air shrill and summerlike which makes answer to the chorus of the
cicadae. But the greatest charm of all is the grass, like a pillow
gently sloping to the head. My dear Phaedrus, you have been an
Phaedr. What an incomprehensible being you are, Socrates: when you
are in the country, as you say, you really are like some stranger
who is led about by a guide. Do you ever cross the border? I rather
think that you never venture even outside the gates.
Soc. Very true, my good friend; and I hope that you will excuse me
when you hear the reason, which is, that I am a lover of knowledge,
and the men who dwell in the city are my teachers, and not the trees
or the country. Though I do indeed believe that you have found a spell
with which to draw me out of the city into the country, like a
hungry cow before whom a bough or a bunch of fruit is waved. For
only hold up before me in like manner a book, and you may lead me
all round Attica, and over the wide world. And now having arrived, I
intend to lie down, and do you choose any posture in which you can
read best. Begin.
Phaedr. Listen. You know how matters stand with me; and how, as I
conceive, this affair may be arranged for the advantage of both of us.
And I maintain that I ought not to fail in my suit, because I am not
your lover: for lovers repent of the kindnesses which they have
shown when their passion ceases, but to the non-lovers who are free
and not under any compulsion, no time of repentance ever comes; for
they confer their benefits according to the measure of their
ability, in the way which is most conducive to their own interest.
Then again, lovers consider how by reason of their love they have
neglected their own concerns and rendered service to others: and
when to these benefits conferred they add on the troubles which they
have endured, they think that they have long ago made to the beloved a
very ample return. But the non-lover has no such tormenting
recollections; he has never neglected his affairs or quarrelled with