There is nothing which I should like better, he said; and as far as I am concerned you may proceed in the way which you think best.

I think, I said, that I had better begin by asking you, What is Temperance? for you must have an opinion about this: if Temperance abides in you, she must give some intimation of her nature and qualities, which may enable you to form some notion of her. Is not that true?

Yes, he said, that I think is true.

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And as you speak Greek, I said, you can surely describe what this appears to be, which you have within you.

Certainly, he said.

In order, then, that I may form a conjecture whether you have temperance abiding in you or not, tell me, I said, what, in your opinion, is Temperance?

At first he hesitated, and was very unwilling to answer : then he said that he thought temperance was doing things orderly and quietly, such things for example as walking in the streets, and talking, or anything else of that nature. word, he said, I should answer that, in my opinion, temperance is quietness.

In a

Are you right, Charmides? I said. No doubt the opinion is held that the quiet are the temperate; but let us see whether they are right who say this; and first tell me whether you would not acknowledge temperance to be of the class of the honorable and good?

Yes.

But which is best when you are at the writing-master's, to write the same letters quickly or quietly?

Quickly.

And to read quickly or slowly?

Quickly again.

And in playing the lyre, or wrestling, quickness or cleverness are far better than quietness and slowness?

Yes.

And the same holds in boxing and the pancratium?
Certainly.

And in leaping and running, and bodily exercises generally, quickness and agility are good; slowness, and inactivity, and quietness, are bad?

That is evident.

Then, I said, in all bodily actions, not quietness, but the greatest agility and quickness, is noblest and best?

Yes, certainly.

And is temperance a good?

Yes.

Then, in reference to the body, not quietness, but quickness, will be the higher degree of temperance, if temperance is a good?

True, he said.

And which, I said, is better

facility in learning, or diffi

culty in learning?

Facility.

Yes, I said; and facility in learning is learning quickly, and difficulty in learning is learning quietly and slowly?

True.

And is it not better to teach one another quickly and energetically, rather than quietly and slowly?

Yes.

And to call to mind, and to remember, quickly and readily that is also better than to remember quietly and slowly? Yes.

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And is not shrewdness a quickness or cleverness of the soul, and not a quietness?

True.

And is it not best to understand what is said, whether at the writing-master's or the music-master's, or anywhere else, not as quietly as possible, but as quickly as possible?

Yes.

And when the soul inquires, and in deliberations, not the quietest, as I imagine, and he who with difficulty deliberates and discovers, is thought worthy of praise, but he who does this most easily and quickly?

That is true, he said.

And in all that concerns either body or soul, swiftness and activity are clearly better than slowness and quietness?

That, he said, is the inference.

Then temperance is not quietness, nor is the temperate life quiet, upon this view; for the life which is temperate is supposed to be the good. And of two things, one is true, either never, or very seldom, do the quiet actions in life appear to be better than the quick and energetic ones; or, granting ever so much that of the nobler sort of actions, there are as many quiet, as quick and vehement ones: still, even if we admit this, temperance will not be acting quietly any more than acting quickly

and vehemently, either in walking, talking, or anything else; nor will the quiet life be more temperate than the unquiet, seeing that temperance is reckoned by us in the class of good and houorable, and the quick have been shown to be as good as the quiet.

I think, he said, Socrates, that you are right in saying that. Then once more, Charmides, I said, fix your attention, and look within; consider the effect which temperance has upon yourself, and the nature of that which has the effect. Think over that, and, like a brave youth, tell me What is temper

ance.

After a moment's pause, in which he made a real manly ef fort to think, he said: My opinion is, Socrates, that temperance makes a man ashamed or modest, and that temperance is the same as modesty.

Very good. I said; and did you not admit, just now, that temperance is honorable?

Yes, certainly, he said.

And the temperate are also good?

Yes.

And can that be good which does not make men good?
Certainly not.

And you would infer that temperance is not ouly honorable,

but also good?

