Plato's  SYMPOSIUM

A Dramatic Adaption by Robert N. Lawson

 OPENING FRAME [A road near Athens.]
GLAUCON
Apollodoros wait!  Why can't you hear?
I'm almost out of breath from calling you!

APOLLODOROS
Ah, Glaucon!  Is it you?  My long-lost friend.
Well, how's the world been treating you these days?

GLAUCON
[Puffing.]  Oh, well enough.  And yes, it's been a while.
I've meant to look you up a hundred times,
So when I saw you walking up ahead,
Here on the road to Athens, I was pleased,
"A fellow traveller!  What a piece of luck!"
But you set such a pace I can't keep up.                          10
[Apollodoros laughs.]
Slow down . . . now that I've caught you . . . talk to me.

APOLLODOROS
What shall we talk about?  It's quite a ways.

GLAUCON
You know what I'd most like to hear about . . .
Is Agathon's fine party . . . and his guests!
Of Socrates and Alcibiades,
And all the others who gave speeches there . . .
Those speeches honoring the God of Love.
We heard some fragments of it recently
From one who'd heard the parts that he had heard
From Phoenix, son of Philip, who had heard                   20
About it from . . . some other . . . who was there.
He said he thought that you were there as well.
But where we wished him clear he was confused.
So please, Apollodoros, take this time
To tell the story to me . . . first to last.
You're always best reporting Socrates,
For you remember everything he says,
As if you had it written down somewhere.
Remarkable!  And were you really there?
To hear those speeches made in praise of Love?             30

APOLLODOROS
Well Phoenix really must have been confused
If he thought it was possible that I
Had been a guest at that symposium.
Why Agathon left Athens years ago,
And it's much less than three since I became
So close to Socrates I keep informed
About the things he does, and what he says.
I was a wretched fellow way back then,
Would run about the world  and think myself . . .
Important . . . just as you and your friends now--            40
And all who disregard philosophy.

GLAUCON
Come now, Apollodoros, why insult
A man who seeks you out to learn from you.
It's not my fault that we so seldom meet.
But tell me, was that party just a myth?

APOLLODOROS
Oh no, it happened, but when we were boys.
When Agathon won first in tragedy
His chorus offered formal sacrifice.
The dinner party was the following day.

GLAUCON
Ah . . . long ago.  And Socrates told you?                        50

APOLLODOROS
Not Socrates.  It may have been the man
That Phoenix, indirectly, heard it from,
A Cydathenian . . . who wore no shoes . . .
Aristodemos . . . just a little man.
But he was there.  A friend of Socrates,
And no one more devoted in those days.
I've questioned Socrates on some details
And he's confirmed Aristodemos' tale.

GLAUCON
Well now, to make the road to Athens short,
You must tell me.  I'll listen as we walk.                         60

APOLLODOROS
I'll do my best.  What pleasure can compare
With speculation on philosophy?
And how I pity, when I'm so engaged,
The shallow conversation of the rich
I often hear among you wealthy men;
You fool yourselves by thinking such discourse
Can ever have the least significance.
And yet I know what you all think of me,
My values, and the nature of my life.
I hear myself called "madman" frequently                      70
For holding these opinions.  Even so . . .
I can't deny a gentleman's request.  [Pause.]
When he was telling those of us who heard,
Aristodemos struggled to recall
The many speeches he had heard that night,
And I cannot remember everything
That he told us.  But, still, I'll do my best
To recreate the major arguments
Of those chief speakers . . . and of Socrates . . .
To tempt your spirit to philosophy,                                  80
At least as long as it will take to walk
From here to Athens . . . for that hour or two.
Then, after that?  You'll be back on your own.
Distractions of the city may prevail.

GLAUCON
Apollodoros, I know you condemn
All men but your beloved Socrates--
But I'll accept your taunts without complaint
If you'll share that experience with me.

APOLLODOROS
All right.  Pick up your pace, and I'll begin.
Aristodemos said that he had met                                   90
With Socrates, just coming from the bath,
And wearing sandals . . . which he never does.
He asked where he was going in such style.

[The two go off, talking, as the lights come up on . . .]

[The house of Agathon, Greek aristocrat and playwright, 417 BC.  Agathon, Aristophanes, Eryximachus, and Phaedrus are seated at dinner, engaged in conversation.  Two boys are serving them, supervised by an older servant.  Aristodemos enters, looks around at them, then behind him, stands bewildered a moment, and is about to go back out when Agathon looks up and sees him.]

AGATHON
Aristodemos!  There you are!  What luck!
Why I looked everywhere for you today,
To ask you here to join in this "affair,"
But couldn't find you.  [Pause.]  Now, where's Socrates?

ARISTODEMOS
[Looking behind him again.]
I came with Socrates.  He was right here!
In fact, he did invite me . . . in your name.
I just now met him coming from the bath,
And wearing sandals--which he never does--
So asked, "Where are you going, all dressed up?"
He said that he was coming here tonight,                       10
To celebrate your plays' great victory,
Had made himself so handsome honoring
So truly handsome, and so young, a host.
Inviting me to come along, he said
He'd think of some excuse, or else, perhaps,
Cite Homer, who brought Menelaus to
The feast of Agamemnon, even though
He hadn't been invited.  I told him
That was an apt comparison, because,
Since Menelaus was the lesser man                                 20
Come uninvited to the greater's feast,
So, in my ignorance, I come to feast
Among the wise--a double benefit--
But not as uninvited, certainly,
Would hold myself invited here by him--
And he must be prepared with that excuse.
He was right here, but now has disappeared,
So my excuse has disappeared as well.

AGATHON
One of you boys!  Please go find Socrates,
And bring him in.  Aristodemos, you                               30
Sit next to Phaedrus there.  He'll make a place.

[A general murmur of welcome as Aristodemos is seated.  One boy goes out the way Aristodemos entered; the other begins to bring him food and drink, under the direction of the older servant.]
ARISTODEMOS
[Nodding to all.]
My friends.  As long as I've known Socrates
You'd think that I'd be harder to surprise
By strange behavior . . . since it's just his way.

AGATHON
Yes . . . strange.  There's no explaining Socrates.
Who else would treat a feast so casually . . .
Come late to eat!
[The boy returns.]  Well, did you find the man?

BOY
He's stepped into the portico next door,
And there he stands, just staring off in space.
I call him, but he doesn't answer me.                               40

AGATHON
[Annoyed.]  Then call him yet again!  Tell him he's late!

ARISTODEMOS
No, don't do that.  Just let him be.  He'll come.
That's just his way . . . to go off by himself
And stand and think like that.  He'll come in soon.
I think it's better not to bother him.

AGATHON
All right.  We'll leave him standing there alone.
You know the man's peculiarities
Much better than I do.   It baffles me.
Let's turn instead to our own appetites.
I've told my servants they're to see themselves               50
As hosts this evening, and to serve their guests
As they think best, by their own taste and skills.
So I can say, without undue self-praise,
That I've dined very well.

ARISTOPHANES
                                              Ah, Agathon,
How cleverly contrived . . . and what results!
[To the servants.]
My peerless hosts, this dinner was superb!
But, gentlemen, how do we manage now . . .
To drink without much damage to ourselves?
I'm suffering still from yesterday's debauch,
Spontaneous, extravagant, and wild,                                60
In celebration of our friend's success,
Our Agathon's great triumph . . . splendid plays!
Now I would like a chance to catch my breath.
So should the rest of you.  What do you think?
Let's make it easy on ourselves tonight.

ERYXIMACHUS
Yes, Aristophanes . . . I think you're right.
But what of Agathon?  This party's his.

AGATHON
My  reputation as a drinking man
May suffer as a consequence of this,
But I'm inclined to moderation, too.                                70

ERYXIMACHUS
How fortunate for those with weaker heads--
Who can't compete with you in any case--
When you great drinkers are not in the mood.
But, as physician, that's what I'd advise,
Reminding you immoderate drinking is
A curse--and an abomination, too.
I never so indulge, and, if I can,
Discourage it in others . . . even those
Still suffering from yesterday's excess.

PHAEDRUS
[Laughing.]  Well, Eryximachus, that settles it.               80
I'll follow your professional advice.
So should the others, too, since, in this case,
Your science and their inclinations match.

ERYXIMACHUS
A principle no good physician scorns.
If that's agreed . . . let each drink what he will.
Then here's my next suggestion.  I propose
That when the flute girls come, they're sent away,
Or entertain the women there inside.
Let's curb the beast this evening, if we can,
And try to liberate the rational man . . .                           90
To entertain each other for a while
With conversation, but . . . well bless my soul!
Just mention "conversation" here he comes.

[Socrates enters.]
AGATHON
Come, Socrates, and take this place by me.
I want to touch you, so to share some part
Of that wise thought you must have found out there.
I'm sure you never would have come away
Unless you'd found it.  Come and share it now.

SOCRATES
[Taking the place at Agathon's right.]
How great a blessing that would be, my friend,
If wisdom were to run by touch like that,                      100
From full to empty, just as water runs
From full to empty through a piece of wool
To fill an empty cup.  I wish it would.
If wisdom were like that, then I would be
The one to benefit by sitting here--
Beyond the honor that it truly is--
For I would be the one to be filled up
With wisdom . . . out of your immense supply.
My own is suspect, like a fickle dream,
But yours is brilliant.  How it blazes out--                     110
So manifest while you are still so young--
In those fine tragedies you offered us,
And thirty thousand others seated there
In that huge theater . . . listening to your words,
As if to Dionysus' voice itself.

AGATHON
Ah, how you love to mock me, Socrates!
We'll have to go to court to settle this,
Determine which of us most truly has
The greater claim to wisdom . . . and, well yes,
Let Dionysus be the judge of that.                                 120
But come, you're  late.  You must catch up with us.
Boy, see what's left for Socrates to eat.
[The boy goes out.]

ERYXIMACHUS
And Socrates, I know it's fine with you
To drink or not, whatever others choose.
As you came in we had determined that
We would avoid another wild debauch
And turn to conversation for tonight.
When you arrived I'd started to propose
A pattern of procedure we might use.

SOCRATES
All right, my friend.  And what do you propose?           130

[The boys serve Socrates, who eats at leisure during the first speeches.  They also clear other dishes away and set two bowls of wine on the table, from which the men fill their cups.]
ERYXIMACHUS
Euripides has his Melanippe
Remark, "not mine the words." And that is true.
I borrow this fine thought from Phaedrus here.
[A bow to him.]  A week or two ago he said to me,
With indignation sounding in his voice,
"Such gross neglect is just ridiculous!
Of all the lyric poets who have lived,
Not one has ever praised the god of Love.
And all those sophists write their eulogies
To Hercules, and such heroic men--                              140
A noble enterprise--but none to Love.
I heard one wax ecstatic over salt,
And its great usefulness to man.  On salt!
Can such a thing be possible?  To make
A fuss about the properties of salt
And still ignore the ancient god of Love?"
Now, Phaedrus, do I quote you accurately?

PHAEDRUS
If anything . . . improve upon my words.

ERYXIMACHUS
And I endorse them, Phaedrus.  You are right,
For Eros does deserve profoundest praise.                   150
And I suggest we make amends tonight,
Take this occasion to redress that wrong.
I'm ready with my offering to Love,
If each of you will undertake the same.
An entertaining evening should result.
I think the youngest, Phaedrus, should begin,
Since it's his own idea we adopt,
And also since beginning at this end
Arranges it so Socrates is last,
Providing him a chance, while others speak,                160
To eat a bite or two before his turn.

