A. “But if each is equally sincere in speaking what he believes, is not each equally moved by the spirit of truth?”
S. “You seem to have been lately initiated, and that not at Eleusis merely, nor in the Cabiria, but rather in some Persian or Babylonian mysteries, when you discourse thus of spirits. But you, Phaethon” (turning to me), “how did you like the periods of Protagoras?”
“Do not ask me, Socrates,” said I, “for indeed we have fought a weary battle together ever since sundown last night, and all that I had to say I learnt from you.”
S. “From me, good fellow?”
PHAETHON. “Yes, indeed. I seemed to have heard from you that truth is simply ‘facts as they are.’ But when I urged this on Alcibiades, his arguments seemed superior to mine.”
A. “But I have been telling him, drunk and sober, that it is my opinion also as to what truth is. Only I, with Protagoras, distinguish between objective fact and subjective opinion.”
S. “Doing rightly, too, fair youth. But how comes it then that you and Phaethon cannot agree?”
“That,” said I, “you know better than either of us.”
“You seem both of you,” said Socrates, “to be, as usual, in the family way. Shall I exercise my profession on you?”
“No, by Zeus!” answered Alcibiades, laughing; “I fear thee, thou juggler, lest I suffer once again the same fate with the woman in the myth, and after I have conceived a fair man-child, and, as I fancy, brought it forth; thou hold up to the people some dead puppy, or log, or what not, and cry: ‘Look what Alcibiades has produced!’”