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Euth. I hope that he may; but I rather fear, Socrates, that the
opposite will turn out to be the truth. My opinion is that in
attacking you he is simply aiming a blow at the foundation of the
state. But in what way does he say that you corrupt the young?
Soc. He brings a wonderful accusation against me, which at first
hearing excites surprise: he says that I am a poet or maker of gods,
and that I invent new gods and deny the existence of old ones; this is
the ground of his indictment.
Euth. I understand, Socrates; he means to attack you about the
familiar sign which occasionally, as you say, comes to you. He
thinks that you are a neologian, and he is going to have you up before
the court for this. He knows that such a charge is readily received by
the world, as I myself know too well; for when I speak in the assembly
about divine things, and foretell the future to them, they laugh at me
and think me a madman. Yet every word that I say is true. But they are
jealous of us all; and we must be brave and go at them.
Soc. Their laughter, friend Euthyphro, is not a matter of much
consequence. For a man may be thought wise; but the Athenians, I
suspect, do not much trouble themselves about him until he begins to
impart his wisdom to others, and then for some reason or other,
perhaps, as you say, from jealousy, they are angry.
Euth. I am never likely to try their temper in this way.
Soc. I dare say not, for you are reserved in your behaviour, and
seldom impart your wisdom. But I have a benevolent habit of pouring
out myself to everybody, and would even pay for a listener, and I am
afraid that the Athenians may think me too talkative. Now if, as I was
saying, they would only laugh at me, as you say that they laugh at
you, the time might pass gaily enough in the court; but perhaps they
may be in earnest, and then what the end will be you soothsayers
only can predict.
Euth. I dare say that the affair will end in nothing, Socrates,
and that you will win your cause; and I think that I shall win my own.
Soc. And what is your suit, Euthyphro? are you the pursuer or the
defendant?
Euth. I am the pursuer.
Soc. Of whom?
Euth. You will think me mad when I tell you.
Soc. Why, has the fugitive wings?
Euth. Nay, he is not very volatile at his time of life.
Soc. Who is he?
Euth. My father.
Soc. Your father! my good man?
Euth. Yes.
Soc. And of what is he accused?
Euth. Of murder, Socrates.
Soc. By the powers, Euthyphro! how little does the common herd
know of the nature of right and truth. A man must be an
extraordinary man, and have made great strides in wisdom, before he
could have seen his way to bring such an action.
Euth. Indeed, Socrates, he must.
Soc. I suppose that the man whom your father murdered was one of
your relatives-clearly he was; for if he had been a stranger you would
never have thought of prosecuting him.
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