SOCRATES
Ah, Eryximachus, forever true
To your profession, and your patients' health,
Concerned to see that I eat properly.
I thank you.  And I'm sure we all agree
With each of the suggestions you have made.
[The others all agree.]
And how could I refuse, when, really, Love
Is all that I  profess to understand.
Let Phaedrus then begin, as you propose . . .
And as he seems so anxious now to do.                        170

PHAEDRUS
All right, I will.  In my opinion, then,
All-mighty Eros is the greatest . . . and . . .
Most wonderful . . . and oldest . . .of the gods.
The oldest, for no parents are described
In any of the legends or accounts.
As Hesiod says, "vast Chaos was at first;
Then came broad bosomed Earth, the source of all . . .
And then came Love."  Acusilaus agrees,
That Earth and Love came after Chaos . . . right?
Parmenides describes the sequence thus,                      180
In speaking of the Generating Force,
"First in the train of gods he fashioned Love."
So all the best authorities agree:
Eros is much the oldest of the gods.

ERYXIMACHUS
And is it such a virtue to be old?
[Laughs.]  The oldest of us here might not agree.

PHAEDRUS
No, not for mortal men, but it must be
The highest virtue for immortal gods!  [Pause.]
But even more deserving of our praise,
Regarded from the human point of view,                      190
The greatest virtues found in mortal men
Come from this god, have Eros as their source.
Love does what neither family nor friends,
Nor wealth, nor public praise . . . nor anything . . .
Can do to give a man a sense of shame
When he has met dishonor for his acts,
Or stir a deep ambition to excel,
To be a man of honor . . . serving Love.
Without such men no city can be great,
Without such inspiration what would make                   200
An individual sacrifice himself
Producing something beautiful and rare?
A man in love, caught in a shameful act,
Would much prefer that those who found him out
Would be his teachers, or his life-long friends,
His mother or his father--anyone--
So long as his beloved never knew.
To build a state or army of such men,
Entirely of lovers, would insure
The greatness of that army . . . or that state.                  210
The citizens of such a state would make--
For one another--any sacrifice
That would assure the loved one's happiness
Surround his life with beauty, and the arts . . .
And noble institutions for his laws.
A few such troops would conquer all the world--
For what true lover would desert the ranks,
Throw down  his arms, or turn to run away
So long as his beloved was looking on?
He'd rather stand and die a thousand deaths!               220
That courage which the gods in Homer breathe,
Capriciously, into some hero's soul
Our Eros, god of Love, breathes into all . . .
Who find the one beloved in jeopardy . . .
A breath of his own spirit . . . so divine.

ARISTODEMOS
And so you're praising Eros as the source
Of all our virtues?  Both in peace and war?

PHAEDRUS
Much more, Aristodemos . . . as you'll see.
For Love, and only Love, can make a man
Content to give his life for someone else.                      230
And this holds true for women just as well.
Alcestis, for example, chose to die
To save her husband, Ademetis, when
His parents both refused to die for him,
Surpassing them in tenderness of love.
Impressed by such a noble sacrifice,
The gods then sent Alcestis back alive--
Although she'd been received among the dead.
So rare an honor is reserved it seems
For true devotion in the name of Love.                         240

AGATHON
But, Phaedrus, how much more the gods admire
The one beloved who makes the sacrifice,
Who, dying for his lover, wins their praise,
For when Achilles gave his life for Love
They sent him to the Islands of the Blest.
Achilles knew that if he fought at Troy,
Revenged himself on Hector, he would die,
But if he left the war and went back home
He'd live a tranquil life, to ripe old age.
He chose his death, avenging Patroclus,                       250
His lover, who had died at Hector's hands.
For Aeschylus to say Achilles was
The lover, and Patroclus the beloved,
Distorts the truth . . . is just ridiculous!
Achilles, the more handsome of the two--
Most handsome man of any man alive--
Was much the younger, too, was beardless still,
As Homer says.  He must be the beloved.
So, greatly as the gods esteem true love,
And grant a lover's sacrifice high praise,                       260
It seems to me they find return of love
Involving certain death worth that much more.

PHAEDRUS
Well, Agathon, it may be that they feel
The lover merits highest honor less
Because he's been inspired by the god.
But Eros is responsible as well
For passion the beloved comes to feel--
Love's the inspiring force in either case.
So, gentlemen, I here proclaim that Love,
That oldest, noblest, and most powerful                        270
Of all the gods, has greatest influence
On both the virtue and the happiness
Of all mankind--the living and the dead.

[Applause and appreciative comment.]
ARISTODEMOS
Let me speak next, while thoughts are fresh in mind,
For Phaedrus raised a point or two on which
I almost feel "inspired" to respond. [General assent.]
I thank you, gentlemen . . . and Phaedrus, too.
But as I listened, Phaedrus, I despaired.
I wondered if I really understood
Our joint agreement here.  What could I do?                 280
Are we committed to the praise of Love
In these most sweeping and promiscuous terms?
That might be fine if Love were only one,
But Love is of two kinds--the good and bad--
And only one deserves such lavish praise.

PHAEDRUS
Two gods of Love?  Can you distinguish them?

ARISTODEMOS
That's what I now intend to . . . explicate.
But, first, I want to challenge your first claim--
That Eros is the oldest of the gods.
For it's well known, in legend and in myth,                  290
That Eros is the son, and servant, of
The goddess Aphrodite--so is young.
And it's because the goddesses are two,
The Heavenly Aphrodite, that we praise,
And then that Earthly goddess . . . both with sons . . .
That we must recognize two gods of Love,
Both powerful--but very different.

PHAEDRUS
How so?  The Love I know is only one.

ARISTODEMOS
Well, first, we all agree no action is
Deserving honor in and of itself.                                   300
The honor or dishonor must depend
Upon the spirit motivating it.  [General assent.]
Love is the same.  Not all is beautiful,
Inspiring noble actions worth high praise,
But only that which has a noble aim.
The Eros who inspires this kind of love,
Is Heavenly, the Eros we should praise.
The Earthly Eros aims at random goals,
Produces mischief more than anything.
Provokes the love of most inferior men,                       310
The love of women, not just love of boys,
The love of bodies rather than of souls.
They even choose as their beloved, in fact,
Most foolish persons, rather than the wise.
Indulgent satisfaction is their goal,
Immediate and physical--that's all--
While those inspired by the Heavenly god,
Whose mother had no female attributes
In her conception, always choose the male,
Choose what is stronger, more intelligent.                     320
Since they are seeking union with the strong,
You won't see them pursuing younger boys,
To take advantage of their innocence
And then run laughing on to other prey.
These are the ones attracted to the best,
To those who have begun to show a mind,
And they are ready to commit themselves
To life-long union with the ones they love.

ERYXIMACHUS
In fact the city ought to have a law
Forbidding so-called "lovers" who pursue                     330
The very young--for no one can predict
The future of a creature still a child,
So much "enthusiasm" goes to waste.

ARISTODEMOS
Yes, I agree.  And good men do impose
A law like that upon themselves, it seems.
But then perhaps the city should impose
A law with stiffer penalties upon
Adherents of the Earthly Eros, as
We now insist that they must not make love
To freeborn women, or engage in lewd,                         340
Bizarre, disgusting, or licentious acts,
Acts of the kind that others, seeing,  feel
Makes gratifying lovers a disgrace
No matter what the circumstances are,
While nothing nobly done can bring disgrace--
No love inspired by the Heavenly god.

AGATHON
But here in Athens--and in Sparta, too--
The complicated laws concerning love
Already show distinctions we have made,
That most men, in most places, would ignore.               350
In cities to the north, those simple men,
Who never cultivate their language skills
Don't see it as disgraceful to respond
To any lover, any appetite,
Perhaps because these men of such few words
Don't care to take the trouble of pursuit,
Of pleading with their love at any length.
And yet in parts of old Ionia,
And anywhere barbarians still rule,
The love of all young men is much condemned,           360
As are gymnastics and philosophy,
For tyrants do not want their subjects free
To cultivate the spirit or the mind,
Or form strong friendships of the lasting kind
That love is apt to foster in young men.

ARISTODEMOS
Well both extremes are unacceptable--
The general condemnation of all Love
Tyrannical oppression at its worst,
And, just as bad, complete licentiousness,
An open sign of moral apathy.                                       370
In Athens it is better, I agree,
But, yes, it  is more complicated here.

PHAEDRUS
I'd say that Love  your Heavenly Love, at least--
Is definitely encouraged here, for we
Consider it far better when we love
To do it openly--not secretly--
To love the highest and the best of men,
Though they may be less handsome--like as not.
We all encourage such a lover here,
And think it good, not shameful, to succeed.                 380
We praise a man who does things in pursuit
Of love which done for any other end
Would bring disgrace, be unforgivable.
Accumulating wealth or property,
Pursuing public office or acclaim,
If any man were to behave himself
As lovers do, to swear outrageous oaths,
Impossible to ever be performed,
Performing services no slave would do,
Then begging and beseeching the beloved,                   390
While sleeping at the door, there in the street,
He would be shamed by friends and foes alike,
And ridiculed for such activities.
But all of this is tolerated here
In one who loves--considered admirable.
And, strangest thing of all, it seems to me,
That he alone is pardoned--by the gods--
For breaking his sworn oath.  No one would think
A lover's oath could ever be enforced.
At least in Athens, lovers would appear                       400
To have full license to pursue their love.

ERYXIMACHUS
Yes, Phaedrus, but Athenian fathers still
Hire tutors for their handsome teenage sons,
And order them to keep such love away.
While boys of their own age make fun of them
If anything like this is going on,
And older men, when seeing this, approve,
Which makes it seem such practices are judged
Objectionable in Athens after all.

ARISTODEMOS
It does seem quite confusing, doesn't it?                        410
But just because there are two kinds of Love.
What matters is which Eros is at work.
The love inspired by the Earthly god,
Directed toward the body, not the soul,
Is obviously ephemeral, of course,
As short lived as the flowers we see in May.
As soon as that boy's beauty fades away,
The beauty of the body, not the mind,
The earthly lover flies away as well,
In spite of all his vows and promises.                             420
But when the Heavenly Eros is at work,
The lover of a good and noble soul,
A thing that will endure beyond one spring,
Becomes more faithful as his love grows old.
Athenian custom would restrain the one--
A lustful impulse that's a nuisance here--
Encouraging the other, if it can,
But first it must determine which is which.
Not to be won too quickly is admired,
For time will test the temper of the love,                       430
And not by money, or by property,
Political advantage, or awards.
It's shameful to be moved by fleeting things
Of transitory value--such as these--
For generous friendship takes a larger view.

SOCRATES
And so, Aristodemos, you have found
Simplicity in this complexity,
If just one kind of Love is honored here.
As every lover is a willing slave,
It then would follow that his slavery                              440
Is only honorable in serving good,
To serve a man who's noble, or is wise,
In hopes of then becoming wise himself.
In such a case two precepts meet as one,
The impulse of a promising young man
To follow virtue and philosophy,
And that of men of virtue, and the wise,
To value such ambition in the young,
And want to see such promise soon fulfilled.
It's only then the lover and  beloved,                             450
In complementing one another's love,
In virtue's service, find true harmony.

