And so my tale shall fare
as it may; I shall cross this stream and go away before you put some further compulsion upon me.
Not yet, Socrates, till the heat is past. Don’t you see that it is already almost noon? Let us stay and talk over what has been said, and then, when it is cooler, we will go away.
Phaedrus, you are simply a superhuman wonder as regards discourses! I believe
no one of all those who have been born in your lifetime has produced more discourses than you, either by speaking them yourself or compelling others to do so. I except Simmias the Theban; but you are far ahead of all the rest. And now I think you have become the cause of another, spoken by me.
That is not exactly a declaration of war! But how is this, and what is the discourse?
My good friend, when I was about to cross the stream, the spirit and the sign
that usually comes to me came—it always holds me back from something I am about to do—and I thought I heard a voice from it which forbade my going away before clearing my conscience, as if I had committed some sin against deity. Now I am a seer, not a very good one, but, as the bad writers say, good enough for my own purposes; so now I understand my error. How prophetic the soul is, my friend! For all along, while I was speaking my discourse, something troubled me, and as Ibycus says,
I was distressed lest I be buying honor among men by sinning against the gods.Ibycus Frag. 24, Bergk.But now I have seen my error.
What do you mean?
Phaedrus, a dreadful speech it was, a dreadful speech, the one you brought with you, and the one you made me speak.
How so?
It was foolish, and somewhat impious. What could be more dreadful than that?
Nothing, if you are right about it.
Well, do you not believe that Love is the son of Aphrodite and is a god?
So it is said.
Yes, but not by Lysias, nor by your speech
which was spoken by you through my mouth that you bewitched.