Socrates Socrates. Dear Phaedrus, whither away, and where do you come from?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. From Lysias, Socrates, the son of Cephalus; and I am going for a walk outside the wall. For I spent a long time there with Lysias, sitting since early morning; and on the advice of your friend and mine, Acumenus, I am taking my walk on the roads; for he says they are less fatiguing 227bthan the streets.

Socrates Socrates. He is right, my friend. Then Lysias, it seems,was in the city?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Yes, at Epicrates’ house, the one that belonged to Morychus, near the Olympieum.

Socrates Socrates. What was your conversation? But it is obvious that Lysias entertained you with his speeches.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. You shall hear, if you have leisure to walk along and listen.

Socrates Socrates. What? Don’t you believe that I consider hearing your conversation with Lysias a greater thing even than business,¹as Pindar says?²

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Lead on, then.

Socrates Socrates. Speak.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Indeed, Socrates, you are just the man to hear it. For the discourse about which we conversed, was in a way, a love-speech. For Lysias has represented one of the beauties being tempted, but not by a lover; this is just the clever thing about it; for he says that favors should be granted rather to the one who is not in love than to the lover.

Socrates Socrates. O noble Lysias! I wish he would write that they should be granted to the poor rather than to the rich, to the old rather than to the young, and so of all the other qualities that I and most of us have; 227dfor truly his discourse would be witty and of general utility. I am so determined to hear you, that I will not leave you, even if you extend your walk to Megara, and, as Herodicus says, go to the wall and back again.³

Phaedrus Phaedrus. What are you saying, my dear Socrates? 228aDo you suppose that I, who am a mere ordinary man, can tell from memory, in a way that is worthy of Lysias, what he, the cleverest writer of our day, composed at his leisure and took a long time for? Far from it; and yet I would rather have that ability than a good sum of money.

Socrates Socrates. O Phaedrus! If I don’t know Phaedrus, I have forgotten myself. But since neither of these things is true, I know very well that when listening to Lysias, he did not hear once only, but often urged him to repeat; and he 228bgladly obeyed. Yet even that was not enough for Phaedrus, but at last he borrowed the book and read what he especially wished, and doing this he sat from early morning. Then, when he grew tired, he went for a walk, with the speech, as I believe, by the Dog, learned by heart, unless it was very long. And he was going outside the wall to practice it. And meeting the man who is sick with the love of discourse, he was glad when he saw him, because he would have someone 228cto share his revel, and told him to lead on. But when the lover of discourse asked him to speak, he feigned coyness, as if he did not yearn to speak; at last, however, even if no one would listen willingly, he was bound to speak whether or no. So, Phaedrus, ask him to do now what he will presently do anyway.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Truly it is best for me to speak as I may; since it is clear that you will not let me go until I speak somehow or other.

Socrates Socrates. You have a very correct idea about me.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Then this is what I will do. Really, Socrates, I have not at all learned the words by heart; but I will repeat the general sense of the whole, the points in which he said the lover was superior to the non-lover, giving them in summary, one after the other, beginning with the first.

Socrates Socrates. Yes, my dear, when you have first shown me what you have in your left hand, under your cloak. For I suspect you have the actual discourse. And if that is the case, 228ebelieve this of me, that I am very fond of you, but when Lysias is here I have not the slightest intention of lending you my ears to practice on. Come now, show it.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Stop. You have robbed me of the hope I had of practicing on you. But where shall we sit and read?

Socrates Socrates. Let us turn aside here and go along the Ilissus; then we can sit down quietly wherever we please.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. I am fortunate, it seems, in being barefoot; you are so always. It is easiest then for us to go along the brook with our feet in the water, and it is not unpleasant, especially at this time of the year and the day.

Socrates Socrates. Lead on then, and look out for a good place where we may sit.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Do you see that very tall plane tree?

Socrates Socrates. What of it?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. There is shade there and a moderate breeze and grass to sit on, or, if we like, to lie down on.

Socrates Socrates. Lead the way.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Tell me, Socrates, is it not from some place along here by the Ilissus that Boreas is said to have carried off Oreithyia?

Socrates Socrates. Yes, that is the story.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Well, is it from here? The streamlet looks very pretty and pure and clear and fit for girls to play by.

Socrates Socrates. No, the place is about two or three furlongs farther down, where you cross over to the precinct of Agra; and there is an altar of Boreas somewhere thereabouts.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. I have never noticed it. But, for Heaven’s sake, Socrates, tell me; do you believe this tale is true?

Socrates Socrates. If I disbelieved, as the wise men do, I should not be extraordinary; then I might give a rational explanation, that a blast of Boreas, the north wind, pushed her off the neighboring rocks as she was playing with Pharmacea, and 229dthat when she had died in this manner she was said to have been carried off by Boreas.⁴ But I, Phaedrus, think such explanations are very pretty in general, but are the inventions of a very clever and laborious and not altogether enviable man, for no other reason than because after this he must explain the forms of the Centaurs, and then that of the Chimaera, and there presses in upon him a whole crowd of such creatures, Gorgons and Pegas, and multitudes 229eof strange, inconceivable, portentous natures. If anyone disbelieves in these, and with a rustic sort of wisdom, undertakes to explain each in accordance with probability, he will need a great deal of leisure.

Socrates. But I have no leisure for them at all; and the reason, my friend, is this: I am not yet able, as the Delphic inscription has it, to know myself; so it seems to me ridiculous, 230awhen I do not yet know that, to investigate irrelevant things. And so I dismiss these matters and accepting the customary belief about them, as I was saying just now, I investigate not these things, but myself, to know whether I am a monster more complicated and more furious than Typhon or a gentler and simpler creature, to whom a divine and quiet lot is given by nature. But, my friend, while we were talking, is not this the tree to which you were leading us?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Yes, this is it.

Socrates Socrates. By Hera, it is a charming resting place. For this plane tree is very spreading and lofty, and the tall and shady willow is very beautiful, and it is in full bloom, so as to make the place most fragrant; then, too, the spring is very pretty as it flows under the plane tree, and its water is very cool, to judge by my foot. And it seems to be a sacred place of some nymphs and of Achelous, judging by 230cthe figurines and statues. Then again, if you please, how lovely and perfectly charming the breeziness of the place is! and it resounds with the shrill summer music of the chorus of cicadas. But the most delightful thing of all is the grass, as it grows on the gentle slope, thick enough to be just right when you lay your head on it. So you have guided the stranger most excellently, dear Phaedrus.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. You are an amazing and most remarkable person. For you really do seem exactly like a stranger who is being guided about, 230dand not like a native. You don’t go away from the city out over the border, and it seems to me you don’t go outside the walls at all.

Socrates Socrates. Forgive me, my dear friend. You see, I am fond of learning. Now the country places and the trees won’t teach me anything, and the people in the city do. But you seem to have found the charm to bring me out. For as people lead hungry animals by shaking in front of them a branch of leaves or some fruit, just so, I think, you, by holding before me discourses in books, 230ewill lead me all over Attica and wherever else you please. So now that I have come here, I intend to lie down, and do you choose the position in which you think you can read most easily, and read.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Hear then.