ARISTODEMOS
Yes, Socrates, and, in a case like that,
To be deceived is even small disgrace.
To gratify a lover seeking wealth,
Supposing him to be a wealthy man,
And then to be deceived--now that's disgrace--
But whether there was money there or not,
The character of both must suffer shame.
But one desiring virtue for himself,                               460
Who gratifies a lover he believes
Is virtuous, then finds he is deceived
By mere appearance in the one so loved,
Commits a noble error we forgive,
In service of the Heavenly God of Love.
So, Phaedrus, and my friends, and gentlemen,
The fundamental principle, I say,
If we intend to praise Love properly,
Encouraging, in Athens, wholesome Love,
We must distinguish love that is inspired                       470
By Heavenly Aphrodite and her son,
A love divine and precious to behold,
The cultivation of the which by all
Serves virtue and nobility of mind,
From love inspired by the Earthly god,
Pernicious in its motivating force--
And transitory.  Blink and it is gone!  [General applause.]

ARISTOPHANES
[Hiccuping.]  A nice distinction . . . and a lovely speech.
Well it's . . . my turn . . . but . . . I've got hiccups now.
Since you're the doctor, Eryximachus . . .                      480
Please stop my hiccups . . . or please take my place . . .
Until I get the hiccups stopped myself.

ERYXIMACHUS
Since you say "please," I'll try my hand at both.
I'll take your turn, and you can then take mine.
And, while I'm speaking, you must hold your breath
As long as you can hold it, and you'll see
The hiccups stop.  But, if that doesn't work,
Then gargle water.  That should do the trick.
Though if that doesn't work, there's one way left,
To take a straw and tickle in your nose,                        490
Provoke a sneeze.  Do that a time or two
And any case of hiccups ought to yield.

ARISTOPHANES
Well, go ahead, then.  [Hiccup.]
                                    Give your speech on Love.
I'll follow your instructions while you do.

ERYXIMACHUS
Well, fine.  I'm pleased with speaking now, in fact,
For I've a most important point to add.
I thought Aristodemos started well,
But ended rather lamely, so I'll try
To put a finish on his argument--
To offer the conclusion he implied.                               500
He said that Love's a double god.  That's right.
But then his application's too confined.
My own experience, in medicine,
Has shown me how pervasive Eros is.
The god of Love holds sway in everything,
Not only working in the souls of men,
To draw them toward the good and beautiful,
But in all creatures . . . everything that grows,
That lives on earth, breathes air, swims in the sea.

[He glances at Aristophanes, who is making a show of holding his breath, and hiccupping, then frowns and looks away.]
But first I'll speak of Love in medicine,                         510
To do that special honor to my art.

AGATHON
[Laughing.]  Well I suppose we must allow you that.
I'm not sure how we'd stop you anyway.

ERYXIMACHUS
First off, both kinds of Love will co-exist
In every human body, constantly,
As health and illness  vie to dominate.
Now we've been told it's right to gratify
The good in love--but never lustful men.
In dealing with the body it's the same.
We should encourage healthy appetites--                      520
Those leading to disease should be denied.
The skilled physician's diagnostic aim
Is telling which is which, so he can then
Convert the one into the other kind,
Eradicate disease, engender health,
And harmonize the body's elements--
So hot and cold, the bitter and the sweet,
The wet and dry, and other opposites,
Are reconciled, promoting perfect health.
The secret of the art of medicine,                                  530
And, for that matter, that of every art,
From training athletes in gymnastic skill
To raising crops--and  music most of all--
Lies in discovering rules of harmony.

[Aristophanes is gargling water.  Eryximachus pauses, then speaks over the sound, pretending not to hear.]
What Heraclitus had in mind, I think,
When he expressed the paradox like this,
Said, "Unity derives its harmony
From discord, like the bow, or like the lyre"--
Though I admit his words are none too clear.
It sounds quite contradictory to say                               540
That harmony is discord, I agree;
He must have meant to say that harmony
Means balancing the high notes and the low,
Accommodating faster rhythms, too,
With slower rhythms, and the loud and soft,
Discordant pairs until they 're reconciled--
All unified by the musician's art.

PHAEDRUS
The purpose, then, of music . . . all the arts . . .
Would be to discipline that Earthly god?

[Aristophanes stops gargling, all attention--then hiccups.  He smiles and shrugs.  Then, as Eryximachus continues, he motions a boy over and whispers to him.  The boy goes out, looking bewildered, and returns a little later with a feather.]
ERYXIMACHUS
No, Phaedrus, no!  That's not my point at all!               550
These contraries to which I've just referred
Are not to be identified with those
Two kinds of Love--the good Love and the bad--
Aristodemos has defined for us.
We're not concerned with that dichotomy
Until, in music, we're adapting notes
And rhythms to the purposes of man,
Composing melodies to shape our youth,
For use in education and their songs.
The craftsman should distinguish, at that point,             560
Aristodemos's two kinds of Love,
For just the reason he remarked upon:
Those of sound appetite in harmony,
And those developing such appetite,
Ought to be gratified in what they hear,
While those of lewd or unsound appetite,
Or those developing such appetite,
Should be denied--that music go unheard.
The Love associated with the first
Is Heavenly Love, the Love we mean to praise,            570
While that related to the second kind,
Is various and random . . . not to trust;
Its objects should be monitored with care,
So that the pleasure such loose songs provoke
Will not encourage rash intemperance.
The same in medicine--the doctor must
So manage the desires in those he tends,
Related to the art of cooking food,
That pleasures of the table are retained
Without the loss of health loose eating brings.              580
As eating, for the body, governs health,
So music is provision for the soul;
To manage both those appetites insures
The proper balance of those elements.
It's when we first consider such effects
In music, Phaedrus, or in medicine . . .
In every art that man engages in . . .
That Earthly Love and Heavenly Love must be
Quite carefully distinguished--for good health.
[Aristophanes is tickling his nose and sneezing, to the amusement of all, Eryximachus pretending not to notice.]
The weather, and the seasons of the year,                     590
Depend as well on these two kinds of Love;
Whenever hot and cold, and dry and wet,
Are sweetly harmonized by Heavenly Love,
There is a temperate mixture in the air,
A pleasant season for all living things.
[Directed at Aristophanes, who now stops sneezing and looks innocent.]
But when brash Earthly Love, and violence,
Control the seasons, they are harsh and rude,
And pestilence and  rank diseases come,
Effect wild beasts, and every growing thing,
With hoar frost, hail, dark storms, and blight.                600
[More benignly.]
Astronomy is much concerned with Love--
Its operations in that larger sphere--
And sacrifice and divination, too,
Involving man's communion with the gods,
Is governed by the Heavenly god of Love.
So, gentlemen, no matter where we look
We see the god of Love is hard at work.
Love is indeed a great and mighty power--
The Love I mean, of course, is Heavenly Love,
Working through justice, and through temperance,       610
To bring us individual happiness,
But still promotes the skills that then allow
Us all to live together . . . meet like this . . .
[Pausing to look at Aristophanes.]
In friendship and in social harmony,
And, finally, rest easy with the gods.
Well, Aristophanes, if you should find
That I have been remiss, have left things out
In praising Love, I leave it up to you
To  please supply what's missing, if you can,
Since now I see your hiccups  must be gone.                 620

ARISTOPHANES
Yes, thanks to you, my hiccups now are gone.
But not until the sneezing was provoked,
Which makes me think the healthy principle
Must love the tickling, and the sneezing, too,
For that's what it responded to . . . at last.  [Laughter.]

ERYXIMACHUS
Go on!  Provoke a laugh--at my expense!
I thought we had a serious task in hand!

ARISTOPHANES
[Laughing.]  I take it back, and, Eryximachus,
I'll be so serious now that you'll be proud,
Though normally I would provoke a laugh                   630
If given half a chance--or audience--
For that's essential to my own poor art.
Still, some of what I am about to say
May seem to be ridiculous to you,
In spite of my most serious intent.

ERYXIMACHUS
You think that you can play your little jokes
And get off free?  No, Aristophanes!
For you'll soon see that two can play that game.

ARISTOPHANES
Ah, well.  Now how can I redeem myself . . .               640
In praising Eros, that great God of Love?
His dedication to the human race
Is so remarkable, in fact, that you,
Aristodemos--and all other men--
Have totally misunderstood the god.
We should have built great temples in his name,
And honored him with holy sacrifice,
But we neglect him most abominably.
So I will try to teach this group the truth . . .
In my most serious manner . . . you will see.                 650
Then you must go teach others.  On your word!

ERYXIMACHUS
You mean that you intend converting us
To some peculiar nonsense?  I protest!

ARISTOPHANES
Instruct, my friend, as you've instructed me.
And first, I must instruct you all about
The nature and the history of man.
For men have not been always what they are.
Oh, no!  In the beginning they were proud,
Were very different from our present men.
There were three sexes then, not just our two,              660
The male and the female, yes, but then a third,
A sex with all the features drawn from both
The other sexes--but a sex now gone,
Which leaves us but the name, "hermaphrodite,"
Which those of us who know its history
Are sad to see a title of reproach.  [Pause.]
And human shape was very different, too,
For all of them were absolutely round,
With back and ribs that formed a circle . . .  so . . . [Gestures.] They had four arms . . .

ERYXIMACHUS
                       And probably four legs . . .                      670

ARISTOPHANES
And on one head two faces . . . both alike,
But opposite each other . . .

ERYXIMACHUS
                                      . . . and four ears?

AGATHON
And two sex organs?

ARISTOPHANES
[Laughs.]                    Yes, you're catching on.
And they walked upright . . . any way they wished.
Direction didn't matter.  And, to run,
They rolled, extending quickly as they did
The ends of all eight limbs, as tumblers do.
As to the sexes, there were three, I think,
Because the male was offspring of the sun,
The female of the earth, the common sex                      680
The offspring of the moon, which, as you know,
Combines both male and female . . . doesn't it?
Their shape was round because their parents were.
They had tremendous strength, as you might guess,
And great ambitions, which, then, brought them down,
For, in their hubris, they attacked the gods,
Tried climbing Mount Olympus finally.

ERYXIMACHUS
My, my!  How terrible!  What happened then?

ARISTOPHANES
Well, Zeus and all the other gods were there,
And held a council . . . for it baffled them.                   690
"These creatures are presumptuous in extreme!"
"They can not be allowed to carry on
In this wild way."  "I say they must be killed,
Struck down by thunderbolts, or drowned by floods."
"But then all sacrifices to the gods
Will stop, won't they?"  Then, after much debate,
Zeus, in a sudden inspiration, said,
"I know a way to get them to behave
Without exterminating all of them.
I'll just slice every one of them in two--                         700
Right down the middle!  Like you do a pear!
They'll be too weak to keep this warfare up,
And there'll be twice as many after that
To make their sacrificial gifts to us.
I'll let them still walk upright, on two legs,
Unless they should continue this assault--
For then I'll slice them all in two again,
And have them hop about on just one leg,
Like boys on greasy wine skins at the fair."
And so he did.  He sliced each one in two,                   710
Right down the middle, like you might a plum,
A berry, or perhaps a hard-boiled egg.
Then, as he sliced, he had Apollo turn
The face and half the neck toward the cut,
To serve as a reminder of what was,
And heal the rest, according to his art.
Apollo did this skillfully, of course;
He gathered up the skin and drew it taut,
Into one little mouth, just like a purse
[Demonstrates.]
That you pull shut with little leather strings,                  720
Across the belly, as it now is called,
To fasten everything at what became
The belly button.  Yes, please have a look.
It makes you realize how close we came.
To smooth the wrinkles he then used a tool
That cobblers often use to work on shoes,
But, yes, around the belly button . . . there . . .
[Pointing.]
He left a few, reminding all of us
What human folly had resulted in.

