 Phaedrus, my friend, where are you going, and where are you coming from? Well, Socrates, I'm coming from a long session with Lyceus, the son of Kefalus. Now I'm going for a walk outside the wall. I've been sitting since early this morning, and our mutual friend, Archumanus, has convinced me that walking on the open road is more refreshing than in the arcade. He is right about that, my friend. No, it seems that Lyceus is in town. Yes, he's staying at Epicratey's house, the one near the temple of Olympian Zeus that used to belong to Moricus. Ah, what were you doing there all morning? Oh, no doubt Lyceus treated you to a feast of words. Well, you can find out if you have time to walk along and listen. What are you saying? Don't you know that hearing how you and Lyceus spent your time is, as Pindar said, the most important business? Then let's go. Now, tell me. Socrates, this is especially appropriate for you to hear. We were discussing the nature of love. Lyceus wrote about a young beauty being seduced, not by a lover, but by someone who is not in love, using a subtle argument to show that one should gratify someone who is not in love, rather than one who is. That suits him well. But I would rather have him write that they should gratify poor people rather than rich ones and older rather than young ones. Qualities that I and most other people have. Then his speech would be really clever and useful to the public. But I am so intent on hearing it that I will stay with you even if you walk as far as Megara, or as Heronica says, go to the wall and back again. Socrates, my dear friend, what do you mean? Do you think that I, an ordinary person, could recall and do justice to what a brilliant writer such as Lyceus composed with plenty of time and great care? That would be impossible. Even though I would rather be able to do that than make a lot of money. Oh, Phaedrus, if I don't know Phaedrus, I don't even know myself. But that's not true. I know that Phaedrus heard the speech not once but many times, begging Lyceus to repeat it several times, which he was eager to do. But even that was not enough for him. He got hold of the manuscript and spent the rest of the morning studying his favorite parts. Eventually he got tired and went for a walk. Unless it was unusually long, I suspect he memorized the whole speech and decided to go outside the city wall to practice reciting it. On the way he chanced to meet a man who has a compulsive love for speaking, so he was delighted to find someone to share his choreobantic frenzy and invited him to come along. But when that man asked him to recite the speech, he pretended to be shy, knowing full well that in the end he would deliver the speech even without an audience. So, Phaedrus, beg him to do now what he will eventually do anyway. And I suppose I should present the speech as well as I can since you're not about to leave me alone until I speak one way or another. You are right about that. Then that's what I will do. Socrates, it is true that I have not memorized every word. But I can present the gist of what he said. I can begin at the beginning and go through all the main points in order, explaining the difference between making love to a lover and one who is not. My friend, first you have to show me what you have up your left sleeve. I would guess that you have the speech itself. If so, you can be sure that even though I am fond of you, I will never let you practice your speechmaking on me if we have Lyceus himself. Come on now, show it to me. That's enough, Socrates. You've destroyed my hope of practicing on you. Where would you like to sit while I read? Let's leave the road here and walk along the Elysis River. Then we can sit down as soon as we find a quiet place. This is a good time. Sample complete. Ready to continue?