§60ΦΑΙΔ. οὐ πολὺν δ’ οὖν χρόνον ἐπισχὼν ἧκεν καὶ ἐκέλευεν ἡμᾶς εἰσιέναι.
Phaedo: Not holding back for much time, then, he came and bade us enter.
εἰσιόντες οὖν κατελαμβάνομεν τὸν μὲν Σωκράτη ἄρτι λελυμένον, τὴν δὲ Ξανθίππην — γιγνώσκεις γάρ — ἔχουσάν τε τὸ παιδίον αὐτοῦ καὶ παρακαθημένην.
Entering, therefore, we found Socrates just now released, and Xanthippe—for you know her—holding his little child and sitting by him.
ὡς οὖν εἶδεν ἡμᾶς ἡ Ξανθίππη, ἀνηυφήμησέ τε καὶ τοιαῦτ’ ἄττα εἶπεν, οἷα δὴ εἰώθασιν αἱ γυναῖκες, ὅτι
ὦ Σώκρατες, ὕστατον δή σε προσεροῦσι νῦν οἱ ἐπιτήδειοι καὶ σὺ τούτους. καὶ ὁ Σωκράτης βλέψας εἰς τὸν Κρίτωνα,
ὦ Κρίτων,
ἔφη,
ἀπαγέτω τις αὐτὴν οἴκαδε. καὶ ἐκείνην μὲν ἀπῆγόν τινες τῶν τοῦ Κρίτωνος βοῶσάν τε καὶ κοπτομένην· ὁ δὲ Σωκράτης ἀνακαθιζόμενος εἰς τὴν κλίνην συνέκαμψέ τε τὸ σκέλος καὶ ἐξέτριψε τῇ χειρί, καὶ τρίβων ἅμα, ὡς ἄτοπον, ἔφη, ὦ ἄνδρες, ἔοικέ τι εἶναι τοῦτο ὃ καλοῦσιν οἱ ἄνθρωποι ἡδύ·
When Xanthippe saw us, she cried out and said such things as women are accustomed to: "O Socrates, this is the very last time now that your friends will speak to you and you to them." And Socrates, looking at Crito, said, "Crito, let someone take her home." And some of Crito's people led her away, as she was crying out and beating her breast; but Socrates, sitting up on the couch, bent his leg and rubbed it with his hand, and while rubbing it, said: "How strange, my friends, seems to be this thing which men call pleasure!
ὡς θαυμασίως πέφυκε πρὸς τὸ δοκοῦν ἐναντίον εἶναι, τὸ λυπηρόν, τὸ ἅμα μὲν αὐτὼ μὴ ᾽θέλειν παραγίγνεσθαι τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ, ἐὰν δέ τις διώκῃ τὸ ἕτερον καὶ λαμβάνῃ, σχεδόν τι ἀναγκάζεσθαι ἀεὶ λαμβάνειν καὶ τὸ ἕτερον, ὥσπερ ἐκ μιᾶς κορυφῆς ἡμμένω δύ’ ὄντε.
How wonderfully it is related by nature to what seems to be its opposite, pain, in that while they both refuse to be present to a man at the same time, yet if anyone pursues the one and takes it, he is almost always compelled to take the other too, as if they were two joined from a single peak.
καί μοι δοκεῖ, ἔφη, εἰ ἐνενόησεν αὐτὰ Αἴσωπος, μῦθον ἂν συνθεῖναι ὡς ὁ θεὸς βουλόμενος αὐτὰ διαλλάξαι πολεμοῦντα, ἐπειδὴ οὐκ ἐδύνατο, συνῆψεν εἰς ταὐτὸν αὐτοῖς τὰς κορυφάς, καὶ διὰ ταῦτα ᾧ ἂν τὸ ἕτερον παραγένηται ἐπακολουθεῖ ὕστερον καὶ τὸ ἕτερον.
And it seems to me," he said, "that if Aesop had thought of this, he would have composed a fable, telling how the god, wishing to reconcile them when they were at war, since he was unable to do so, joined their heads together into the same place, and that is why, to whomever the one comes, the other also follows afterward.
ὥσπερ οὖν καὶ αὐτῷ μοι ἔοικεν· ἐπειδὴ ὑπὸ τοῦ δεσμοῦ ἦν ἐν τῷ σκέλει τὸ ἀλγεινόν, ἥκειν δὴ φαίνεται ἐπακολουθοῦν τὸ ἡδύ. ὁ οὖν Κέβης ὑπολαβών, νὴ τὸν Δία, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἔφη, εὖ γ’ ἐποίησας ἀναμνήσας με.
Just as indeed it seems to be with myself; since the painful was in my leg because of the bond, now the pleasant seems to have come following after it." Then Cebes, taking up the word, said: "By Zeus, Socrates, you did well to remind me.
περὶ γάρ τοι τῶν ποιημάτων ὧν πεποίηκας ἐντείνας τοὺς τοῦ Αἰσώπου λόγους καὶ τὸ εἰς τὸν Ἀπόλλω προοίμιον καὶ ἄλλοι τινές με ἤδη ἤροντο, ἀτὰρ καὶ Εὔηνος πρῴην, ὅτι ποτὲ διανοηθείς, ἐπειδὴ δεῦρο ἦλθες, ἐποίησας αὐτά, πρότερον οὐδὲν πώποτε ποιήσας.
For indeed, concerning the poems which you have composed by putting Aesop's fables into verse, and the hymn to Apollo, some others have already asked me, and especially Evenus the day before yesterday, what on earth you had in mind that, since you came here, you composed them, though you had never composed anything before.
εἰ οὖν τί σοι μέλει τοῦ ἔχειν ἐμὲ Εὐήνῳ ἀποκρίνασθαι ὅταν με αὖθις ἐρωτᾷ — εὖ οἶδα γὰρ ὅτι ἐρήσεται — εἰπὲ τί χρὴ λέγειν. λέγε τοίνυν, ἔφη, αὐτῷ, ὦ Κέβης, τἀληθῆ, ὅτι οὐκ ἐκείνῳ βουλόμενος οὐδὲ τοῖς ποιήμασιν αὐτοῦ ἀντίτεχνος εἶναι ἐποίησα ταῦτα — ᾔδη γὰρ ὡς οὐ ῥᾴδιον εἴη — ἀλλ’ ἐνυπνίων τινῶν ἀποπειρώμενος τί λέγοι, καὶ ἀφοσιούμενος εἰ ἄρα πολλάκις ταύτην τὴν μουσικήν μοι ἐπιτάττοι ποιεῖν.
If, therefore, you care at all that I should have an answer to give to Evenus when he asks me again—for I know well that he will ask—tell me what I ought to say." "Tell him, then, Cebes," he said, "the truth: that I did not compose these because I wished to be a rival to him or to his poems— for I knew that would not be easy—but to test what certain dreams meant, and to clear my conscience, in case they were repeatedly commanding me to practice this kind of music.
ἦν γὰρ δὴ ἄττα τοιάδε· πολλάκις μοι φοιτῶν τὸ αὐτὸ ἐνύπνιον ἐν τῷ παρελθόντι βίῳ, ἄλλοτ’ ἐν ἄλλῃ ὄψει φαινόμενον, τὰ αὐτὰ δὲ λέγον,
ὦ Σώκρατες,
ἔφη,
μουσικὴν ποίει καὶ ἐργάζου.
For they were of this sort: the same dream often visited me in my past life, appearing in different guises at different times, but saying the same thing: 'Socrates,' it said, 'make music and practice it.'"