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Socrates. My good friend, when I was about to cross the stream, the spirit and the sign that usually comes to me came—it always holds me back from something I am about to do—and I thought I heard a voice from it which forbade my going away before clearing my conscience, as if I had committed some sin against deity. Now I am a seer, not a very good one, but, as the bad writers say, good enough for my own purposes; so now I understand my error. How prophetic the soul is, my friend! For all along, while I was speaking my discourse, something troubled me, and as Ibycus says, I was distressed lest I be buying honor among men by sinning against the gods.Ibycus Frag. 24, Bergk.But now I have seen my error.
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Phaedrus. What do you mean?
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Socrates. Phaedrus, a dreadful speech it was, a dreadful speech, the one you brought with you, and the one you made me speak.
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Phaedrus. How so?
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Socrates. It was foolish, and somewhat impious. What could be more dreadful than that?
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Phaedrus. Nothing, if you are right about it.
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Socrates. Well, do you not believe that Love is the son of Aphrodite and is a god?
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Phaedrus. So it is said.
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Socrates. Yes, but not by Lysias, nor by your speech which was spoken by you through my mouth that you bewitched.