I at any rate am satisfied.

But will you not tell me too, my friend? Or will you leave me rotting among the vulgar rabble?

Nothing I say pleases you.

Not so, my good sir; you refuse to say anything to please me. So, since you are deliberately keeping me in the dark and you grudge me the chance of becoming as good a philosopher as you are, I shall try as well as I can to find out for myself the true test for these matters and the safest choice to make. Now please listen to me.

I am willing, Lycinus. Perhaps you will say something important.

Then give me your attention and don’t mock me if my investigation is altogether that of a layman; it can’t be helped when you will not explain more precisely although you know better.

Virtue then seems to me like a city whose inhabitants are happy (as your teacher, who has come from there, wherever it may be, would say), outstanding in their wisdom, all of them brave, just, prudent, almost gods. All those things that you find here—robbery, violence, cheating—they say you would find none of them ventured in that city; no, they live together in peace and harmony naturally enough; for what, I suppose, in other cities produces strife and discord, plot and counter-plot, is entirely absent. They do not any longer look on gold, pleasures, or glory as things to quarrel about—they drove them from the city long ago, thinking them unnecessary to their common life. So they live a calm and perfectly happy life with good government, equality, freedom, and the other blessings.