60 PLATO
And I was flabbergasted when I heard this, and was afraid as I looked at him, and
it seemed to me that if I had not seen him before he saw me I would have been struck
dumb.*But as it was, just as he was beginning to be driven wild by the argument I
looked at him first, and so I was able to answer him, and said, trembling a little, “Don’t
be rough on us, Thrasymachus. If we’re mistaken in any point in the examination of the
argument, I and this fellow here, you can be assured that we’re going astray unwillingly.
For don’t even imagine, when, if we were looking for gold, we wouldn’t be willing to
kowtow to each other in the search and ruin our chances of finding it, that when we’re
looking for justice, a thing more valuable than much gold, we’d be so senseless as to
defer to each other and not be as serious as possible about bringing it to light. Don’t so
much as imagine that, friend. But I imagine we don’t have the power to find it. So it’s
much more fitting anyway for us to be pitied by you clever people instead of being
roughed up.”
And hearing this, he burst out laughing with great scorn and said “Oh Heracles,
this is that routine irony of Socrates. I knew about this, and I kept telling these people
before that you wouldn’t be willing to answer, but you’d be ironic and do everything
else but answer if anyone asked you anything.”
“That’s because you’re wise, Thrasymachus,” I said, “so you know very well that
if you asked anyone how much twelve is, and in asking demanded of him in advance,
‘don’t give me any of that, fellow, about how twelve is two times six or three times four
or six times two or four times three, since I won’t stand for such drivel from you,’ it was
clear to you, I imagine, that no one could answer someone who interrogated him that
way. But if he said to you, ‘Thrasymachus, how do you mean it? That I must give none
of the answers you prohibited in advance? Not even, you strange fellow, if it happens to
be one of these, but instead I have to say something other than the truth? Or how do you
mean it?’ What would you say to him about that?”
“Oh sure,” he said, “as if this was like that.”
“Nothing prevents it,” I said. “But then even if it isn’t like it, but appears to be to
someone who is asked such a question, do you imagine he’ll any the less answer the
question the way it appears to him, whether we forbid it or not?”
“So what else,” he said; “are you going to do the same thing? Are you going to
give any of those answers I banned?” “I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, “if it seemed that
way to me when I had examined it.”
“Then what if I show you a different answer about justice,” he said, “beyond all
these, better than they are? What penalty would you think you deserve to suffer?”
“What other penalty,” I said, “than the one it’s fitting for someone who doesn’t
have knowledge to suffer? And it’s fitting, no doubt, for him to learn from someone who
has knowledge. So I think I too deserve to suffer this penalty.”
“You’re amusing,” he said, “but in addition to learning, pay a penalty in money too.”
“Okay, whenever I get any,” I said.
“He’s got it,” said Glaucon. “So as far as money’s concerned, Thrasymachus,
speak up, since all of us will chip in for Socrates.”
“I imagine you will,” he said, “so Socrates can go on with his usual routine: he
won’t answer but when somebody else answers he’ll grab hold of his statement and
cross-examine him.”
“Most skillful one,” I said, “how could anyone give an answer who in the first place
doesn’t know and doesn’t claim to know, and then too, even if he supposes something*[A popular superstition, that if a wolf sees you first, you become dumb.]e337a
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