258
Socrates. Do you think, then, that any of the statesmen, no matter how ill-disposed toward Lysias, reproaches him for being a writer?
258
Phaedrus. It is not likely, according to what you say; for he would be casting reproach upon that which he himself desires to be.
258
Socrates. Then that is clear to all, that writing speeches is not in itself a disgrace.
258
Phaedrus. How can it be?
258
Socrates. But the disgrace, I fancy, consists in speaking or writing not well, but disgracefully and badly.
258
Phaedrus. Evidently.
258
Socrates. What, then, is the method of writing well or badly? Do we want to question Lysias about this, and anyone else who ever has written or will write anything, whether a public or private document, in verse or in prose, be he poet or ordinary man?
258
Phaedrus. You ask if we want to question them? What else should one live for, so to speak, but for such pleasures? Certainly not for those which cannot be enjoyed without previous pain, which is the case with nearly all bodily pleasures and causes them to be justly called slavish.
259
Socrates. We have plenty of time, apparently; and besides, the locusts seem to be looking down upon us as they sing and talk with each other in the heat. Now if they should see us not conversing at mid-day, but, like most people, dozing, lulled to sleep by their song because of our mental indolence, they would quite justly laugh at us, thinking that some slaves had come to their resort and were slumbering about the fountain at noon like sheep. But if they see us conversing and sailing past them unmoved by the charm of their Siren voices, perhaps they will be pleased and give us the gift which the gods bestowed on them to give to men.
259
Phaedrus. What is this gift? I don’t seem to have heard of it.