ERYXIMACHUS
The trauma was terrific, I suspect!                                 730

ARISTOPHANES
And double that!  Each half was traumatized!
None could accept that they were separate.
In desperation they still threw their arms
Around each other, wanting to grow back,
Regain that form that Zeus had cut apart.
Some soon began to die . . . to starve to death.
When one half died, the half that had survived
Was much distraught, and anxiously would seek
Another anxious half of that same kind,
The half of woman or the half of man,                          740
And they would live in permanent embrace.
But  Zeus observed that all were perishing,
And, taking pity on them, soon devised
Another scheme . . .

ERYXIMACHUS
                                Which shows his cleverness.

ARISTOPHANES
Yes . . .wait and see how clever Zeus could be.
You know their genitals had been outside,
And they had both begotten and brought forth
Not with each other but with Mother Earth,
Like the cicadas do.  He moved these parts
All to the front, and  generation now                             750
Became between the male and female sex,
So that in their embrace they might beget--
If man met woman--and the race survive.
If man met man they might be satisfied
And rest, when once the passion had been spent,
Might find the daily business of life
Important once again.  And so, you see,
This love of man for man is very old,
A force for reuniting separate parts
Of that original body man once had,                              760
To bring it back together, serve desire,
And find once more its natural unity.

ARISTODEMOS
So each of us is only half a man,
Sliced like a flatfish!

ARISTOPHANES
                               Yes, my friend, that's right.
And Love's the search to find our other half.
Those men who are a cutting of the old
Hermaphrodite, pursue a female half,
Those women, too, you'll see pursue the male.
Those women who are females cut in two
Pursue some other woman, naturally,                            770
And men who are a cutting of the male
Make love to other men.  These last, as boys,
Are drawn to men, and want to lie with them,
Recover unity in deep embrace.
We know them as the very best of boys.
Some call them shameless, but it's manly force,
And boldness, courage, spirit, love of sports,
That draw them to their mirror images.
As they grow older, most are active men,
Disposed to be engaged in public life.                           780
Then they, in turn, are drawn to handsome boys,
Would not consider marriage as a choice--
With women, family, children in their lives--
If law and custom didn't force them to.
They'd rather live together, man and boy,
As lover and beloved, in perfect bliss . . .
Though it is not the physical alone
That offers them delight . . . such happiness.

PHAEDRUS
Perhaps the soul, as well,  pursues its mate.

ARISTOPHANES
Exactly!  It pursues its other half.                                  790
Suppose such lovers lay in close embrace,
And, as they did, the god Hephaestus came
With all his special tools and said to them,
"I'll weld you two together, if you'd like,
So you may share one body while you live,
And, when you die, may still exist as one,
To enter as one soul among the Dead."
If offered that, we know that not a one . . .
No, not a single lover . . . would refuse,
For that would mean returning to the state                    800
Of their original being . . . going home.
As consequence of misbehavior, we
Were sliced in two, and, if we don't behave,
We could be sliced in two again, you know.
We'd have to hop around in bas-relief,
Like carvings on a tombstone, sawed right through
The nose--as I now slice this grape in two.
Be careful to pay honor to the gods,
To make quite sure that we escape that fate.
And if you wish to be united with                                  810
Your other half, become whole men again,
A rare experience, you must admit,
Then honor Eros most, the god of Love.

ERYXIMACHUS
He helps us each to find his other half?
Amazing!

ARISTOPHANES
                    Yes, it is, but gentlemen,
Now don't let Eryximachus make fun
Of my poor speech, and say I'm speaking of
Aristodemos . . . or you, Agathon.
I wouldn't be surprised to find you are
Both cuttings of the male, but I speak now                    820
About mankind in general, for we all--
To find ourselves--must go where Eros leads.
It's true.  We must depend upon the god
To guide each lover to the right beloved,
The one who then completes his unity.
So, if we honor Eros as we should,
He'll heal those primal wounds, restoring us
To our lost ancient state, forever blessed.
So there's my speech in praise of Eros, friends.
Yes, Eryximachus, I must admit,                                   830
It really was quite different from yours,
But don't demand too much profundity.
The experts--as you know--are yet to come.

ERYXIMACHUS
No . . . I suppose I'll have to let you off.
I did enjoy that story.  And I learned
Where belly buttons came from, didn't I?
Whenever I see mine, I'll think of that.
And if I didn't know that Socrates
And Agathon are--just as you have said--
The final experts in the art of Love                               840
I'd think they might have nothing left to say.

SOCRATES
Ah, Eryximachus, if that's true now,
Imagine the position I'll be in,
To have to speak when Agathon is done.
Will he leave anything at all to say?

AGATHON
Stop that!  You try to put a spell on me!
Just like you, Socrates, to vex the mind
With thinking everyone can now expect
A wonderful encomium from me!

SOCRATES
My memory would be defective, then,                          850
If I thought this small group--all such good friends--
Would give you pause, for just three days ago
I saw your courage manifested . . . when
You stood upon the platform, all alone,
And faced that huge and awesome audience in
The public theatre, where your tragedies,
Were soon to be displayed for all to see,
Without the slightest sign you'd run away.

AGATHON
Now, Socrates, you surely cannot think
That I'm so full of theatre posturing                               860
That I don't know that these few men, with minds,
Are more imposing than that noisy crowd
That fills the theatre--but not with their minds!

SOCRATES
I'd never think of you, dear Agathon,
As undiscriminating.  But, you see,
That nice distinction can't apply to us,
For we were there, were members of that crowd.
But if you found yourself among the wise
I'm sure that you'd be careful not to do
A thing you took to be dishonorable.                             870
Is that not true?

AGATHON
                           Yes, Socrates, quite true.

SOCRATES
Before that mindless theatre crowd, as well,
Would you not be ashamed to do a thing
That you believed to be dishonorable?

PHAEDRUS
Now, Agathon, if you respond to him,
What happens to our speeches praising Love?
You know that Socrates won't care at all,
So long as there's someone to argue with,
Especially someone handsome, young, and bright.
We all like hearing Socrates dispute,                             880
But we agreed each one to do his best
To speak in praise of Eros, god of Love.
Then, once you pay that debt, you may dispute
Throughout the night, if that amuses you.

AGATHON
[With a relieved laugh.]
You're quite right, Phaedrus.  I'm prepared to speak.
And Socrates will be available
When I have greater leisure . . . after that.  [Pause.]
First, let me speak about the proper form
For speeches of this kind.  For no one has
Presented what might properly be called                       890
A real encomium to Eros yet.
You have congratulated humankind
On all the good the god has done for it,
Neglecting to describe the god himself.
The proper form for an encomium--
Of Eros, or of anybody else--
Is to describe the subject's nature first,
Praise him for what he is, then what he does.
[The others nod and wink.]
All of the gods are happy, certainly,
But still--and I say this without offense--                      900
Young Eros is the happiest of all,
Most beautiful, and best.

PHAEDRUS
                                         You call him "young"?

AGATHON
Yes, Phaedrus, he's the youngest of the gods,
Not oldest, as you'd ask us to believe--.
And this he proves by flying off full speed
From that eternal recreant Old Age,
Himself a quick one, since he comes too soon
To all of us.  Love hates the very thought
Of growing old, by instinct shies away,
Conspiring with the young, with his own kind.              910
[Pause.]  Not only is he young, he's tender, too.
We really need a poet to describe
The tenderness of Eros, god of Love,
As Homer does so well when he describes
The tenderness of Ate . . . or her feet  . . .
"So tender are her feet; they come not near
The ground, but walk upon the heads of men."
The proof of tenderness resides in that;
Ate takes care to walk on something soft,
Not something hard. The same is true of Love,             920
Who walks not on the ground--nor heads of men,
Which really aren't so soft.  Love will reside
In much the softest things there ever were,
The souls of gods and men.  And not all souls.
Ah, no, indeed!  If he should meet a soul
That's hard or mean of temper he departs,
But where it's soft and gentle he abides.
And so, you see, he's both the youngest god
And, judged by where he dwells, the tenderest.

[Again the others exchange nods and glances.]
He's also most elusive, for, if not,                                  930
He couldn't gain admittance everywhere,
Completely penetrate the deepest soul,
And come and go unnoticed, should he choose.
And he's most graceful, too, for war exists
Between the slightest gracelessness and Love.
He's drawn to things in flower, as we know,
Attracted by the beauty and display,
For where there is no flower--or it's gone,
In body or in soul--in anything--
Love tarries not.  But where the flower blooms,           940
Its fragrance full, he settles and abides.

PHAEDRUS
It seems that Love is quite selective then.

AGATHON
He is indeed.  [Pause.]  I'll list his virtues next,
And justice is the principal of these.
For Eros cannot wrong, nor god nor man,
And is not wronged by either one of them.
He cannot be unjust, for everyone
Will serve Love willingly, with full consent,
And what one does with full consent is just.  [Pause.]
The god of Love is temperate as well.                           950
Defining temperance, we'd all agree
That it involves the mastery and control
Of pleasure and desire, certainly,
And that no pleasure or desire can be
Stronger than Love.  If Love is strongest, then,
It must be able to control the rest,
So will, therefore, be far more temperate.

PHAEDRUS
And I suppose he has most courage, too.

AGATHON
He has more courage than the god of War,
For it's not Ares' force that masters Love,                     960
But Love that masters Ares, we are told--
His love of Aphrodite, Homer says,
And all the ancient legends say the same.
If he who masters is the stronger god,
The master of the most courageous god
Is thereby most courageous, isn't he?
[Pause.]  And having now established he's most just . . .
Most temperate . . . and most courageous, too . . .
That only leaves his wisdom to appraise.
If Aristophanes will tolerate                                           970
[Bowing to Aristophanes.]
My honoring our humble art this way . . .
As Eryximachus has honored his . . .
I claim that Eros, as a poet,  is
So wise that he grants wisdom to us all,
For everyone whom Eros touches soon
Becomes a poet, even one who had,
Before that touch, no music in his soul.
So Eros must be master poet, right?
For what one doesn't have he cannot give.
Of all creation  Eros is the source--                               980
Since every living thing enjoys its life
Begotten by the blissful force of Love--
But excellence in any art is due
Especially to Eros.  Art depends
On inspiration, which depends on Love--
At least for works that are illustrious.
We know where art has not been touched by Love,
Then mediocrity and darkness reign.
And all the gifts to man from all the gods,
Like archery, prognostic, medicine,                               990
Invented by Apollo--but for man--
The music of the Muses, poetry,
The metal work Hephaestus teaches us,
The weaving of Athena for the home,
The "pilotage of gods and men" of Zeus,
May all be said to have as origin
The fact that Eros came among the gods.
Before he came, Necessity was law,
A savage and destructive principle,
The source of many terrible events                              1000
Among the gods--or so the story goes.
But with the birth of Eros there arrived
A period of peace and harmony,
Commitment to the good and beautiful,
Inspired by him, ennobling gods and men.
[Pause.]  Thus, Phaedrus, and respected, honored guests,
I claim that Eros is the first among
All beings, for, most beautiful and best,
He's cause of what is beautiful and best
In others.  I feel moved to verse myself,                      1010
To say that he . . . that Eros, god of Love . . .

            Brings Peace to dwell with gods and men
                 Spreads calm upon the deep;
            He stills our restless souls . . . and then . . .
                 Sweet dreams brings when we sleep.

