Lysis.
Socrates, Hippothales, Ctesippus.
Yes, he said, your old friend and admirn, Miccus. Indeed, r replied; he is a very eminent professor.
Arc you disposed, he said, to go with me and see them?
Yes, 1 said; hut I should like lo know first, what is expected of me, and who is the favourite among you?
Some persons have one favmirite, Socrates, and some another, he said.
And who is yours? I asked: tell me that, Hippothali s.
The love fancies of Hippothales are very ridiculous. At this he blushed_: and I said to him, 0 Hivpothales, thou son of I Iicronymus ! do not say that you are, or that you arc not, in love; the confession is too late; for I sec that you are not only in love, but are already far gone in your love. Simple and foolish as T am, the Gnds have given me the power of understanding affections of this kind.
Whereupon he blushed more and more.
Ctesipvus said : I like to sec yuu blushing, Ilippothaks, and hesitating to tell S0cn1tes the name; when, if hP were with you but for a very short time, you would have plagued him to death by talking about nothing else. Indeed, Socrates, he has literally deafened us, and stnpped our ears with the praisPs of Lysis; and if he is a little intoxicated, there is every likelihood that we may have our sleep murdered with a cry of Lysis. His performances in prose are bad enough, but nothing at all in comparison with his verse; and when he drenches us with his poems and other rompositions, it is really too bad; and worse still is his manner of singing them to his love; he has a voice which is truly appalling, and we cannot help hearing him : and now having a question put to him by you, behold he is blushing.
Who is Lysis? I said: I suppose that he must be young; for the name does not recall any one to me.
Why, he said, his father being a very well known man, he retains his patronymic, and is not as yet commonly called by his own name; but, although you do not know his name, I am sure that you must know his face, for that is quite enough to distinguish him.
But tell me whose son he is, I said.
He is the eldest son of Democrates, of the deme of Aexone.
Ah, Hippothales, I said ; what a noble and really perfect
