erately knows how to read; but he who reads wrong
without design is an ignorant man." "You say true." "Tell me likewise,"
pursued Socrates, "which knows best what ought to be done, and what
belongs to justice, he who lies and cheats with premeditate design, or he
who deceives without intention to deceive?" "It is most plain," said
Euthydemus, "that it is he who deceives with premeditate design." "But
you said," replied Socrates, "that he who can read is more learned than
he who cannot read?" "I did so." "Therefore he who best knows which are
the duties of justice is more just than he that knows them not." "It
seems to be so," answered Euthydemus, "and I know not well how I came to
say what I did." "Indeed," said Socrates, "you often change your
opinion, and contradict what you say; and what would you yourself think
of any man who pretended to tell the truth, and yet never said the same
thing; who, in pointing out to you the same road, should show you
sometimes east, sometimes west, and who, in telling the same sum, should
find more money at one time than another; what would you think of such a
man?" "He would make all men think," answered Euthydemus, "that he knew
nothing of what he pretended to know."

Socrates urged him yet further, and asked him: "Have you ever heard say
that some men have abject and servile minds?" "I have." "Is it said of
them because they are learned or because they are ignorant?" "Surely
because they are ignorant." "Perhaps," said Socrates, "it is because
they understand not the trade of a smith?" "Not in the least for that."
"Is it because they know not how to build a house, or to make shoes?" "By
no means," said Euthydemus; "for most who are skilled in such professions
have likewise abject and servile minds." "This character, then," pursued
Socrates, "must be given to those who are ignorant of the noble sciences,
and who know not what is just nor what is honourable?" "I believe so."
"We ought, therefore, Euthydemus, to do all we can to avoid falling into
that ignominious ignorance that sinks us down so low." "Alas, Socrates!"
cried he out, "I will not lie for the matter; I thought I knew something
in philosophy, and that I had learnt whatever was requisite to be known
by a man who desired to make a practice of virtue; but judge how much I
am afflicted to see that, after all my labours, I am not able to answer
you concerning things which I ought chiefly to know; and yet I am at a