"What do they say?" shouted Philogamus. "They say they will not go unless, according to the promises of Darbius and Ascuthius, all the unmarried men are taken first;" and he began once more beating his breast and glaring with his eyes like a dog who has been for long without water.
"Softly, my good friend," said Socrates, "softly. As to the promise, I know it is being rigidly kept. All the willing single men are gone or going, and the unwilling are being compelled to join as quickly as is possible. What more can be done?"
"Something ought to be done."
"That is very true," said Socrates; "something ought always to be getting itself done, and the something at this moment is that the Barbarians ought to be beaten. But tell me, with regard to the married men, are they not concerned in the safety and welfare of the State?"
"That, indeed, they are," said Philogamus; "none more so."
"In that case why do they hang back and complain when the State declares that its safety and welfare demand that they should be ready to go? Because one here and there has concealed himself, is it for you, a married man, to retire when by going you might help to thrust back the Barbarians? Are you one of those that are called the attested ones?"
"Yes, that I am," said Philogamus, proudly displaying his brown armlet with the red crown.
"Then it is you, as it appears to me, who have given a pledge and made a promise, and that promise, I am sure, you will fulfil to the best of your ability. When the time comes it is for you to go at once and not to weary the market-place with empty noise and murmurs of complaint. For remember this: the man who has taken a wife and has brought up children under the State's protection owes more, if it be possible...."
(Here the fragment ends.)