§360ΣΩ. ὀρθῶς γε, ἔφην ἐγώ.
Socrates: "Quite rightly," I said.
ἀλλὰ ποτέρους φῂς εἰς τὸν πόλεμον οὐκ ἐθέλειν ἰέναι, καλὸν ὂν καὶ ἀγαθόν; —
τοὺς δειλούς,
ἦ δʼ ὅς. —οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἴπερ καλὸν καὶ ἀγαθόν, καὶ ἡδύ; —
ὡμολόγηται γοῦν,
ἔφη. —ἆρʼ οὖν γιγνώσκοντες οἱ δειλοὶ οὐκ ἐθέλουσιν ἰέναι ἐπὶ τὸ κάλλιόν τε καὶ ἄμεινον καὶ ἥδιον; —
ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῦτο ἐὰν ὁμολογῶμεν,
ἔφη,
διαφθεροῦμεν τὰς ἔμπροσθεν ὁμολογίας. —τί δʼ ὁ ἀνδρεῖος;
"But which of the two do you say are unwilling to go into war, although it is beautiful and good?" —"The cowardly," he said. —"Then," I said, "if it is indeed beautiful and good, is it also pleasant?" —"It has at least been agreed so," he said. —"Do the cowardly then, knowing this, refuse to go toward what is more beautiful, better, and more pleasant?" —"But if we agree to this as well," he said, "we shall ruin our former agreements." —"And what of the courageous man?
οὐκ ἐπὶ τὸ κάλλιόν τε καὶ ἄμεινον καὶ ἥδιον ἔρχεται; —
ἀνάγκη,
ἔφη,
ὁμολογεῖν. —οὐκοῦν ὅλως οἱ ἀνδρεῖοι οὐκ αἰσχροὺς φόβους φοβοῦνται, ὅταν φοβῶνται, οὐδὲ αἰσχρὰ θάρρη θαρροῦσιν; —
ἀληθῆ,
ἔφη. —εἰ δὲ μὴ αἰσχρά, ἆρʼ οὐ καλά; —ὡμολόγει. —εἰ δὲ καλά, καὶ ἀγαθά; —
ναί. —οὐκοῦν καὶ οἱ δειλοὶ καὶ οἱ θρασεῖς καὶ οἱ μαινόμενοι τοὐναντίον αἰσχρούς τε φόβους φοβοῦνται καὶ αἰσχρὰ θάρρη θαρροῦσιν; —ὡμολόγει. —θαρροῦσιν δὲ τὰ αἰσχρὰ καὶ κακὰ διʼ ἄλλο τι ἢ διʼ ἄγνοιαν καὶ ἀμαθίαν; —
οὕτως ἔχει,
ἔφη.
Does he not go toward what is more beautiful, better, and more pleasant?" —"It is necessary," he said, "to agree." —"Then, in general, do the courageous not fear shameful fears, when they fear, nor do they feel shameful confidence?" —"True," he said. —"And if not shameful, are they not beautiful?" —He agreed. —"And if beautiful, also good?" —"Yes." —"Then do the cowardly, the rash, and the mad, on the contrary, fear shameful fears and feel shameful confidence?" —He agreed. —"And do they feel confidence in shameful and bad things through anything other than ignorance and lack of understanding?" —"That is so," he said. —"What then?
—τί οὖν; τοῦτο διʼ ὃ δειλοί εἰσιν οἱ δειλοί, δειλίαν ἢ ἀνδρείαν καλεῖς; —
δειλίαν ἔγωγʼ,
ἔφη. —δειλοὶ δὲ οὐ διὰ τὴν τῶν δεινῶν ἀμαθίαν ἐφάνησαν ὄντες; —
πάνυ γʼ,
ἔφη. —διὰ ταύτην ἄρα τὴν ἀμαθίαν δειλοί εἰσιν; —ὡμολόγει. —διʼ ὃ δὲ δειλοί εἰσιν, δειλία ὁμολογεῖται παρὰ σοῦ; —συνέφη. —οὐκοῦν ἡ τῶν δεινῶν καὶ μὴ δεινῶν ἀμαθία δειλία ἂν εἴη; —ἐπένευσε. —ἀλλὰ μήν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἐναντίον ἀνδρεία δειλίᾳ. —ἔφη. —οὐκοῦν ἡ τῶν δεινῶν καὶ μὴ δεινῶν σοφία ἐναντία τῇ τούτων ἀμαθίᾳ ἐστίν; —καὶ ἐνταῦθα ἔτι ἐπένευσεν. —ἡ δὲ τούτων ἀμαθία δειλία; —πάνυ μόγις ἐνταῦθα ἐπένευσεν. —ἡ σοφία ἄρα τῶν δεινῶν καὶ μὴ δεινῶν ἀνδρεία ἐστίν, ἐναντία οὖσα τῇ τούτων ἀμαθίᾳ; —οὐκέτι ἐνταῦθα οὔτʼ ἐπινεῦσαι ἠθέλησεν ἐσίγα τε. —καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον· τί δή, ὦ Πρωταγόρα, οὔτε σὺ φῂς ἃ ἐρωτῶ οὔτε ἀπόφῃς; —
αὐτός,
ἔφη,
πέρανον. —ἕν γʼ, ἔφην ἐγώ, μόνον ἐρόμενος ἔτι σέ, εἴ σοι ὥσπερ τὸ πρῶτον ἔτι δοκοῦσιν εἶναί τινες ἄνθρωποι ἀμαθέστατοι μέν, ἀνδρειότατοι δέ. —
φιλονικεῖν μοι,
ἔφη,
δοκεῖς, ὦ Σώκρατες, τὸ ἐμὲ εἶναι τὸν ἀποκρινόμενον· χαριοῦμαι οὖν σοι, καὶ λέγω ὅτι ἐκ τῶν ὡμολογημένων ἀδύνατόν μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι. οὔτοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἄλλου ἕνεκα ἐρωτῶ πάντα ταῦτα ἢ σκέψασθαι βουλόμενος πῶς ποτʼ ἔχει τὰ περὶ τῆς ἀρετῆς καὶ τί ποτʼ ἐστὶν αὐτό, ἡ ἀρετή.
That by which the cowardly are cowardly, do you call it cowardice or courage?" —"Cowardice, for my part," he said. —"And was it not shown that the cowardly are so through ignorance of what is terrible?" —"Certainly," he said. —"Is it then through this ignorance that they are cowardly?" —He agreed. —"And that by which they are cowardly is agreed by you to be cowardice?" —He consented. —"Then would the ignorance of what is terrible and what is not terrible be cowardice?" —He nodded. —"But surely," I said, "courage is the opposite of cowardice." —He said so. —"Then is wisdom about what is terrible and what is not terrible opposite to the ignorance of these things?" —Here too he still nodded. —"And the ignorance of these things is cowardice?" —Only with great difficulty did he nod here. —"Then is the wisdom about what is terrible and what is not terrible courage, being opposite to the ignorance of these things?" —Here he was no longer willing even to nod, and kept silent. —And I said: "Why is it, Protagoras, that you neither say yes nor no to what I ask?" —"Finish it," he said, "yourself." —"Only one thing," I said, "more I will ask you, whether you still think, as at first, that there are some men who are most ignorant but yet most courageous." —"You seem to me, Socrates," he said, "to be eager for victory in making me the one who answers; so I will gratify you, and I say that from what has been agreed, it seems to me to be impossible." —"Indeed," I said, "I am not asking all these things for any other reason than wishing to examine how the matters concerning virtue stand and what virtue itself is."