the art of reciting verses was different from that of driving chariots?
Ion. I remember.
Socrates. And did you not admit that being different, the subjects of its knowledge must also be different?
Ion. Certainly.
Socrates. You will not assert that the art of rhapsody is that of universal knowledge; a rhapsodist may be ignorant of some things.
Ion. Except, perhaps, such things as we now discuss, O Socrates.
Socrates. What do you mean by such subjects, besides those which relate to other arts? And with which among them do you profess a competent acquaintance, since not with all?
Ion. I imagine that the rhapsodist has a perfect knowledge of what it is becoming for a man to speak—what for a woman; what for a slave, what for a free man; what for the ruler, what for him who is governed.
Socrates. How! do you think that a rhapsodist knows better than a pilot what the captain of a ship in a tempest ought to say?
Ion. In such a circumstance I allow that the pilot would know best.
Socrates. Has the rhapsodist or the physician the clearest knowledge of what ought to be said to a sick man?
Ion. In that case the physician.
Socrates. But you assert that he knows what a slave ought to say?
Ion. Certainly.
Socrates. To take for example, in the driving of cattle; a rhapsodist would know much better than the herdsman what ought to be said to a slave engaged in bringing back a herd of oxen run wild?
Ion. No, indeed.
