These were my words, Crito; and I set about giving the closest attention to what should follow, and observing in what fashion they would deal with the question, and how they would start exhorting the youth to practise wisdom and virtue. So then the elder of them, Dionysodorus, entered first upon the discussion, and we all turned our eyes on him expecting to hear, there and then, some wonderful arguments. And this result we certainly got; for wondrous, in a way, Crito, was the argument that the man then ushered forth, which is worth your hearing as a notable incitement to virtue. Tell me, Socrates, he said, and all you others who say you desire this youth to become wise, whether you say this in jest or truly and earnestly desire it. At this I reflected that previously, as it seemed, they took us to be jesting, when we urged them to converse with the youth, and hence they made a jest of it and did not take it seriously. This reflection therefore made me insist all the more that we were in deadly earnest. Then Dionysodorus said: Yet be careful, Socrates, that you do not have to deny what you say now. I know what I am about, I said: I know I shall never deny it. Well now, he proceeded; you tell me you wish him to become wise? Certainly. And at present, he asked, is Cleinias wise or not? He says he is not yet so—he is no vain pretender. And you, he went on, wish him to become wise, and not to be ignorant? We agreed. So you wish him to become what he is not, and to be no longer what he now is. When I heard this I was confused; and he, striking in on my confusion, said: Of course then, since you wish him to be no longer what he now is, you wish him, apparently, to be dead. And yet what valuable friends and lovers they must be, who would give anything to know their darling was dead and gone! Ctesippus, on hearing this, was annoyed on his favorite’s account, and said: Stranger of Thurii, were it not rather a rude thing to say, I should tell you, ill betide your design of speaking so falsely of me and my friends as to make out—what to me is almost too profane even to repeat—that I could wish this boy to be dead and gone!