All knowledge is relative, and must have some object-matter; and such a universal knowledge as Critias would imply by temperance would in no way conduce to our happiness.
Finally, Socrates confesses himself puzzled and baffled. They are no nearer the truth than at starting; and the argument, so to speak, "turns round and laughs in their faces." He is sorry that Charmides has learnt so little from him; "and still more," he concludes—
"am I grieved about the charm which I learned with so much pain and to so little profit from the Thracian, for the sake of a thing which is nothing worth. I think, indeed, that there is a mistake, and that I must be a bad inquirer; for I am persuaded that wisdom or temperance is really a great good; and happy are you if you possess that good. And therefore examine yourself, and see whether you have this gift, and can do without the charm; for if you can, I would rather advise you to regard me simply as a fool who is never able to reason out anything; and to rest assured that the more wise and temperate you are, the happier you will be."
Charmides said: "I am sure I do not know, Socrates, whether I have or have not this gift of wisdom and temperance; for how can I know whether I have that, the very nature of which even you and Critias, as you say, are unable to discover ? (not that I believe you.) And further, I am sure, Socrates, that I do need the charm; and, so far as I am concerned, I shall be willing to be charmed by you daily, until you say I have had enough."
"Very good, Charmides," said Critias; "if you do this I shall have a proof of your temperance—that is, if you allow yourself to be charmed by Socrates, and never desert him at all."
