lysis,-or-friendship   

nearly making a blunder, for I was going to say to him: That is the
way, Hippothales, in which you should talk to your beloved, humbling
and lowering him, and not as you do, puffing him up and spoiling him.
But I saw that he was in great excitement and confusion at what had
been said, and I remembered that, although he was in the
neighbourhood, he did not want to be seen by Lysis; so upon second
thoughts I refrained.
In the meantime Menexenus came back and sat down in his place by
Lysis; and Lysis, in a childish and affectionate manner, whispered
privately in my ear, so that Menexenus should not hear: Do, Socrates,
tell Menexenus what you have been telling me.
Suppose that you tell him yourself, Lysis, I replied; for I am sure
that you were attending.
Certainly, he replied.
Try, then, to remember the words, and be as exact as you can in
repeating them to him, and if you have forgotten anything, ask me
again the next time that you see me.
I will be sure to do so, Socrates; but go on telling him something
new, and let me hear, as long as I am allowed to stay.
I certainly cannot refuse, I said, since you ask me; but then, as you
know, Menexenus is very pugnacious, and therefore you must come to the
rescue if he attempts to upset me.
Yes, indeed, he said; he is very pugnacious, and that is the reason
why I want you to argue with him.
That I may make a fool of myself?
No, indeed, he said; but I want you to put him down.
That is no easy matter, I replied; for he is a terrible fellow-a pupil
of Ctesippus. And there is Ctesippus himself: do you see him?
Never mind, Socrates, you shall argue with him.
Well, I suppose that I must, I replied.
Hereupon Ctesippus complained that we were talking in secret, and
keeping the feast to ourselves.
I shall be happy, I said, to let you have a share. Here is Lysis, who
does not understand something that I was saying, and wants me to ask
Menexenus, who, as he thinks, is likely to know.
And why do you not ask him? he said.
Very well, I said, I will; and do you, Menexenus, answer. But first I
must tell you that I am one who from my childhood upward have set my
heart upon a certain thing. All people have their fancies; some desire
horses, and others dogs; and some are fond of gold, and others of
honour. Now, I have no violent desire of any of these things; but I
have a passion for friends; and I would rather have a good friend than
the best cock or quail in the world: I would even go further, and say
the best horse or dog. Yea, by the dog of Egypt, I should greatly
prefer a real friend to all the gold of Darius, or even to Darius
himself: I am such a lover of friends as that. And when I see you and
Lysis, at your early age, so easily possessed of this treasure, and so
soon, he of you, and you of him, I am amazed and delighted, seeing
that I myself, although I am now advanced in years, am so far from
having made a similar acquisition, that I do not even know in what way
a friend is acquired. But want to ask you a question about this, for
you have experience: tell me then, when one loves another, is the
lover or the beloved the friend; or may either be the friend?
Either may, I should think, be the friend of either.
Do you mean, I said, that if only one of them loves the other, they
are mutual friends?
Yes, he said; that is my meaning.
But what if the lover is not loved in return? which is a very possible
case.
Yes.
Or is, perhaps, even hated? which is a fancy which sometimes is
entertained by lovers respecting their beloved. Nothing can exceed
their love; and yet they imagine either that they are not loved in
return, or that they are hated. Is not that true?