Soc. But surely, my friend, we are aware of persons who call it and consider it so.

Pro. Certainly.

Soc. Do they, then, think they feel pleasure whenever they are not in pain?

Pro. That is what they say.

Soc. Then they do think they feel pleasure at such times; for otherwise they would not say so.

Pro. Most likely.

Soc. Certainly, then, they have a false opinion about pleasure, if there is an essential difference between feeling pleasure and not feeling pain.

Pro. And we certainly found that difference.

Soc. Then shall we adopt the view that there are, as we said just now, three states, or that there are only two—pain, which is an evil to mankind, and freedom from pain, which is of itself a good and is called pleasure?

Pro. Why do we ask ourselves that question now, Socrates? I do not understand.

Soc. No, Protarchus, for you certainly do not understand about the enemies of our friend Philebus.

Pro. Whom do you mean?

Soc. Certain men who are said to be master thinkers about nature, and who deny the existence of pleasures altogether.

Pro. Is it possible?

Soc. They say that what Philebus and his school call pleasures are all merely refuges from pain.

Pro. Do you recommend that we adopt their view, Socrates?

Soc. No, but that we make use of them as seers who divine the truth, not by acquired skill, but by some innate and not ignoble repugnance which makes them hate the power of pleasure and think it so utterly unsound that its very attractiveness is mere trickery, not pleasure. You may make use of them in this way, considering also their other expressions of dislike; and after that you shall learn of the pleasures which seem to me to be true, in order that we may consider the power of pleasure from both points of view and form our judgement by comparing them.

Pro. You are right.

Soc. Let us, then, consider these men as allies and follow them in the track of their dislike. I fancy their method would be to begin somewhere further back and ask whether, if we wished to discover the nature of any class—take the hard, for instance—we should be more likely to learn it by looking at the hardest things or at the least hard. Now you, Protarchus, must reply to them as you have been replying to me.

Pro. By all means, and I say to them that we should look at the greatest things.

Soc. Then if we wished to discover what the nature of pleasure is, we should look, not at the smallest pleasures, but at those which are considered most extreme and intense.

Pro. Every one would agree to that now.

Soc. And the commonest and greatest pleasures are, as we have often said, those connected with the body, are they not?

Pro. Certainly.

Soc. Are they greater, then, and do they become greater in those who are ill or in those who are in health? Let us take care not to answer hastily and fall into error. Perhaps we might say they are greater in those who are in health.

Pro. That is reasonable.

Soc. Yes, but are not those pleasures the greatest which gratify the greatest desires?

Pro. That is true.

Soc. But do not people who are in a fever, or in similar diseases, feel more intensely thirst and cold and other bodily sufferings which they usually have; and do they not feel greater want, followed by greater pleasure when their want is satisfied? Is this true, or not?

Pro. Now that you have said it, it certainly appears to be true.

Soc. Then should we appear to be right in saying that if we wished to discover the greatest pleasures we should have to look, not at health, but at disease? Now do not imagine that I mean to ask you whether those who are very ill have more pleasures than those who are well, but assume that I am asking about the greatness of pleasure, and where the greatest intensity of such feeling normally occurs. For we say that it is our task to discover the nature of pleasure and what those who deny its existence altogether say that it is. This paradox means what those say it is who deny that it is really pleasure.

Pro. I think I understand you.

Soc. Presently, Protarchus, you will show that more clearly, for I want you to answer a question. Do you see greater pleasures—I do not mean greater in number, but greater in intensity and degree—in riotous living or in a life of self-restraint? Be careful about your reply.

Pro. I understand you, and I see that there is a great difference. For the self-restrained are always held in check by the advice of the proverbial expression nothing too much, which guides their actions; but intense pleasure holds sway over the foolish and dissolute even to the point of madness and makes them notorious.

Soc. Good; and if that is true, it is clear that the greatest pleasures and the greatest pains originate in some depravity of soul and body, not in virtue.

Pro. Certainly.

Soc. Then we must select some of these pleasures and see what there is about them which made us say that they are the greatest.

Pro. Yes, we must.

Soc. Now see what there is about the pleasures which are related to certain diseases.

Pro. What diseases?

Soc. Repulsive diseases which the philosophers of dislike whom we mentioned utterly abominate.

Pro. What are the pleasures?

Soc. For instance, the relief of the itch and the like by scratching, no other treatment being required. For in Heaven’s name what shall we say the feeling is which we have in this case? Is it pleasure or pain?

Pro. I think, Socrates, it is a mixed evil.

Soc. I did not introduce this question on Philebus’ account; but unless we consider these pleasures and those that follow in their train, Protarchus, we can probably never settle the point at issue.

Pro. Then we must attack this family of pleasures.

Soc. You mean those which are mixed?

Pro. Certainly.

Soc. Some mixtures are concerned with the body and are in the body only, and some belong only to the soul and are in the soul; and we shall also find some mingled pains and pleasures belonging both to the soul and to the body, and these are sometimes called pleasures, sometimes pains.

Pro. How so?

Soc. Whenever, in the process of restoration or destruction, anyone has two opposite feelings, as we sometimes are cold, but are growing warm, or are hot, but are growing cold, the desire of having the one and being free from the other, the mixture of bitter and sweet, as they say, joined with the difficulty in getting rid of the bitter, produces impatience and, later, wild excitement.

Pro. What you say is perfectly true.

Soc. And such mixtures sometimes consist of equal pains and pleasures and sometimes contain more of one or the other, do they not?

Pro. Of course.

Soc. In the case of the mixtures in which the pains are more than the pleasures—say the itch, which we mentioned just now, or tickling—when the burning inflammation is within and is not reached by the rubbing and scratching, which separate only such mixtures as are on the surface, sometimes by bringing the affected parts to the fire or to something cold we change from wretchedness to inexpressible pleasures, and sometimes the opposition between the internal and the external produces a mixture of pains and pleasures, whichever happens to preponderate; this is the result of the forcible separation of combined elements, or the combination of those that were separate, and the concomitant juxtaposition of pains and pleasures.