Book 3, Chapter 11

There was once in the city a fair woman named Theodote. ¹ She was not only fair, but ready to consort with any suitor who might win her favour. Now it chanced that some one of the company mentioned her, saying that her beauty beggared description. "So fair is she," he added, "that painters flock to draw her portrait, to whom, within the limits of decorum, she displays the marvels of her beauty." "Then there is nothing for it but to go and see her," answered Socrates, "since to comprehend by hearsay what is beyond description is clearly impossible." Then he who had introduced the matter replied: "Be quick then to follow me"; and on this wise they set off to seek Theodote. They found her "posing" to a certain painter; and they took their stand as spectators. Presently the painter had ceased his work; whereupon Socrates:

There was once a beautiful woman in the city named Theodote. ¹ She was not only beautiful but also willing to be with any suitor who could win her favor. One day, someone in the group mentioned her, saying that her beauty was beyond description. "She is so beautiful," he added, "that painters flock to paint her portrait. She shows them her marvelous beauty, as far as propriety allows." "Then we must go and see her," Socrates replied, "because we clearly cannot understand from hearsay what cannot be described." The man who had brought her up replied, "Then follow me quickly." So they set off to find Theodote. They found her "posing" for a painter and stood watching. When the painter had finished his work, Socrates said:

"Do you think, sirs, that we ought to thank Theodote for displaying her beauty to us, or she us for coming to gaze at her?... It would seem, would it not, that if the exhibition of her charms is the more profitable to her, the debt is on her side; but if the spectacle of her beauty confers the greater benefit on us, then we are her debtors."

“Do you think, gentlemen, that we should thank Theodote for showing us her beauty? Or should she thank us for coming to look at her?... If showing her beauty benefits her more, then she owes us thanks, doesn’t she? But if seeing her beauty benefits us more, then we owe her thanks.”

Some one answered that "was an equitable statement of the case."

Someone replied that "was a fair statement of the case."

Well then (he continued), as far as she is concerned, the praise we bestow on her is an immediate gain; and presently, when we have spread her fame abroad, she will be further benefited; but for ourselves the immediate effect on us is a strong desire to touch what we have seen; by and by, too, we shall go away with a sting inside us, and when we are fairly gone we shall be consumed with longing. Consequently it seems that we should do her service and she accept our court.

“Well then,” he continued, “our praise benefits her immediately. Later, when we have spread her fame, she will benefit even more. But for us, the immediate effect is a strong desire to touch what we have seen. Later, we will leave with a sting inside us. And once we are gone, we will be consumed with longing. So it seems that we would be serving her, while she would accept our attentions.”

Whereupon Theodote: Oh dear! if that is how the matter stands, it is I who am your debtor for the spectacle. ²

Then Theodote said: Oh dear! If that's how it is, I owe you for the spectacle. ²

At this point, seeing that the lady herself was expensively attired, and that she had with her her mother also, whose dress and style of attendance ³ were out of the common, not to speak of the waiting-women—many and fair to look upon, who presented anything but a forlorn appearance; while in every respect the whole house itself was sumptuously furnished—Socrates put a question:

At this point, Socrates saw that the lady was dressed expensively. Her mother was with her, and her dress and the way she was attended ³ were unusual. There were also many attractive waiting-women, who looked far from neglected. The whole house was furnished lavishly in every respect. Seeing all this, Socrates asked a question:

Pray tell me, Theodote, have you an estate in the country?

Tell me, Theodote, do you own an estate in the country?

Theod. Not I indeed.

Theod. Certainly not me.

Soc. Then perhaps you possess a house and large revenues along with it?

Soc. Then perhaps you own a house that brings in a large income?

Theod. No, nor yet a house.

Theod. No, not even a house.

Soc. You are not an employer of labour on a large scale? ⁴

Soc. You don't employ many workers? ⁴

Theod. No, nor yet an employer of labour.

Theod. No, nor an employer.

Soc. From what source, then, do you get your means of subsistence? ⁵

Soc. So how do you make a living? ⁵

Theod. My friends are my life and fortune, when they care to be kind to me.

Theod. My friends are my life and fortune, when they choose to be kind to me.

Soc. By heaven, Theodote, a very fine property indeed, and far better worth possessing than a multitude of sheep or goats or cattle. A flock of friends!... But (he added) do you leave it to fortune whether a friend lights like a fly on your hand at random, or do you use any artifice ⁶ yourself to attract him?

