 
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | >6< | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 Happy the man to whom his children are dear, and steeds having
single hoofs, and dogs of chase, and the stranger of another land?
I do not think that he was wrong.
You think that he is right?
Yes.
Then, Menexenus, the conclusion is, that what is beloved, whether
loving or hating, may be dear to the lover of it: for example, very
young children, too young to love, or even hating their father or
mother when they are punished by them, are never dearer to them than
at the time when they are being hated by them.
I think that what you say is true.
And, if so, not the lover, but the beloved, is the friend or dear
one?
Yes.
And the hated one, and not the hater, is the enemy?
Clearly.
Then many men are loved by their enemies, and hated by their
friends, and are the friends of their enemies, and the enemies of
their friends. Yet how absurd, my dear friend, or indeed impossible is
this paradox of a man being an enemy to his friend or a friend to
his enemy.
I quite agree, Socrates, in what you say.
But if this cannot be, the lover will be the friend of that which is
loved?
True.
And the hater will be the enemy of that which is hated?
Certainly.
Yet we must acknowledge in this, as in the preceding instance,
that a man may be the friend of one who is not his friend, or who
may be his enemy, when he loves that which does not love him or
which even hates him. And he may be the enemy of one who is not his
enemy, and is even his friend: for example, when he hates that which
does not hate him, or which even loves him.
That appears to be true.
But if the lover is not a friend, nor the beloved a friend, nor both
together, what are we to say? Whom are we to call friends to one
another? Do any remain?
Indeed, Socrates, I cannot find any.
But, O Menexenus! I said, may we not have been altogether wrong in
our conclusions?
I am sure that we have been wrong, Socrates, said Lysis. And he
blushed as he spoke, the words seeming to come from his lips
involuntarily, because his whole mind was taken up with the
argument; there was no mistaking his attentive look while he was
listening.
I was pleased at the interest which was shown by Lysis, and I wanted
to give Menexenus a rest, so I turned to him and said, I think, Lysis,
that what you say is true, and that, if we had been right, we should
never have gone so far wrong; let us proceed no further in this
direction (for the road seems to be getting troublesome), but take the
other path into which we turned, and see what the poets have to say;
for they are to us in a manner the fathers and authors of wisdom,
and they speak of friends in no light or trivial manner, but God
himself, as they say, makes them and draws them to one another; and
this they express, if I am not mistaken, in the following words:-
God is ever drawing like towards like, and
making them acquainted.
I dare say that you have heard those words.
Yes, he said; I have.
And have you not also met with the treatises of philosophers who say
that like must love like? they are the people who argue and write
about nature and the universe.
Very true, he replied.
And are they right in saying this?
They may be.
Perhaps, I said, about half, or possibly, altogether, right, if
their meaning were rightly apprehended by us. For the more a bad man
has to do with a bad man, and the more nearly he is brought into
contact with him, the more he will be likely to hate him, for he
injures him; and injurer and injured cannot be friends. Is not that
true?
Yes, he said.
Then one half of the saying is untrue, if the wicked are like one
another?
That is true.
But the real meaning of the saying, as I imagine, is, that, the good
are like one another, friends to one another; and that the bad, as
is often said of them, are never at unity with one another or with
themselves; for they are passionate and restless, and anything which
is at variance and enmity with itself is not likely to be in union
or harmony with any other thing. Do you not agree?
Yes, I do.
Then, my friend, those who say that the like is friendly to the like
mean to intimate, if I rightly apprehend them, that the good only is
the friend of the good, and of him only; but that the evil never
attains to any real friendship, either with good or evil. Do you
agree?
He nodded assent.
Then now we know how to answer the question "Who are friends? for
the argument declares "That the good are friends."
Yes, he said, that is true.
Yes, I replied; and yet I am not quite satisfied with this answer.
By heaven, and shall I tell you what I suspect? I will. Assuming
that like, inasmuch as he is like, is the friend of like, and useful
to him-or rather let me try another way of putting the matter: Can
like do any good or harm to like which he could not do to himself,
or suffer anything from his like which he would not suffer from
himself? And if neither can be of any use to the other, how can they
be loved by one another? Can they now?
They cannot.
And can he who is not loved be a friend?
Certainly not.
But say that the like is not the friend of the like in so far as
he is like; still the good may be the friend of the good in so far
as he is good?
True.
But then again, will not the good, in so far as he is good, be
sufficient for himself? Certainly he will. And he who is sufficient
wants nothing-that is implied in the word sufficient.
Of course not.
And he who wants nothing will desire nothing?
He will not.
Neither can he love that which he does not desire?
He cannot.
And he who not is not a lover of friend?
Clearly not.
What place then is there for friendship, if, when absent, good men
have no need of one another (for even when alone they are sufficient
for themselves), and when present have no use of one another? How
can such persons ever be induced to value one another?
They cannot.
And friends they cannot be, unless they value one another?
Very true.
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