Socrates Socrates. What? Are you and I to praise the discourse because the author has said what he ought, and not merely because all the expressions are clear and well rounded and finely turned? For if that is expected, I must grant it for your sake, since, because of my stupidity, I did not notice it. 235aI was attending only to the rhetorical manner, and I thought even Lysias himself would not think that satisfactory. It seemed to me, Phaedrus, unless you disagree, that he said the same thing two or three times, as if he did not find it easy to say many things about one subject, or perhaps he did not care about such a detail; and he appeared to me in youthful fashion to be exhibiting his ability to say the same thing in two different ways and in both ways excellently.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Nonsense, Socrates! Why that is the especial merit of the discourse. He has omitted none of the points that belong to the subject, so that nobody could ever speak about it more exhaustively or worthily than he has done.

Socrates Socrates. There I must cease to agree with you; for the wise men and women of old, who have spoken and written about these matters, will rise up to confute me, if, to please you, I assent.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Who are they? and where have you heard anything better than this?

Socrates Socrates. I cannot say, just at this moment; but I certainly must have heard something, either from the lovely Sappho or the wise Anacreon, or perhaps from some prose writers. What ground have I for saying so? Why, my dear friend, I feel that my own bosom is full, and that I could make another speech, different from this and quite as good. Now I am conscious of my own ignorance, and I know very well that I have never invented these things myself, so the only alternative 235dis that I have been filled through the ears, like a pitcher, from the well springs of another; but, again because of my stupidity, I have forgotten how and from whom I heard it.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Most noble Socrates, that is splendid! Don’t tell, even if I beg you, how or from whom you heard it; only do as you say; promise to make another speech better than that in the book and no shorter and quite different. Then I promise, like the nine archons, to set up at Delphi a statue as large as life, 235enot only of myself, but of you also.

Socrates Socrates. You are a darling and truly golden, Phaedrus, if you think I mean that Lysias has failed in every respect and that I can compose a discourse containing nothing that he has said. That, I fancy, could not happen even to the worst writer. For example, to take the subject of his speech, who do you suppose, in arguing that the non-lover ought to be more favored than the lover, 236acould omit praise of the non-lover’s calm sense and blame of the lover’s unreason, which are inevitable arguments, and then say something else instead? No, such arguments, I think, must be allowed and excused; and in these the arrangement, not the invention, is to be praised; but in the case of arguments which are not inevitable and are hard to discover, the invention deserves praise as well as the arrangement.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. I concede your point, for I think what you say is reasonable, So I will make this concession: 236bI will allow you to begin with the premise that the lover is more distraught than the non-lover; and if you speak on the remaining points more copiously and better than Lysias, without saying the same things, your statue of beaten metal shall stand at Olympia beside the offering of the Cypselids.

Socrates Socrates. Have you taken my jest in earnest, Phaedrus, because, to tease you, I laid hands on your beloved, and do you really suppose I am going to try to surpass the rhetoric of Lysias and make a speech more ingenious than his?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Now, my friend, you have given me 236ca fair hold; for you certainly must speak as best you can, lest we be compelled to resort to the comic “you’re another”; be careful and do not force me to say “O Socrates, if I don’t know Socrates, I have forgotten myself,” and “he yearned to speak, but feigned coyness.” Just make up your mind that we are not going away from here until you speak out what you said you had in your breast. We are alone 236din a solitary spot, and I am stronger and younger than you; so, under these circumstances, take my meaning, and speak voluntarily, rather than under compulsion.

Socrates Socrates. But, my dear Phaedrus, I shall make myself ridiculous if I, a mere amateur, try without preparation to speak on the same subject in competition with a master of his art.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Now listen to me. Stop trying to fool me; for I can say something which will force you to speak.

Socrates Socrates. Then pray don’t say it.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Yes, but I will. And my saying shall be an oath. I swear to you by— 236eby what god? By this plane tree? I take my solemn oath that unless you produce the discourse in the very presence of this plane tree, I will never read you another or tell you of another.

Socrates Socrates. Oh! Oh! You wretch! How well you found out how to make a lover of discourse do your will!

