meno   

and justice you acknowledge to be a part of virtue.

Men. Yes.

Soc. Then it follows from your own admissions, that virtue is

doing what you do with a part of virtue; for justice and the like

are said by you to be parts of virtue.

Men. What of that?

Soc. What of that! Why, did not I ask you to tell me the nature of

virtue as a whole? And you are very far from telling me this; but

declare every action to be virtue which is done with a part of virtue;

as though you had told me and I must already know the whole of virtue,

and this too when frittered away into little pieces. And, therefore,

my dear I fear that I must begin again and repeat the same question:

What is virtue? for otherwise, I can only say, that every action

done with a part of virtue is virtue; what else is the meaning of

saying that every action done with justice is virtue? Ought I not to

ask the question over again; for can any one who does not know

virtue know a part of virtue?

Men. No; I do not say that he can.

Soc. Do you remember how, in the example of figure, we rejected any

answer given in terms which were as yet unexplained or unadmitted?

Men. Yes, Socrates; and we were quite right in doing so.

Soc. But then, my friend, do not suppose that we can explain to any

one the nature of virtue as a whole through some unexplained portion

of virtue, or anything at all in that fashion; we should only have

to ask over again the old question, What is virtue? Am I not right?

Men. I believe that you are.

Soc. Then begin again, and answer me, What, according to you and

your friend Gorgias, is the definition of virtue?

Men. O Socrates, I used to be told, before I knew you, that you

were always doubting yourself and making others doubt; and now you are

casting your spells over me, and I am simply getting bewitched and

enchanted, and am at my wits' end. And if I may venture to make a jest