Theages

and you, the one taking advice, since we think nothing the same.

Dem. Why, you seem to me to speak rightly, Socrates, and that is how we should act.

Soc. And I do speak rightly, though not altogether: for I am changing it a little. For I take into account that perhaps this lad here does not desire what we think he 122d desires, but something else, and then again we would be still more absurd, deliberating about some other thing. So the rightest course, I think, is to begin from this very point, finding out thoroughly what it is that he desires.

Dem. It looks, at any rate, as though that is best, as you say.

Soc. Tell me, then: what is the young man’s fine name? What are we to call him?

Dem. Theages is his name, Socrates.

Soc. A fine name, Demodocus, you have given your son, and one 122e befitting the sacred.¹ Tell us, then, Theages: do you say that you desire to become wise, and do you think fit that your father here should find you some man to be with, such a man as will make you wise?

Theag. Yes.

Soc. And whom do you call wise: those who have knowledge, about whatever they have knowledge of, or those who have not?

Theag. Those who have knowledge, I do.

Soc. Well then? Did your father not have you taught and educated in what the others here have been educated in, the sons of fine and good fathers: letters, for instance, and playing the cithara, and wrestling, and the other contests?²

Theag. Yes, me he did.

Soc. 123a Do you think, then, that you still lack some knowledge which it is your father’s part to care for on your behalf?