That is my opinion.

Well, I said; and surely you would agree with Homer

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when he says,

"Modesty is not good for a needy man?

Yes, he said; I agree to that.

Then I suppose that modesty is and is not good?
That is plain.

But temperance, whose presence makes men ouly good, and not bad, is always good?

That appears to me to be as you say.

Then the inference is, that temperance cannot be modesty if temperance is a good, and if modesty is as much an evil as a good?

All that, Socrates, appears to me to be true; but I should like to know what you think about another definition of temperance, which I just now remember to have heard from some one, who said, "That temperance is doing our own business." Was he right who affirmed that?

You young monster! I said; this is what Critias, or some philosopher has told you.

Some one else, then, said Critias; for certainly I have not. But what matter, said Charmides, from whom I heard this? No matter at all, I replied; for the point is not who said the words, but whether they are true or not.

There you are in the right, Socrates, he replied.

To be sure, I said; yet I doubt whether we shall ever be able to discover their truth or falsehood; for they are a riddle. What makes you think that? he said.

Because, I said, he who uttered them seems to me to have meant one thing, and said another. Is the scribe, for example, to be regarded as doing nothing when he reads or writes?

I should rather think that he was doing something.

And does the scribe write or read, or teach you boys to write or read, your own names only, or did you write your enemies' names as well as your own and your friends'?

As much one as the other.

And was there anything meddling or iutemperate in this? Certainly not.

And yet, if reading and writing are the same as doing, you were doing what was not your own business?

But they are the same as doing.

And the healing art, my friend, and building, and weaving, and doing anything whatever which is done by art, all come under the head of doing?

Certainly.

And do you think that a state would be well ordered by a law which compelled every man to weave and wash his own coat, and make his own shoes, and his own flask and strigil, and other implements, on this principle of every one doing and performing his own, and abstaining from what is not his own?

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I think not, he said.

But, I said, a temperate state will be a well-ordered state. Of course, he replied.

Then temperance, I said, will not be doing one's own business; at least not in this way, or not doing these sort of things?

Clearly not.

Then, as I was just now saying, he who declared that temperance is a man doing his own business had another and a

hidden meaning; for I don't think that he could have been such a fool as to mean this. Was he a fool who told you, Charmides?

Nay, he replied, I certainly thought him a very wise man.

Then I am quite certain that he put forth this as a riddle: he meant to say that there was a difliculty in a man knowing what is his own business.

I dare say, he replied.

And what, then, is the meaning of a man doing his own business? Can you tell me?

Indeed, I cannot, he said; and I shouldn't wonder if he who said this had no notion of his own meaning. And in saying this he laughed slyly, and looked at Critias.

Critias had long been showing uneasiness, for he felt that he had a reputation to maintain with Charmides and the rest of the company. He had, however, hitherto managed to restrain himself; but now he could no longer forbear, and his eagerness satisfied me of the truth of my suspicion, that Charmides had heard this auswer about temperance from Critias. And Charmides, who did not want to answer himself, but to make Critias answer, tried to stir him up. He went on pointing out that he had been refuted, and at this Critias got angry, and, as I thought, was rather inclined to quarrel with him; just as a poet might quarrel with an actor who spoiled his poems in repeating them; so he looked hard at him and said,

Do you imagine, Charmides, that the author of the definition of temperance did not understand the meaning of his own words, because you don't understand them?

Why, at his age, I said, most excellent Critias, he can hardly be expected to understand; but you, who are older, and have studied, may well be assumed to know the meaning of them; and therefore, if you agree with him, and accept his definition of temperance, I would much rather argue with you than with him about the truth or falsehood of the definition.

I entirely agree, said Critias, and accept the definition. Very good, I said; and now let me repeat my question Do you admit, as I was just now saying, that all craftsmen make or do something?

I do.

And do they make or do their own business only, or that of others also?

They make that of others also.

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