Love purges our antagonistic rage,
And fills us with the spirit of good will.
Presiding over joyful gatherings--
Feasts such as this, the dances of the town,
Our happy sacrifices to the gods--                               1020
While introducing civil gentleness,
And banishing the savagery of beasts.
To those he favors, Love brings great delight,
And sorrow to the ones that he neglects.
The father of all grace and luxury,
Of daintiness, and longing, and desire,
Preserver of all things that we admire,
And nemesis of hardship, fear, and greed,
Of drunkenness, and all that we despise,
A pilot, comrade, loyal defender, too,                         1030
The best of saviors, marching on ahead,
As those who seek the good and beautiful
Fall in behind, all echoing his song,
Their voices raised in heavenly harmony,
Designed to charm the minds of gods and men.
[Pause.]  There, Phaedrus, my encomium on Love.
Accept it, please, as I have offered it,
In part in the high humor of this feast,
Defined by those who spoke before I did,
But, yes, in part in modest seriousness . . .                  1040
Reflecting my devotion to the god--
The best that I can do extempore.  [General applause.]

SOCRATES
[To Eryximachus.]  Now, son of Acumenos, was I wrong
To fear the fears I feared?  When I remarked
That Agathon would give a splendid speech,
And leave me here with nothing more to say?

ERYXIMACHUS
Yes to the first . . . about the splendid speech.
But if that leaves you speechless, or in awe
Of what's been said, then I'll be quite surprised.
 

SOCRATES
But, after that grand speech, what's left to say?          1050
For everything was in it--everything!
The opening part was wonderful enough,
But then the end!  The beauty of the words,
The diction and the phrasing!  Honestly!
How overwhelming!  Leaving me in shock.
I won't be able to compete with that,
For I have nothing fine to say at all.
When I first understood that that was so
I thought I might slip out and run away.

[Looking at Agathon, but deadpan.]
The speech reminded me of Gorgias, too,                    1060
And, I admit, I was a bit afraid
That, as in Homer's story, Agathon
Might--at that finish--hold up Gorgias' head,
To stifle all debate, and strike me dumb!
I saw how rash I'd been then to agree
To take my turn in praising Eros here,
Present myself to you as well informed
In matters touching Love, when now it seems
I cannot even build a proper speech,
Construct a sound encomium to him.                           1070
In ignorance I thought that we should speak
The truth, and I thought I'd do well enough--
Because, on Love, I think I know the truth.
Instead, in protest, I must now withdraw.
I can't deliver such a eulogy.
A glowing speech is far beyond my power.
[Pause.]  Now, if you like, I still could tell the truth,
But after my own fashion, not like this,
In rivalry with your fine speeches here,
For, following Agathon, I'd seem absurd--                   1080
Of course you'd laugh at me, as I'd deserve.
So tell me, Phaedrus, will this company
Endure the truth about the god of Love
In any words we choose as we proceed?

PHAEDRUS
Yes, Socrates, speak as you wish . . . of course.

[The others join in miscellaneous good-natured agreement.]
SOCRATES
Then I'll proceed.  But, first . . . to clear the ground.
My dear friend Agathon, I thought that you
Were right in the beginning of your speech,
To say that one should first describe the god
Before considering the things he does.                        1090
That way of starting out I much admire.
And you described him brilliantly, of course.
But tell me this, if we're to speak of Love,
Love is a love of something, is it not?
As we might ask of "father" in this way,
"Of something, or of nothing?"  You'd reply,
"A father is a father of a son . . .
Or of a daughter,"  I suppose.  Correct?

AGATHON
Yes, that is true . . . the father of a son.

SOCRATES
Another question, please.  "A brother, now,               1100
Is brother then of something, isn't he?"

AGATHON
A brother or a sister, I suppose.

SOCRATES
Then how of Eros?  Isn't Love a love
Of something, not of nothing, after all?

AGATHON
Love is a love of something . . . certainly.

SOCRATES
Well then, keep that in mind, friend Agathon.
Consider what Love's object seems to be,
And tell us whether Love desires it.

AGATHON
Well, yes . . . he does . . . desires what he loves.

SOCRATES
And is it when he has what he desires                         1110
That he most loves it, or when he does not?

AGATHON
Most likely when he does not have the thing.

SOCRATES
Consider that a moment.  When you say,
"Most likely,"  is "most likely" strong enough?
Is it not "necessarily" the case
That one desires what he thinks he lacks,
Not what he has?  That that's where Love is born.
That's what I think.  What do you say to that?

AGATHON
I think so, too.
 

SOCRATES
                         It seems so obvious,
Why would the strong desire to be strong,                   1120
Or one who's swift desire to be swift,
Desiring something he already has?

AGATHON
He wouldn't.  Not considered in this light.

SOCRATES
Some might affirm the strong still want their strength,
The swift their speed, the healthy their good health--
Desire to possess the things they have--
But we must not confuse ourselves that way,
For all that have the good things they have now
Possess them if they want those things or not.
They may wish to continue to possess                         1130
The things they have--but surely have no need
To feel desire for those things.  Do they?
Desire has to do with future things--
Men love those things they do not yet possess.

AGATHON
Yes, so it would appear.

SOCRATES
                                       Then we're agreed,
That Love is love of something that one lacks,
And everyone who has desires desires
What he is not and what he has not . . . yet.

AGATHON
Yes, Socrates, on that we are agreed.

SOCRATES
This being granted, now recall your speech,                1140
And what you saw the aims of Love to be.
I think you said the actions of the gods
Are set in motion by the things they love
And things of beauty, never ugly things,
For never could the gods love ugly things.

AGATHON
I think I did say something much like that.

SOCRATES
Yes, Agathon, and very reasonably
Identifying Eros with the love
Of things of beauty, not of ugliness?

AGATHON
That's right.

SOCRATES
                      And if he lacks the things he loves,        1150
He must lack beauty.  Wouldn't that be so?

AGATHON
Yes, that would seem to follow . . . I agree.

SOCRATES
Can what lacks beauty still be beautiful?

AGATHON
No, probably not.
 
 

SOCRATES
                               Then do you still maintain
That Eros, god of Love, is beautiful?

AGATHON
I hardly dare maintain a single thing,
For everything I said before has now
Come back to haunt me.

SOCRATES
                                           Oh no, Agathon,
You made a splendid speech!   But one thing more.
Do you believe that all things that are good                 1160
Must then be beautiful as well?

AGATHON
                                                     I do.

SOCRATES
Well, then, if Eros isn't beautiful,
And good things must be beautiful as well,
Don't you agree that he must not be good.

AGATHON
I cannot contradict you, Socrates.
So I agree it must be as you say.

SOCRATES
Now there's no problem contradicting me--
You cannot contradict the truth, my friend.
But, if you'd like,  I'll now leave you in peace,
For I recall a speech that I once heard                       1170
From Diotima, of Mantineia,
Concerning Eros and his attributes.
Yes, Diotima . . . she was very wise
In this and many other grave concerns.
Convincing us in Athens, years ago,
To properly perform the sacrifice,
She managed to avoid the plague for years.
[Pause.]  She was the one who tutored me in Love,
And I remember our discussion well . . .
At least I think I do . . . and we shall see.                   1180
I'll try to re create it for you now.

[He looks off in space, becoming reflective as he goes on.]
As I remember she had questioned me
In much the way I've questioned Agathon,
For I'd begun by praising Eros, too,
In just such terms as Agathon had used,
Maintaining he's the greatest god of all,
His beauty imaged in the beautiful,
And she had argued, as you see I've done,
That he is neither beautiful nor good,
Provoking me to finally ask her then,                        1190
"In that case, Diotima, what is he?
Is Eros bad and ugly . . . and a god?"
[The light shifts to where Socrates is looking, discovering Diotima.  He moves to her as she speaks.]
DIOTIMA
For shame!  Is all that is not good then bad,
And ugly if it is not beautiful?

SOCRATES
I would think so.

DIOTIMA
                               And do you think as well
That all who are not wise are ignorant?
Take those who have a right opinion now . . .
Who still cannot explain why it is right.
We cannot call this wisdom, certainly,
For wisdom knows the reasons it is right,                    1200
Nor is it ignorance.  How can it be
A kind of ignorance to know the truth?
No, right opinion is a thing between . . .
Between pure knowledge and gross ignorance.
Don't you agree?

SOCRATES
                              Yes, Diotima, but . . .

DIOTIMA
And this is just the case with Eros, too.
He's neither good nor beautiful himself,
As you have just admitted, but I say
This doesn't necessarily mean he's bad,
Or ugly--for there is a state between.                           1210

SOCRATES
But everyone admits that he's a god.

DIOTIMA
[Laughing.]  Just those who don't know better, Socrates,
For some would say he's not a god at all.

SOCRATES
Is not a god at all!  And who says that?

DIOTIMA
Well, you for one, and, for another, me.
Would either of us dare to say a god
Is neither good nor beautiful himself,
But still desires most things known as good,
Pursuing beauty as the lustful might.

SOCRATES
No . . . I confess . . . I wouldn't dare say that.              1220

DIOTIMA
Yet you admitted that this "god" of Love
Desired what was good and beautiful
Because he did not have them, didn't you?
Then how could such a creature be a god?

SOCRATES
It seems he couldn't.  But if not a god,
What is he then?  A mortal, just like us?

DIOTIMA
No, not at all.  As in these other ways,
He's something in between, not man or god,
A mediating spirit to them both.
Residing in that esoteric realm                                     1230
That lies between the mortal and divine.
Since gods will seldom deign to talk to men,
The usual communion taking place,
Activities of priesthood, mysteries,
All divination, sacrifice, and such--
With witchcraft, incantation, sorcery--
Is through such subtle spirits--which we need.
And he who is initiate in these things
Has spiritual awareness, as we know,
While he who's not initiate has none.                           1240
Now there are many spirits in this realm,
But Eros is the greatest of them all.

SOCRATES
But who were then his parents, if not gods?

DIOTIMA
An interesting story, Socrates,
Which helps explain how Eros comes to be
Linked fast to Aphrodite in the myths.
Soon after Aphrodite had been born
The gods all gathered for her birthday feast.
One of the gods was Plenty . . . and got drunk . . .
The happy son of Ingenuity,                                        1250
He drank too much rare nectar at the feast.
Then, as they dined, along came Poverty,
Drawn by the food, and begging at the door.
The gods would not allow her in, of course,
But suffered her to linger in the yard,
Awaiting random opportunity.
Well, there came Plenty, heavy still with drink,
And stumbling from the palace of the gods
To fall asleep upon the spacious lawn,
Where Poverty, just waiting for the chance,               1260
Took rare advantage of the drunken god,
Conceiving Eros through her appetite.
So Eros then became a servant to
The goddess Aphrodite, having been
Begotten at her special birthday feast.
And as the son of Plenty, unbeknownst,
And Poverty, with her great appetite,
Inherits traits of character from both.
Instead of being soft and beautiful,
As many think, he's hard, unshod, and rough,             1270
A homeless vagrant, lying on the ground,
Or sleeping by the door, or in the street,
Without a sign of bedding, or a cloak,
And, like his mother, constantly in want.
But from his father he inherits taste,
A taste for all that's beautiful and good.
High strung and brave, determined in the hunt,
And weaving new devices in the chase,
His appetites are never satisfied.
As one who covets wisdom, he will play                     1280
The games of sophists or philosophers.
Eternal in pursuit, with raw desire,
He is one moment blooming and alive
Then dying at another, in despair,
Imbibing life anew from Plenty's stock,
To let it slip away, like Poverty,
Always between extremes of want and wealth,
Of ignorance and wisdom . . . much like us.
If he had been a god he would be wise
And have no need for our philosophy.                         1290
Nor would he search for wisdom if he were
As truly ignorant as most men are . . .
For that's the hopeless state of ignorance,
To be self-satisfied--a kind of bliss--
Not even knowing what its spirit lacks.

