not the courageous man also go to meet the better, and
pleasanter, and nobler?

That must be admitted.

And the courageous man has no base fear or base confidence?

True, he replied.

And if not base, then honourable?

He admitted this.

And if honourable, then good?

Yes.

But the fear and confidence of the coward or foolhardy or madman, on the
contrary, are base?

He assented.

And these base fears and confidences originate in ignorance and
uninstructedness?

True, he said.

Then as to the motive from which the cowards act, do you call it
cowardice or courage?

I should say cowardice, he replied.

And have they not been shown to be cowards through their ignorance of
dangers?

Assuredly, he said.

And because of that ignorance they are cowards?

He assented.

And the reason why they are cowards is admitted by you to be cowardice?

He again assented.

Then the ignorance of what is and is not dangerous is cowardice?

He nodded assent.

But surely courage, I said, is opposed to cowardice?

Yes.

Then the wisdom which knows what are and are not dangers is opposed to
the ignorance of them?

To that again he nodded assent.

And the ignorance of them is cowardice?

To that he very reluctantly nodded assent.

And the knowledge of that which is and is not dangerous is courage, and
is opposed to the ignorance of these things?

At this point he would no longer nod assent, but was silent.

And why, I said, do you neither assent nor dissent, Protagoras?

Finish the argument by yourself, he said.

I only want to ask one more question, I said. I want to know whether
you still think that there are men who are most ignorant and yet most
courageous?

You seem to have a great ambition to make me answer, Socrates, and
therefore I will gratify you, and say, that this appears to me to be
impossible consistently with the argument.

My only object, I said, in continuing the discussion, has been the
desire to ascertain the nature and relations of virtue; for if this were
clear, I am very sure that the other controversy which has been carried
on at great length by both of us--you affirming and I denying that
virtue can be taught--would also become clear. The result of our
discussion appears to me to be singular. For if the argument had a human
voice, that voice would be heard laughing at us and saying: 'Protagoras
and Socrates, you are strange beings; there are you, Socrates, who were
saying tha