phaedrus   

is oppressed at the strangeness of her condition, and is in a great

strait and excitement, and in her madness can neither sleep by night

nor abide in her place by day. And wherever she thinks that she will

behold the beautiful one, thither in her desire she runs. And when she

has seen him, and bathed herself in the waters of beauty, her

constraint is loosened, and she is refreshed, and has no more pangs

and pains; and this is the sweetest of all pleasures at the time,

and is the reason why the soul of the lover will never forsake his

beautiful one, whom he esteems above all; he has forgotten mother

and brethren and companions, and he thinks nothing of the neglect

and loss of his property; the rules and proprieties of life, on

which he formerly prided himself, he now despises, and is ready to

sleep like a servant, wherever he is allowed, as near as he can to his

desired one, who is the object of his worship, and the physician who

can alone assuage the greatness of his pain. And this state, my dear

imaginary youth to whom I am talking, is by men called love, and among

the gods has a name at which you, in your simplicity, may be

inclined to mock; there are two lines in the apocryphal writings of

Homer in which the name occurs. One of them is rather outrageous,

and not altogether metrical. They are as follows:



Mortals call him fluttering love,

But the immortals call him winged one,

Because the growing of wings is a necessity to him.



You may believe this, but not unless you like. At any rate the loves

of lovers and their causes are such as I have described.

Now the lover who is taken to be the attendant of Zeus is better

able to bear the winged god, and can endure a heavier burden; but

the attendants and companions of Ares, when under the influence of

love, if they fancy that they have been at all wronged, are ready to

kill and put an end to themselves and their beloved. And he who