Soc. By heaven, Theodote, that's a very fine possession. It's worth far more than a large number of sheep, goats, or cattle. A flock of friends!... But, he added, do you leave it to chance whether a friend lands on your hand like a fly? Or do you use some trick ⁶ yourself to attract him?

Theod. And how might I hit upon any artifice to attract him?

Theod. And how could I come up with a way to attract him?

Soc. Bless me! far more naturally than any spider. You know how they capture the creatures on which they live; ⁷ by weaving webs of gossamer, is it not? and woe betide the fly that tumbles into their toils! They eat him up.

Soc. Good heavens! Far more naturally than any spider. You know how spiders catch the creatures they feed on, ⁷ by weaving delicate webs, don't you? And pity the fly that falls into their webs! They eat it up.

Theod. So then you would counsel me to weave myself some sort of net?

Theod. So you would advise me to weave some kind of net for myself?

Soc. Why, surely you do not suppose you are going to ensnare that noblest of all game—a lover, to wit—in so artless a fashion? Do you not see (to speak of a much less noble sort of game) what a number of devices are needed to bag a hare? ⁸ The creatures range for their food at night; therefore the hunter must provide himself with night dogs. At peep of dawn they are off as fast as they can run. He must therefore have another pack of dogs to scent out and discover which way they betake them from their grazing ground to their forms; ⁹ and as they are so fleet of foot that they run and are out of sight in no time, he must once again be provided with other fleet-footed dogs to follow their tracks and overtake them; ¹⁰ and as some of them will give even these the slip, he must, last of all, set up nets on the paths at the points of escape, so that they may fall into the meshes and be caught.

Soc. Surely you don't think you can catch the noblest game of all, a lover, so simply? Consider a far less noble kind of game. Don't you see how many tricks are needed to catch a hare? ⁸ Hares feed at night, so the hunter needs dogs for hunting at night. At daybreak, the hares run off as fast as they can. So he needs another pack of dogs to find their scent. These dogs discover which way the hares went from their feeding ground to their resting places. ⁹ Hares are so fast that they disappear in no time. So he needs yet more fast dogs to follow their tracks and catch up with them. ¹⁰ Some hares will escape even these dogs. So, finally, he must set up nets along their escape routes, so that they run into them and are caught.

Theod. And by what like contrivance would you have me catch my lovers?

Theod. And what similar trick would you have me use to catch my lovers?

Soc. Well now! what if in place of a dog you can get a man who will hunt up your wealthy lover of beauty and discover his lair, and having found him, will plot and plan to throw him into your meshes?

Soc. Well then! What if, instead of a dog, you could get a man to hunt down your wealthy admirer of beauty and find his hiding place? Once he finds him, the man could plot and plan to draw him into your net.

Theod. Nay, what sort of meshes have I?

Theod. But what kind of nets do I have?

Soc. One you have, and a close-folding net it is, ¹¹ I trow; to wit, your own person; and inside it sits a soul that teaches you ¹² with what looks to please and with what words to cheer; how, too, with smiles you are to welcome true devotion, but to exclude all wantons from your presence. ¹³ It tells you, you are to visit your beloved in sickness with solicitude, and when he has wrought some noble deed you are greatly to rejoice with him; and to one who passionately cares for you, you are to make surrender of yourself with heart and soul. The secret of true love I am sure you know: not to love softly merely, but devotedly. ¹⁴ And of this too I am sure: you can convince your lovers of your fondness for them not by lip phrases, but by acts of love.

Soc. You do have one, and I think it is a tightly enclosing net: ¹¹ your own person. Inside it is a soul that teaches you ¹² which looks will please and which words will cheer. It teaches you to welcome true devotion with smiles, but to keep all wanton people away from you. ¹³ It tells you to visit your beloved with concern when he is ill. When he has done something noble, it tells you to rejoice greatly with him. And when someone loves you passionately, it tells you to give yourself to him heart and soul. I am sure you know the secret of true love: to love not just tenderly, but devotedly. ¹⁴ I am also sure you can convince your lovers of your affection through acts of love, not mere words.

Theod. No, upon my word, I have none of these devices.

Theod. No, honestly, I have none of these devices.

Soc. And yet it makes all the difference whether you approach a human being in the natural and true way, since it is not by force certainly that you can either catch or keep a friend. Kindness and pleasure are the only means to capture this fearful wild-fowl man and keep him constant.