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Then why do you try to get out of it?

Socrates Socrates. I won’t any more, since you have taken this oath; for how could I give up such pleasures?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Speak then.

Socrates Socrates. Do you know what I’m going to do?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. About what?

Socrates Socrates. I’m going to keep my head wrapped up while I talk, that I may get through my discourse as quickly as possible and that I may not look at you and become embarrassed.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Only speak, and in other matters suit yourself.

Socrates Socrates. Come then, O tuneful Muses, whether ye receive this name from the quality of your song or from the musical race of the Ligyans, grant me your aid in the tale this most excellent man compels me to relate, 237bthat his friend whom he has hitherto considered wise, may seem to him wiser still. Now there was once upon a time a boy, or rather a stripling, of great beauty: and he had many lovers. And among these was one of peculiar craftiness, who was as much in love with the boy as anyone, but had made him believe that he was not in love; and once in wooing him, he tried to persuade him of this very thing, that favors ought to be granted rather to the non-lover than to the lover; and his words were as follows:— There is only one way, dear boy, for those to begin who 237care to take counsel wisely about anything. One must know what the counsel is about, or it is sure to be utterly futile, but most people are ignorant of the fact that they do not know the nature of things. So, supposing that they do know it, they come to no agreement in the beginning of their enquiry, and as they go on they reach the natural result,—they agree neither with themselves nor with each other. Now you and I must not fall into the error which we condemn in others, but, since we are to discuss the question, whether the lover or the non-lover is to be preferred let us first agree on a definition of love, its nature and its power, 237dand then, keeping this definition in view and making constant reference to it, let us enquire whether love brings advantage or harm. Now everyone sees that love is a desire; and we know too that non-lovers also desire the beautiful. How then are we to distinguish the lover from the non-lover? We must observe that in each one of us there are two ruling and leading principles, which we follow whithersoever they lead; one is the innate desire for pleasures, the other an acquired opinion 237ewhich strives for the best. These two sometimes agree within us and are sometimes in strife; and sometimes one, and sometimes the other has the greater power.

Socrates. Now when opinion leads through reason toward the best and is more powerful, 238aits power is called self-restraint, but when desire irrationally drags us toward pleasures and rules within us, its rule is called excess. Now excess has many names, for it has many members and many forms; and whichever of these forms is most marked gives its own name, neither beautiful nor honorable, to him who possesses it. For example, if the desire for food prevails over the higher reason 238band the other desires, it is called gluttony, and he who possesses it will be called by the corresponding name of glutton, and again, if the desire for drink becomes the tyrant and leads him who possesses it toward drink, we know what he is called; and it is quite clear what fitting names of the same sort will be given when any desire akin to these acquires the rule. The reason for what I have said hitherto is pretty clear by this time, but everything is plainer when spoken than when unspoken; so I say that the desire which overcomes the rational opinion 238cthat strives toward the right, and which is led away toward the enjoyment of beauty and again is strongly forced by the desires that are kindred to itself toward personal beauty, when it gains the victory, takes its name from that very force, and is called love.¹ Well, my dear Phaedrus, does it seem to you, as it does to me, that I am inspired?

Phaedrus Phaedrus. Certainly, Socrates, you have an unusual fluency.

Socrates Socrates. Then listen to me in silence; for truly 238dthe place seems filled with a divine presence; so do not be surprised if I often seem to be in a frenzy as my discourse progresses, for I am already almost uttering dithyrambics.

Phaedrus Phaedrus. That is very true.

Socrates Socrates. You are responsible for that; but hear what follows; for perhaps the attack may be averted. That, however, is in the hands of God; we must return to our boy. Well then, my dearest, what the subject is, about which we are to take counsel, has been said and defined, and now let us continue, keeping our attention fixed 238eupon that definition, and tell what advantage or harm will naturally come from the lover or the non-lover to him who grants them his favors. He who is ruled by desire and is a slave to pleasure will inevitably desire to make his beloved as pleasing to himself as possible. Now to one who is of unsound mind everything is pleasant which does not oppose him, but everything that is better or equal is hateful.