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phaedo   


was nothing, but what astonished me was, first, the gentle and

pleasant and approving manner in which he regarded the words of the

young men, and then his quick sense of the wound which had been

inflicted by the argument, and his ready application of the healing

art. He might be compared to a general rallying his defeated and

broken army, urging them to follow him and return to the field of

argument.

Ech. How was that?

Phaed. You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right hand,

seated on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was a good deal

higher. Now he had a way of playing with my hair, and then he smoothed

my head, and pressed the hair upon my neck, and said: To-morrow,

Phaedo, I suppose that these fair locks of yours will be severed.

Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied.

Not so if you will take my advice.

What shall I do with them? I said.

To-day, he replied, and not to-morrow, if this argument dies and

cannot be brought to life again by us, you and I will both shave our

locks; and if I were you, and could not maintain my ground against

Simmias and Cebes, I would myself take an oath, like the Argives,

not to wear hair any more until I had renewed the conflict and

defeated them.

Yes, I said, but Heracles himself is said not to be a match for two.

Summon me then, he said, and I will be your Iolaus until the sun

goes down.

I summon you rather, I said, not as Heracles summoning Iolaus, but

as Iolaus might summon Heracles.

That will be all the same, he said. But first let us take care

that we avoid a danger.

And what is that? I said.

The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is one of

the very worst things that can happen to us. For as there are

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