SOCRATES
Yes, "hopeless" is the word for such a state.

DIOTIMA
So we agree he's not one of the gods,
But, may we say,  the first philosopher?
All true philosophers take after him,
Are neither wise nor ignorant, you see.                       1300
They differ from the truly ignorant,
In that they know they are not truly wise . . .
So envy wisdom gods alone possess.

SOCRATES
If I accept this story of his birth,
What you have said about his origin,
His nature and desires--defining Love--
Of what use is he to the human race?

DIOTIMA
[Laughs.]  To ask this first philosopher . . . his use?
If Eros loves the beautiful and good,
Why not define those concepts first of all--                 1310
Ask what they are, and what their value is?
What does the lover of these values seek?

SOCRATES
The standard answer, then, is happiness.

DIOTIMA
If we accept that answer it might seem
We need proceed no further, Socrates,
For everyone agrees that happiness
Is, in itself, an end for which to strive.
But it's not easy to define that term.
Most love may well aspire to happiness,
And yet not all who search for happiness                    1320
Are lovers, in the standard forms of speech.
Not those who seek it through financial gain,
Through sports, through fame . . . or through philosophy.
Nor does this new confusion end with that.
You may know that old myth concerning Love--
That lovers seek to find their other half--
But not just any other half they meet;
It must be one that they consider good,
For they would cut off their own hands or feet
If they appeared corrupt to them.  No one                   1330
Desires anything except the good.
We meet with these distinctions everywhere,
And should apply them in this argument
To keep us from confusion, Socrates--
A constant problem when we deal with Love.
But tell me now, if Love is the desire
To have the good, then how is it pursued?

SOCRATES
Well that's exactly why I've come to you!
To be instructed in these ways of Love.

DIOTIMA
Well, then, I must reveal the mystery . . .                    1340
[Laughs.]  Reward your faith in me.  Love is pursued
Through procreation in the beautiful . . .
The beautiful in body and in soul.

SOCRATES
Now that sounds like an oracle to me,
For I don't understand.  You must explain . . .

DIOTIMA
Of course.  But first address that principle.
Regard all men as pregnant, Socrates,
In body, yes, but equally in soul.
And when they come of age their natural urge
Is to beget--but in the beautiful,                                   1350
Not ever in the ugly or grotesque.
Such procreation must involve a spark
Of the divine.  It offers mortal man
A godly touch of immortality.
Since ugliness can never be divine,
At all conception beauty must preside,
For when the pregnant creature first perceives
A thing of beauty, he becomes beguiled,
A mighty agitation is provoked,
As lines of deep attraction draw him on.                     1360
The impulse  to possess the beautiful,
The flowing out of procreative force
In circumstances of intense delight,
Provide relief from kinds of agony.
But when the pregnant creature passes near
An ugly thing, he is repelled by it,
Just quickly shrinking back into himself.
Is Love pursuing beauty as an end?
No.  Procreation in the beautiful . . .
Which is, for mortal creatures, that great good,           1370
A little share of immortality.
That this applies to everything that lives,
Not only man, you've noticed, certainly,
For animals, the birds and beasts alike,
Get in a dreadful state when it is time
To procreate--at first to find a mate,
And then to find the food to feed their young.

SOCRATES
Yes, they're prepared to fight--or die--for them,
The weakest challenging the strongest foe,
To suffer agonies, to starve themselves,                      1380
If necessary, to protect their young.

DIOTIMA
We might ascribe such  actions to design,
A rational calculation made by men,
The preservation of the species planned
By human reason.  But in animals?
When creatures lacking reason act the same,
Their mortal nature must by instinct seek
Their immortality . . . through giving birth . . .
By leaving something young to take their place.
And just consider this.  Each living thing                     1390
Is thought to have identity in life.
So Socrates is said to be the same
From boyhood, for example, to old age,
But things in him are changing every day,
Continually becoming something new,
In losing and replacing various parts
Like hair and nails and flesh and bones and blood.
Not only with the body; but the soul--
It changes, too.  Its pleasures and desires,
Opinions, manners, pains, and even fears--                 1400
We know that none of these remains the same;
Some perish so that others can be born.
And, even stranger, so with knowledge, too;
Some kinds of knowledge perish, some are born--
Within each kind it seems there' s constant change.
This is the way that mortal things endure,
Not by remaining constantly the same,
As things immortal do--the stars, the gods--
But by renewing and replacing self,
So what grows old may die, but leaves behind            1410
A thing that bears its image, like a mirror.
And by this means alone, mortality
Partakes of god-like immortality,
In body and in soul--because of Love.
So do not be surprised that everything
Loves its own off spring.  Immortality
Is what this love is all directed toward.

SOCRATES
An interesting thesis you propose.

DIOTIMA
And one that's hardly open to dispute.
Consider the irrationality                                             1420
Of human aspiration otherwise.
It's absolutely baffling if you don't
Accept the motivation I've described:
The human search for immortality
Through procreation in the beautiful.
For men admit of any risk at all
To help insure their own eternal fame,
But even more to keep their children safe.
They'll spend their wealth or suffer misery,
Will finally die--so that their sons may live.                1430
For such a fame as brave Alcestis won,
The honor of Achilles after death,
Ambitious men would suffer anything,
Led by their love of immortality.
And those whose pregnancy is physical
Will turn to woman to beget a child,
Securing for themselves, or so they think,
Both immortality and memory.
But those whose pregnancy is of the soul,
Though fewer far, must seek a kindred soul,               1440
Fulfill their nature by begetting thought,
Their progeny ideas . . . given life.

SOCRATES
Such as our tragic poets might devise,
Or artists, craftsmen, men of vision might.

DIOTIMA
Yes, all who strive to exercise the soul . . .
And leave some evidence of that behind.
An even greater wisdom of this kind,
Which flows from justice and from temperance,
And is most beautiful, is that which leads
To ordering of cities and of homes.                              1450
A man with such divinity in him,
Whose soul from youth is pregnant with these things,
Desires to beget and procreate
Things of this kind, and to this noble end
He may be drawn to bodies beautiful,
But how much more to generous, well-bred souls,
And most of all to both of them combined--
A body and a soul both beautiful,
With which he can beget those noble things.
The two of them, engaged in procreation,                   1460
Are intimate, maintain a closer bond
Than parents of most children ever can,
Because their off-spring can't compete with those . . .
In beauty or in immortality.

SOCRATES
Yes, any man would much prefer to have
Those children that a Homer, Aeschylus,
Or other major poet left behind.
Such off-spring have brought them immortal fame.
The children of Lycurgus are the laws
He left to Sparta . . . and the rest of Greece.                1470

DIOTIMA
And, in your city, Solon begat laws,
And other Greeks, and some barbarians,
In other places and in other times,
Have given birth to works called beautiful
And virtuous long after they are dead,
And shrines are built to keep the memory
Of fathers of such children still alive.
No man has ever been so honored for
His mortal off-spring . . . has he, Socrates?

SOCRATES
Not that I know.  And surely men like those--             1480
Lycurgus, Homer, Solon--earned such praise,
In procreating children of that kind.

DIOTIMA
[Laughing.]  Well, Socrates, you show some promise in
These lesser mysteries of Love.  But now,
The higher revelations, still to come,
Are more demanding . . . open to the few.

SOCRATES
I've come to you to learn the ways of Love.

DIOTIMA
I'll do my best to teach you what I know,
If you'll attend to me.  First, one who seeks
To master Love's profounder mysteries                       1490
Should start with bodies when he still is young,
And search for beauty in the physical.
And yes, each body is particular,
Its beauty dazzling the beholder's eye.
But then he'll come to see each body's charm
As grounded in a universal Form,
That reaching for its essence will require
Discovery of what all such bodies share,
And he'll become the lover of that Form--
Abstracting what is beautiful in all                               1500
Will mute his passion for each special one.
Next, he must learn that beauty of the soul
Is of more worth than beauty eyes can see,
So when he finds a lofty, noble soul,
He'll want to cultivate its elegance,
Embrace transcendent value incarnate--
Embodied in our laws and customs, too--
And he will come to see the physical,
All beauty mirrored in the one he loves,
As relatively insignificant.                                           1510
Next, from this right opinion he must move
To knowledge that is truly genuine,
Directing his desire by that Form
Of Beauty--or Idea of the Form--
No longer loving mere particulars--
One woman, or one boy, or one pursuit--
Should exercise his mind and spirit through
Abstract ideas of the beautiful,
Until arriving at the final goal--
That knowledge of pure Beauty in itself                      1520
I'll now describe.  So listen carefully.

SOCRATES
You could not lose me now.

DIOTIMA
                                                I hope that's true.
Whoever shall submit to Eros, then,
Be guided in the mysteries of Love
To contemplate pure Beauty, as a Form,
Will finally look up and see that Form,
Behold a Beauty marvelous and real.
This Beauty cannot ever be revealed
As something physical--a face, or shape,
A body that's appealing to the eyes--                           1530
Nor as a simple construct of the mind--
A science, or derivative design--
Nor as inhering by necessity
In anything.  At last he'll comprehend
The Form in its pristine simplicity.
All things of beauty must partake of this,
Must draw their quality from this pure Form,
But, as particulars are born and die,
The Form of Beauty doesn't change a bit,
From first to last remaining what it is.                          1540
Our lover, starting with the love of boys,
Has mounted upwards, as if climbing stairs,
From one to two, from two to all of them--
All bodies beautiful--and then from those
To souls and actions that are beautiful,
From actions to ideas that are good,
Until arriving at the final goal
Of Beauty Absolute, eternal, pure,
Seen in its full perfection as a Form.
Attaining that great secret is the end,                           1550
The mystery of Eros most profound.
It's far more precious than the purest gold,
Or costly garments, or those precious boys--
Things that, in borrowed beauty, fascinate,
Provoking your desire here and now,
Adulterated though they are with flesh
And blood, and other mortal qualities--
The limits of all art, or time, or thought.
To see such Beauty pure and undefiled--
A man might consecrate his life to that!                      1560

[Diotima gazes off into space as she concludes, and as Socrates returns to his seat by Agathon.]
The contemplation of the Absolute,
Then makes it possible to procreate,
Not images of Beauty . . . twice removed . . .
But Beauty in itself . . . a god-like act.
When one has such an off-spring, nurtured it,
And offered it as gift to other men,
Will not that man be granted, by the gods,
Their friendship, and their immortality,
Become a god . . . if any man can be?
[She falls reflective.  The light goes down on her as Socrates, back in his seat, speaks to the others.]
SOCRATES
Well, there you have it, Phaedrus, gentlemen,            1570
What Diotima said to me on Love.
I found it quite convincing, and, in turn,
I try convincing others of its truth--
That there is not a better guide than Love
If they are seeking that most perfect state
Of procreation in the beautiful . . .
A mortal's chance at immortality.
[General applause.]

