on satyr--for his talk is of pack-asses and smiths
and cobblers and curriers, and he is always repeating the same things
in the same words (compare Gorg.), so that any ignorant or inexperienced
person might feel disposed to laugh at him; but he who opens the bust
and sees what is within will find that they are the only words which
have a meaning in them, and also the most divine, abounding in fair
images of virtue, and of the widest comprehension, or rather extending
to the whole duty of a good and honourable man.

This, friends, is my praise of Socrates. I have added my blame of him
for his ill-treatment of me; and he has ill-treated not only me, but
Charmides the son of Glaucon, and Euthydemus the son of Diocles, and
many others in the same way--beginning as their lover he has ended by
making them pay their addresses to him. Wherefore I say to you, Agathon,
'Be not deceived by him; learn from me and take warning, and do not be a
fool and learn by experience, as the proverb says.'

When Alcibiades had finished, there was a laugh at his outspokenness;
for he seemed to be still in love with Socrates. You are sober,
Alcibiades, said Socrates, or you would never have gone so far about
to hide the purpose of your satyr's praises, for all this long story is
only an ingenious circumlocution, of which the point comes in by the
way at the end; you want to get up a quarrel between me and Agathon, and
your notion is that I ought to love you and nobody else, and that you
and you only ought to love Agathon. But the plot of this Satyric or
Silenic drama has been detected, and you must not allow him, Agathon, to
set us at variance.

I believe you are right, said Agathon, and I am disposed to think that
his intention in placing himself between you and me was only to divide
us; but he shall gain nothing by that move; for I will go and lie on the
couch next to you.

Yes, yes, replied Socrates, by all means come here and lie on the couch
below me.

Alas, said Alcibiades, how I am fooled by this man; he is determined to
get the better of me at every turn. I do beseech you, allow Agathon to
lie between us.

Certainly not, said Socrates, as you praised me, and I in turn ought to
praise my neighbour on the right, he will be out of order in praising me
again when he ought rather to be praised by me, and I must entreat you
to consent to this, and not be jealous, for I have a great desire to
praise the youth.

Hurrah! cried Agathon, I