A good thing, he said. And we were saying, I believe, that the body, being neither good nor bad, was a friend of medicine—that is, of a good thing—because of disease—that is, because of a bad thing; and it is for the sake of health that medicine has acquired this friendship, and health is a good thing. You agree? Yes. Is health a friend or not? A friend. And disease is a foe? Certainly. So what is neither bad nor good is a friend to the good because of what is bad and a foe for the sake of what is good and a friend. Apparently. Hence the friend is a friend of its friend for the sake of its friend and because of its foe. So it seems. Very well, I said: since we have reached this point, my boys, let us take good heed not to be deceived. I pass over without remark the fact that the friend has become a friend to the friend, and thus the like becomes a friend to the like, which we said was impossible. There is, however, a further point which we must examine, if we are not to find our present argument a mere deception. Medicine, we say, is a friend for the sake of health. Yes. Then is health a friend also? Certainly. And if it is a friend, it is so for the sake of something. Yes. And that something is a friend, if it is to conform to our previous agreement. Quite so. Then will that something be, on its part also, a friend for the sake of a friend? Yes. Now are we not bound to weary ourselves with going on in this way, unless we can arrive at some first principle which will not keep leading us on from one friend to another, but will reach the one original friend, for whose sake all the other things can be said to be friends? We must. So you see what I am afraid of—that all the other things, which we cited as friends for the sake of that one thing, may be deceiving us like so many phantoms of it, while that original thing may be the veritable friend. For suppose we view the matter thus: when a man highly values a thing, as in the common case of a father who prizes his son above all his possessions, will such a man, for the sake of placing his son before everything, value anything else highly at the same time? For instance, on learning that he had drunk some hemlock, would he value wine highly if he believed it would save his son’s life? Why, of course, he said. And the vessel too which contained the wine? Certainly. Now does he make no distinction in value, at that moment, between a cup of earthenware and his own son, or between three pints of wine and his son?