ARISTOPHANES
That's splendid, Socrates!  But I insist,
That slighting reference to the tale I told
About the origin of early men                                      1580
Must not remain unchallenged . . . I protest . . .
[Knocking and sounds of revelry.]

AGATHON
There, boy!  Are you awake?  Well, go and see
What noise that is.  And if it's made by friends . . .
Then ask them in.  If not, then tell them that
We're not in any mood for drunken songs,
Are sober and about to go to bed.

BOY
Yes sir.  About to go to bed.  I will.  [Goes off.]

ALCIBIADES
[Off stage, drunk and loud.]
Where's Agathon?  Take me to Agathon!

[Etc.  He is led in by the boy, crowned with a thick wreath of ribbons, having draped some on the boy.]
Good evening, friends!  Good evening!  Well . . . my, my.
What have I fallen into here?  All dead?                      1590
A group of sober, serious gentlemen.
Will you invite a very drunken man
To drink with you?  Or I'll crown Agathon
With garlands, as I came to do . . . and go.
I must do that, at least, to honor him,
This cleverest, most beautiful, of men.
And do you laugh at me because I'm drunk?
You know that what I say is still quite true.
Tell me directly, do I stay or go?
Don't be afraid you'll be offending me.                        1600

AGATHON
Stay, Alcibiades. And, please, sit down!
[As all welcome him.]
You're always welcome here with me, you know,
If drunk or sober . . . with the others, too.
[To the boy.]  Bring Alcibiades something to eat,
And take his shoes.  Come here and sit by me.

[Pulling off his crown of ribbons to put on Agathon, Alcibiades sits down between him and Socrates, Socrates making room, before Alcibiades sees who it is.]
ALCIBIADES
I love you as a poet, Agathon,
But you're a gracious host, as well, I see.
[Looking around.]
Excellent company.
[Seeing Socrates and jumping up.]
                                    But who is this?
It's Socrates!  You lay in wait for me!
You're everywhere . . . just where I least expect!
And always find a way to get the place                       1610
Beside the most attractive, youngest man,
Not Aristophanes . . . clear over there . . .
Or Eryximachus . . . here by himself.

SOCRATES
Now, Agathon, defend me!  I'm afraid
This man's rude love will be a problem here.
Since I declared my ardent love for him
I can no longer talk to younger men,
Or even look at any handsome man--
No, not a single one--or this man here,
This jealous creature, then abuses me,                         1620
Insults me, as you all have seen him do,
And hardly keeps from laying hands on me.
Don't let him plead that drink will be the cause.
Make peace between us . . . for I'm terrified
At what mad passion--in this state--might do.

ALCIBIADES
No peace between us!  No, I'll make you pay
For sitting here by Agathon all right!
But give some of those ribbons back to me,
To crown the head of Socrates!  Now there!
Now he can't pick a quarrel with both of us,               1630
By claiming I crowned you, neglecting him . . .
This man who always beats . . . well, everyone . . .
The whole wide world in dialectic speech,
Not at the Dionysian festival,
As you did, Agathon, but everywhere!
And always!  He deserves to wear the crown.
[He sits back after crowning Socrates.]
But gentlemen, I think you're sober here.
And that won't do!  You must agree to drink!
I here appoint myself . . . in charge of this.
First, bring the biggest goblet that you have!               1640
No, boy, I have a better thought than that!
That pitcher that I saw when coming in.
Bring that!  And I will show you how to drink.

[The boy goes out and returns with the pitcher.  Alcibiades drinks it off.]
Now, boy . . . fill that again . . . for Socrates.
[The boy goes out and returns during the following speeches, giving the pitcher to Socrates.  There is a pause as he drinks it off.  The boy fills it again, and then the others' cups from it.]
My feat is nothing.  Socrates can drink
As much as any of us tells him to . . .
And never gets the least bit drunk at all.

ERYXIMACHUS
Well, Alcibiades . . . you'd have us drink.
But saying nothing, doing nothing else?
Just drink . . . like slaves out working in the sun?        1650

ALCIBIADES
Ah, Eryximachus, good evening, sir!
Example to us all . . . exemplary son . . .
Of such an exemplary father, too,
Who's always just as sober, I believe

ERYXIMACHUS
My father's compliments to you, as well.
But what would you then have us do--just drink?

ALCIBIADES
Tell me!  The doctor's orders should be law.

ERYXIMACHUS
Before you came, we had a game in hand
Competing with each other honoring,
[To Agathon.] Or eulogizing, Eros, god of Love.         1660
We all have spoken . . . so it's now your turn . . .
If you can put that pitcher down that long.
When you have finished, lay your own commands
On Socrates, and let him do the same
With who comes next . . . right on around the room.

ALCIBIADES
Well, good.  But really, Eryximachus,
You think it's fair to ask a drunken man
To speak before such sober men as you?
And what of Socrates?  You don't believe
A word of what he said regarding me . . .                    1670
Do you?  For just the opposite is true.
If I praise anyone at all but him . . .
Another man . . . or even this great god!
Why he'll do violence to me!  He will!

SOCRATES
I may, if you don't stop.

ALCIBIADES
                                        It's just the truth!
Admit it Socrates!  But wait a bit!
Don't get upset.  I won't praise someone else
Not in your presence!  No . . . I'll just praise you!

ERYXIMACHUS
Well, if you like, do that.  Praise Socrates.

ALCIBIADES
Yes, Eryximachus, I could do that.                              1680
Have at the man right here.  You think I should?

SOCRATES
Now just a minute!  What do you intend?
To have another laugh at my expense?

ALCIBIADES
I'll tell the truth!  Will you let me do that?

SOCRATES
Well . . . let you tell the truth?  Of course I will.
In fact,  my friend,  I here command you to.

ALCIBIADES
Well, then, I'll speak in praise of Socrates,
[A sudden idea.]  And do it by the use of simile.
Now he may claim I do this just for fun,
But, to my mind, this simile speaks truth . . .               1690
Profoundest truth.  I say that Socrates
Reminds me of those satyr statuettes . . .
Silenos figures that you see in shops,
Embracing Pan's pipes, or some other thing,
That open down the middle and fold back
[Hand gestures.]  To there reveal the images of gods.
The satyr Socrates resembles most
Is Marsyas.  You must admit your face
Has features that resemble Marsyas.
Hold up a mirror!  You can't deny the fact!                 1700
In all respects, you're like a Silenos.
Just listen to the next way you're alike.
You 're such a bully!  Aren't you?  Isn't he?
You'd just as well admit it.  If you don't
I'll call my witnesses . . . all seated here.

ARISTODEMOS
You won't have far to look for them, that's true.

AGATHON
He's got you there!  We all will swear to that!

ALCIBIADES
I told you so!  And you're a piper, too?
More wonderful than Marsyas himself!
He had to use an instrument, you know,                      1710
To work his magic charms, and so do most,
From finest artist to our poor flute girl,
Who pipe their music to delight our souls,
And lead us to communion with the gods . . .
Initiate their mysteries divine.
But you perform a magic just as rare
Without an instrument, by words alone.
When I hear your inspired words my heart
Leaps worse than any frantic reveler's,
As tears run from my eyes, without regret . . .            1720
And I see crowds of others in this state.
When I hear Pericles, and others ranked
Among the greatest orators we have,
I've never felt emotions such as those.
[Looks around at the others.]
This Marsyas has often made me think
This life I live is nothing but a waste.
That, Socrates, you will not call untrue!
And even now, if I would let him talk,
I'd soon be just as miserable again.
For he compels me to admit that I                               1730
Neglect my education, flagrantly,
Attending to Athenian affairs.
I stop my ears, as if the Sirens sang,
Or else I would sit down beside this man
And talk until I was as old as he.
You might not think it possible for me
To be ashamed in facing anyone . . .
I am . . . in facing Socrates alone . . .
Yes, only Socrates, and no one else.
I know I can't refute him when he says                        1740
That I neglect the higher human goals--
Should stay with him, pursue philosophy.
Yet, when I leave him, I leave that behind--
For public homage is too much for me.
I hide from him and his dread arguments.
Then, when I see him, I'm ashamed again.
It's even true that I might well be glad
To hear that Socrates no longer lived . . .
To pop up and confuse me in this way.
But, in that case, I would be sadder still--                    1750
So what am I to do about the man?

ARISTODEMOS
The pipings of this satyr, as you say,
Put many here in Athens in this state.

ALCIBIADES
Yes, right you are, my friend.  But something more . . .
To show how truly apt the simile . . .
And just how wonderful his power is.
Not one of you can truly know this man,
Though, sitting here, you all may think you do.
But I'll reveal the secret man to you . . .
Completely, now that I've begun the task.                   1760
You've often heard it said that Socrates
Will look on beauty with a loving eye,
Attracted, it is said, to handsome men.
But this is part of that appearance, too,
Of this Silenos figure, like the pose
That he knows nothing . . . is just ignorant.
He wraps that pose around him like a cloak,
That little satyr statue, seen outside,
But inside, when the statue opens out,
My fellow drinkers . . . ah . . . what is disclosed?        1770

ARISTOPHANES
I can't imagine.  Some grand spectacle?

ALCIBIADES
A spectacle indeed--of temperance!
He doesn't care a thing for beauty, men,
Despising it . . . in shocking abstinence.
The crowd's acclaim and riches he rejects,
And all the things most men desire to own
He casts aside as worthless bagatelles . . .
Half scorning those who want such trivial things.
It's true, I tell you!  Feigning ignorance,
He's making light of all of us that way.                        1780
But though he may have managed to resist
The charms of beauty . . . and these worldly goods . . .
I found myself seduced by hidden charms,
The beauty of the images revealed
When that rare inner spirit of this man
Was opened out--as I beheld them once.
As some of you, in your time, may have done.
Then I was ready to do anything
That Socrates might offer or demand,
Delighted by what I was seeing as                               1790
My singular good fortune, believing that
By gratifying Socrates I should
Be gratified by wisdom in return.

SOCRATES
Now . . . what do you intend . . .

ALCIBIADES
                                                 To tell the truth!
Please challenge it if I don't tell the truth.
[To the group.]  I held a high opinion of my charms,
A very high opinion . . . as you know.
I made occasion then to be alone
With him, expecting him to talk to me . . .
As any lover would . . . given the chance . . .              1800
And happy in the expectation . . . but . . .
But nothing came of it!  Nothing at all!
He only talked, just as he always does.
Another day of conversation passed,
He went his way, and left me mystified.
I challenged him to wrestle with me then,
Expecting something physical from that.
We wrestled often . . . and with no one there.
He's hard to beat, but nothing came of it.
So I resolved on stronger measures yet,                       1810
A confrontation--but on my own terms--
Invited him for dinner at my home,
Exactly like a lover with designs
Upon his best beloved--but he held back.
At first he found excuses not to come,
But finally my zeal persuaded him.
Then, after dinner, he got up and left!
In my embarrassment, I let him go--
But next time I had planned more carefully.
I kept him arguing until quite late,                               1820
And then, remarking on how late it was,
Suggested that he'd better spend the night,
Sleep on the couch that lay right next to mine,
Where he had dined . . . and we were there alone.
[Pause for effect.]  So far, I'd tell this tale to anyone.
What follows I relate to you . . . in part
Because I've drunk an awful lot of wine,
Great liberator of the truth, they say . . .
And even children listening to this . . .

