we are in the same plight: again we have found a number of virtues when we were looking for one, though not in the same way as we did just now; but the one that runs through them all, this we are not able to find.

No, for I am not yet able, Socrates, to follow your line of search, and find a single virtue common to all, as one can in other cases.

And no wonder; but I will make an effort, so far as I can, to help us onward. You understand, of course, that this principle of mine applies to everything: if someone asked you the question I put to you just now: What is figure, Meno? and you replied: Roundness; and then he said, as I did: Is roundness figure or a figure? I suppose you would answer: A figure.

Certainly.

And for this reason—that there are other figures as well?

Yes.

And if he went on to ask you of what sort they were, you would tell him?

I would.

And if he asked likewise what color is, and on your answering “white” your questioner then rejoined: Is “white” color or a color? your reply would be: A color; because there are other colors besides.

It would.

And if he bade you mention other colors, 74d you would tell him of others that are colors just as much as white?

Yes.

Now suppose that, like me, he pursued the argument and said: We are always arriving at a variety of things, but let me have no more of that: since you call these many things by one single name, and say they are figures, every one of them, even when they are opposed to one another, tell me what is that which comprises round and straight alike, and which you call figure— 74e including straight equally with round under that term. For that is your statement, is it not?

It is.

And in making it, do you mean to say that round is no more round than straight, or straight no more straight than round?

No, to be sure, Socrates.

What you mean is that the round shape is no more a figure than the straight, or the straight than the round.

Quite right.

Then what can this thing be, which bears the name of figure? Try and tell me. Suppose that, on being asked this question by someone, 75a either about figure or about color, you had replied: Why, I don’t so much as understand what you want, sir, or even know what you are saying: he might well have shown surprise, and said: Do you not understand that I am looking for that which is the same common element in all these things? Or would you still be unable to reply, Meno, if you were approached on other terms, and were asked: What is it that is common to the round and the straight and everything else that you call figures—the same in all? Try and tell me it will be good practice for your answer about virtue.

No, it is you who must answer, Socrates.

You wish me to do you the favour?

By all means.

And then you will agree to take your turn and answer me on virtue?

I will.

Well then, I must make the effort, for it is worth our while.

Certainly.

Come now, let me try and tell you what figure is. Just consider if you accept this description of it: figure, let us say, is the only existing thing that is found always following color. Are you satisfied, or are you looking for something different? I am sure I should be content with a similar account of virtue from you.

But it is such a silly one, Socrates.

How do you mean?

Well, figure, as I understand by your account, is what always follows color. Very good; but if some one said he did not know color, and was in the same difficulty about it as about figure, what answer do you suppose would have come from you?

The truth, from me; and if my questioner were a professor of the eristic and contentious sort, I should say to him: 75d I have made my statement; if it is wrong, your business is to examine and refute it. But if, like you and me on this occasion, we were friends and chose to have a discussion together, I should have to reply in some milder tone more suited to dialectic. The more dialectical way, I suppose, is not merely to answer what is true, but also to make use of those points which the questioned person acknowledges he knows. And this is the way in which I shall now try to argue with you. Tell me, is there something you call an end? Such a thing, I mean, 75e as a limit, or extremity—I use all these terms in the same sense, though I daresay Prodicus¹ might quarrel with us. But you, I am sure, refer to a thing as terminated or ended: something of that sort is what I mean—nothing complicated.

Yes, I do, and I think I grasp your meaning.

Well then, you speak of a surface, and also of a solid—the terms employed in geometrical problems?

I do.

So now you are able to comprehend from all this what I mean by figure. In every instance of figure I call that figure in which the solid ends; and I may put that more succinctly by saying that figure is “limit of solid.”

And what do you say of color, Socrates?

How overbearing of you, Meno, to press an old man with demands for answers, when you will not trouble yourself 76b to recollect and tell me what account Gorgias gives of virtue!

When you have answered my question, Socrates, I will answer yours.

One might tell even blindfolded, Meno, by the way you discuss, that you are handsome and still have lovers.

Why so?

Because you invariably speak in a peremptory tone, after the fashion of spoilt beauties, holding as they do a despotic power so long as their bloom is on them. You have also, I daresay, 76c made a note of my weakness for handsome people. So I will indulge you, and answer.

You must certainly indulge me.

Then would you like me to answer you in the manner of Gorgias,² which you would find easiest to follow?

I should like that, of course.

Do not both of you say there are certain effluences³ of existent things, as Empedocles held?

Certainly.

And passages into which and through which the effluences pass?

To be sure.

And some of the effluences fit into various passages, 76d while some are too small or too large?

That is so.

And further, there is what you call sight?

Yes.

So now conceive my meaning, as Pindar ⁴ says: color is an effluence of figures, commensurate with sight and sensible.

Your answer, Socrates, seems to me excellently put.

Yes, for I expect you find its terms familiar; and at the same time I fancy you observe that it enables you to tell what sound and smell are, and numerous other 76e things of the kind.

Certainly.

It is an answer in the high poetic style, Meno, and so more agreeable to you than that about figure.

Yes, it is.

But yet, son of Alexidemus, I am inclined to think the other was the better of the two; and I believe you also would prefer it, if you were not compelled, as you were saying yesterday, to go away before the mysteries, and could stay awhile and be initiated.

But I should stay, Socrates, if you would give me many such answers.

Well then, I will spare no endeavor, both for your sake and for my own, to continue in that style; but I fear I may not succeed in keeping for long on that level. But come now, you in your turn must try and fulfil your promise by telling me what virtue is in a general way; and you must stop producing a plural from the singular, as the wags say whenever one breaks something, but leave virtue 77b whole and sound, and tell me what it is. The pattern you have now got from me.

Well, in my view, Socrates, virtue is, in the poet’s words, to rejoice in things honorable and be able for them ⁵; and that, I say, is virtue—to desire what is honorable and be able to procure it.

Do you say that he who desires the honorable is desirous of the good?

Certainly.

Implying that there are some who desire the evil, and others the good? Do not all men, 77c in your opinion, my dear sir, desire the good?

I think not.

There are some who desire the evil?

Yes.

Thinking the evil to be good, do you mean, or actually recognizing it to be evil, and desiring it nevertheless?

Both, I believe.

Do you really believe, Meno, that a man knows the evil to be evil, and still desires it?

Certainly.

What do you mean by “desires”? Desires the possession of it?

Yes; what else could it be?

And does he think the evil benefits him who gets it, or does he know that it harms him who has it?

There are some who think the evil is a benefit, and others who know that it does harm.

And, in your opinion, do those who think the evil a benefit know that it is evil?

I do not think that at all.

Obviously those who are ignorant of the evil do not desire it, but only what they supposed 77e to be good, though it is really evil; so that those who are ignorant of it and think it good are really desiring the good. Is not that so?

It would seem to be so in their case.

Well now, I presume those who, as you say, desire the evil, and consider that the evil harms him who gets it, know that they will be harmed by it?