Soc. And yet it makes all the difference whether you approach a person naturally and sincerely. You certainly cannot make or keep a friend by force. Kindness and pleasure are the only ways to capture and keep this fearful wild bird called man.

Theod. You are right.

Theod. You are right.

Soc. In the first place you must make such demands only of your well-wisher as he can grant without repentance; and in the next place you must make requital, dispensing your favours with a like economy. Thus you will best make friends whose love shall last the longest and their generosity know no stint. ¹⁵ And for your favours you will best win your friends if you suit your largess to their penury; for, mark you, the sweetest viands presented to a man before he wants them are apt to prove insipid, or, to one already sated, even nauseous; but create hunger, and even coarser stuff seems honey-sweet.

Soc. First, ask a well-wisher only for things he can give without regretting it. Second, return his favors, and be just as careful about what you give. In this way, you will best make friends whose love lasts longest and whose generosity never runs out. ¹⁵ You will best win your friends over by giving them what they lack. For even the most delicious food can seem tasteless if offered before a person is hungry. If he is already full, it may even make him feel sick. But make him hungry, and even simpler food will taste as sweet as honey.

Theod. How then shall I create this hunger in the heart of my friends?

Theod. How can I create this hunger in my friends' hearts?

Soc. In the first place you must not offer or make suggestion of your dainties to jaded appetites until satiety has ceased and starvation cries for alms. Even then shall you make but a faint suggestion to their want, with modest converse—like one who would fain bestow a kindness... and lo! the vision fades and she is gone—until the very pinch of hunger; for the same gifts have then a value unknown before the moment of supreme desire.

Soc. First, you must not offer or suggest your delicacies to people whose appetites are dulled until their fullness has passed and hunger begs for relief. Even then, only gently suggest that you might satisfy their hunger. Speak modestly, like someone who wants to do a kindness... and look! The vision fades and she is gone, until hunger becomes acute. For the same gifts have a value at the moment of greatest desire that they did not have before.

Then Theodote: Oh why, Socrates, why are you not by my side (like the huntsman's assistant) to help me catch my friends and lovers?

Then Theodote said: Oh, Socrates, why aren't you by my side, like a hunter's assistant, helping me catch friends and lovers?

Soc. That will I be in good sooth if only you can woo and win me.

Soc. I certainly will be, if only you can court me and win me over.

Theod. How shall I woo and win you?

Theod. How can I court you and win you over?

Soc. Seek and you will find means, if you truly need me.

Soc. Look, and you will find a way, if you really need me.

Theod. Come then in hither and visit me often.

Theod. Then come in and visit me often.

And Socrates, poking sly fun at his own lack of business occupation, answered: Nay, Theodote, leisure is not a commodity in which I largely deal. I have a hundred affairs of my own too, private or public, to occupy me; and then there are my lady-loves, my dear friends, who will not suffer me day or night to leave them, for ever studying to learn love-charms and incantations at my lips.

Socrates replied, slyly joking about his own lack of business: No, Theodote, I don't have much leisure to spare. I have a hundred affairs of my own, both private and public, to keep me busy. Then there are my lady-loves, my dear friends. They won't let me leave them, day or night, and are always trying to learn love charms and incantations from me.

Theod. Why, are you really versed in those things, Socrates?

Theod. Really, Socrates, do you know about those things?

Soc. Of course, or else how is it, do you suppose, that Apollodorus ¹⁶ here and Antisthenes never leave me; or why have Cebes and Simmias come all the way from Thebes to stay with me? Be assured these things cannot happen without diverse love-charms and incantations and magic wheels.

Soc. Of course. Otherwise, why do you think Apollodorus ¹⁶ here and Antisthenes never leave me? And why have Cebes and Simmias come all the way from Thebes to stay with me? You can be sure none of this could happen without various love charms, incantations, and magic wheels.

Theod. I wish you would lend me your magic-wheel, ¹⁷ then, and I will set it spinning first of all for you.

Theod. Then please lend me your magic wheel, ¹⁷ and I will spin it for you first.

Soc. Ah! but I do not wish to be drawn to you. I wish you to come to me.

Soc. Ah, but I don't want to be drawn to you. I want you to come to me.

Theod. Then I will come. Only, will you be "at home" to me?

Theod. Then I’ll come. But will you be "at home" to receive me?

Soc. Yes, I will welcome you, unless some one still dearer holds me engaged, and I must needs be "not at home."

Soc. Yes, I will welcome you, unless someone even dearer to me keeps me occupied, and I have to be "not at home."