[Gesturing toward the boys, who are now listening.]
In part because I'm praising Socrates,                          1830
And feel I am obliged to be complete . . .
But mostly since I feel myself to be
In sympathetic company tonight,
With those who've "felt the viper's bite" themselves.
You know they say that one who's felt that bite
Won't speak of his reaction but to those
Who also have been bitten--they alone
Will know what it was like, and so excuse
Things said or done in special agony.
Well, I was bitten by this viper here                            1840
A most insidious viper--you agree?
And in the place most sensitive of all
The places that a viper schemes to bite,
 [Pause.]  The heart, or soul, where I was bitten by
His lofty speeches on philosophy,
Which seize upon a young and generous soul,
And, once attached, hang on tenaciously,
To make the victim do the strangest things.
Aristodemos, when I look at you . . .
And Phaedrus, Eryximachus, our host,                        1850
Good Agathon . . . then Aristophanes . . .
And, finally, on Socrates himself--
All men who've shared this madness, felt the bite,
The special passion of philosophy!
You've known the viper's bite, so are disposed
To listen with compassion to my tale,
And not to judge too harshly what you hear.
But you, boy--still a virgin?--close your ears!
[Leans forward confidentially.]
All right, then, there we were!  The lamp was out,
The servants gone.  I thought the time had come.       1860
I shook the man, "Asleep yet, Socrates?"
"No, not at all," he answered, quite awake.
"And do you know what's on my mind?"  I asked.
"No . . . what?" he asked, as if he didn't know.
"That you're the only lover I have had
Who's worthy of me . . . yet you never speak
A single word.  I'll tell you how I feel . . .
That it would be ridiculous in me
To fail to gratify your love . . . tonight . . .
Or any time . . . in any way I can,                                1870
Through my own property or through my friends.
For nothing is more precious when you're young
Than to attain to moral excellence--
And you're the one to help me to that goal.
So I would be ashamed before the wise
Not to have gratified a man like you--
More than before the multitude of fools
For having done."  He answered pleasantly,
But playing that eternal innocent,
"My dearest Alcibiades," he said,                                1880
"You'd drive a clever bargain for yourself,
To take advantage of your sleepy friend.
If there's some power in me that you can see,
Some beauty I find inconceivable,
Immensely greater than you value yours,
And you would trade--your beauty for my own--
Then you've arranged to get the best of me,
To trade an imitation for the real,
Trade 'bronze for gold.'  But take a better look,
And you will see I've no such thing to trade.               1890
The eyesight of the mind gets sharper when
The physical begins to lose its edge . . .
And you, my friend, are much too young for that."
This left me in confusion, but I said,
"I've tried to say exactly what I mean.
It's up to you to judge what's best for us."
"Now that's well said," he answered, tranquilly,
"We'll think about this trade another time,
Deciding then what's best for both of us."
When I had shot my shaft, as you have heard,            1900
With this response, I pondered what to do.
I thought he was enticed . . . but reticent.
So I got up, without another word,
And spread my mantle over him--like this--
Then crept in underneath his threadbare cloak,
Against the winter cold, and threw my arms
Around this most astonishing of men.
And there I lay . . . the whole entire night!
You won't deny that, either, Socrates.
But he was so immune to my young charms,               1910
Despising all that I had offered him,
And so insulted me upon that point
Which was my special pride . . . and may be still . . .
That, by my soul, I swear by all the gods
And all the goddesses, as well!  Why not?
When I arose the morning after that
No more had taken place with Socrates
Than if he'd been my father sleeping there.
Imagine how I felt!  I was disgraced!
But I admired such firm temperance,                           1920
Such wisdom and endurance--all so rare
I never had encountered them before,
And did not wish to quarrel and part with him.
But yet, I never could devise a scheme
To trap the man.  He was invulnerable
To money, flattery, or even wine,
And in the one attraction I had thought
Would win him certainly, he had escaped.
I felt defeated, and as much a slave
To this bold creature as a man can be.                         1930

ERYXIMACHUS
Quite fascinating, Alcibiades.
As I remember, you and Socrates
Both served together when you went to war,
The military expedition sent
To Poteidaia . . . many years ago.
Was all of this before or after that?

ALCIBIADES
Before that expedition.  [Laughs.]  I was young,
About nineteen, and he was thirty eight . . .
I guess.  Then, yes, I went with him to war,
And thank you for reminding me of that,                     1940
For in my praise of Socrates I must
Relate how brave a soldier he could be.
In bearing hardships on a rough campaign
I'd have to say he was remarkable.
When, for example, we had been cut off,
Had been deprived of water, or of food,
As happens on campaign, he marched right on.
But, on the other hand, when things went well,
He seemed to be the only one who could
Enjoy the surplus that had come to us,                        1950
For, though he's not a frequent drinker, he,
When he decided to, outdrank them all.
Yet who of us has ever seen him drunk?

AGATHON
We'll put that to the test this very night.

ALCIBIADES
I've yet to see it happen.  More than that . . .
The winters were horrendous on campaign.
One time we had a very heavy freeze,
That kept us all from going out of doors
Without  a heavy cloak, with winter hood,
And legs and feet all swathed in sheepskin boots,       1960
But Socrates still went about unshod,
And in his usual cloak, without a hood,
He'd move across the ice with less concern
Than others with their boots and heavy cloaks.
It made the others angry, watching him,
And thinking he despised their frailty.  [Pause.]
And something else he did on that campaign
Is even better in the way it shows
Remarkable endurance in the man.
Pursuing some idea he got stuck,                                 1970
And when he couldn't satisfy himself
Refused to give it up . . . stood pondering
The problem, standing there, from dawn to dawn.
We only noticed this about midday,
When one and then another mentioned it.
Since it was summer then, and pleasant out,
A few of the Ionians took it up,
And, bringing sleeping pallets to the field,
They watched to see if he'd stand there all night.
He did.  And then, at dawn, he offered up                   1980
A prayer to the sun and walked away.

[Alcibiades shakes his head, then sits up straight.]
The final measure of a soldier is
His conduct when the battle comes, of course,
And Socrates was quite exemplary.
I have good cause to know that he was brave
For in that battle when I was the one
The generals gave the prize for valor to,
I told them Socrates had saved my life,
When no one else had dared to come for me.
Though I was wounded, he stood by my side . . .        1990
And even saved my weapons . . .
                                [To Socrates.]  and my life.
I begged the generals to give him the prize . . .
And, Socrates, you know that that's the truth.
But when they chose, moved by my rank it seems,
To give the prize to me, it was in part
Because you were more eager than the rest
That I would be the one they gave it to.
[Pause.]  Another time he played the soldier well
Was when we were retreating in the field
From Delion, where we had been thrown back,          2000
And he and Laches were with those on foot,
While I was safe on horseback, so could watch
What happened then much more dispassionately
Than when we were at Poteidaia,
Since I had less to fear.  He kept his head
Much better than did Laches, and he marched
Exactly as he does in Athens now;
To quote you, Aristophanes, my friend,
He went "with swaggering gait and rolling eye,"
Surveying both our friends and enemies,                     2010
And making it quite clear, a long way off,
That here was one man who would surely fight.
Both he and Laches made it safely through,
For men like that, in war, are left alone,
While those who're running headlong are pursued.
Examples of this kind are endless, though.
Some of his many virtues may be found
In this man or in that, but he's unique--
In ancient or in modern history.
You might find warriors like Achilles, then,                2020
Or speakers with the skills of Pericles,
But Socrates is an original.
It seems that those Silenos figures are
The only things you can compare to him.
The more I think of that comparison,
Especially in reference to his speech,
The more the similarity applies--
For what he says seems so absurd at first.
The words and phrases it's appareled in,
Are like a boisterous satyr's hairy hide--                      2030
Pack asses, shoemakers, and carpenters
Are what he talks about, and  always seem
The same old things dressed in the same old words,
So even the most ignorant, foolish men
Would laugh at them.  But when they're opened out,
You look inside and find them full of sense,
Divine, containing virtuous images,
And all the things a man should harken to
If he's aspiring to the noble life--
[Looking around at the group.]
As I know each man sitting here to be.                        2040
There . . . gentlemen . . . you have my humble speech
In praise of Socrates.  I must admit
I've mixed in just a little blame, as well,
In telling you the way he treated me.
I'm not the only one.  Ask Charmides,
Or Euthydemos, or . . .
        [Looking around.]  well, others whom
I might name . . . whom, as lover, he has tricked
Forced them to treat him as the one beloved.
[To Agathon.]  So let that be a warning then to you,
To learn from our experience, Agathon,                      2050
And not be that proverbial fool instead,
Who only learns by stumbling himself.
[General laughter.  Alcibiades smiles at Socrates.]
SOCRATES
I think you're sober, Alcibiades,
To wrap your real design so cleverly
In such a heavy mantle . . . then reveal
It only in this postscript, casually.
You just intend to conjure up a quarrel
Between our good host, Agathon, and me--
Believing I should love just you alone--
But I see through that false, silenic screen.                  2060
My dearest Agathon, we must take care--
Don't let him get away with such a trick.

AGATHON
Yes, Socrates, I noticed how he moved
Right in between us in this drunken pose.
But I'll move to your other side.  How's that?

SOCRATES
Good!   Over here.  And then don't quarrel with me.
We'll show him that such strategies won't work.

ALCIBIADES
Look how the creature treats me!  Shamelessly!
At least let Agathon sit here between.

SOCRATES
Impossible!  You've sung my praises now,                  2070
And I must do the same for who sits next . . .
The next man to the right.  If Agathon
Moves there between us he will have to speak
In praise of me again--will lose his turn.
And it's his victory we celebrate.
Let him alone.  You surely don't begrudge
A handsome man a modicum of praise,
For I look forward to . . . attempting it.

AGATHON
No, Alcibiades, that settles it!
If Socrates is praising me, I'll move                              2080
closer to him.  [He moves.]

ALCIBIADES
[Mock resignation.]    Bested once again,
As usual with this satyr . . . Socrates.
For no one else can hope to get a share
Of special beauties once he covets them!
How easily he makes these reasons up
To pull them to his side.  The rest of us
Must find what solace offers where we can.
Here, boy!  That pitcher.  Bring it over here.
And, Socrates, drink up . . . then carry on!

[Fade out.]
CLOSING FRAME
[Glaucon and Apollodoros enter.]
APOLLODOROS
So, evidently, there were many more
Fine speeches given as the night progressed.
Aristodemos could not quite recall,
For he, and they, increasingly partook
Of each wine pitcher that was sent around.
He did remember that, as morning came,
He still heard Socrates in argument,
Defending his position against . . . ?  Both!
Both Agathon and Aristophanes!
That skill in tragedy and comedy                                     10
Was one--the greatest comic dramatist
And greatest tragic dramatist as well
Might be a single man--superb in both--
A single artist of a single art.
But finally he had exhausted them.
Then Socrates arose and went away,
Apparently as fresh as if he were
Arising from a peaceful night's repose.

GLAUCON
A good night's conversation has a way
Of perking up more life in Socrates                                 20
Than just as much uninterrupted sleep.
But see, we're getting to the city now,
So this is where our ways must part, my friend.
And, after this, I, too, feel more refreshed,
For, even having them at three removes
From the originals, these arguments
Have made the journey shorter . . . haven't they?
Apollodoros, you have been a friend,
Responding to my curiosity
So generously.  And please thank Socrates                      30
For me, as well--that truly special man--
As Alcibiades depicted him.
Not only does he wax divine himself,
But, as a kind of midwife in debate,
Brings forth from others more than mortal speech.

[They move off, still talking.]

[Lights out.]