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Greek text

τὸ δὲ μάθημά ἐστιν εὐβουλία περὶ τῶν οἰκείων, ὅπως ἂν ἄριστα τὴν αὑτοῦ οἰκίαν διοικοῖ, [319a] καὶ περὶ τῶν τῆς πόλεως, ὅπως τὰ τῆς πόλεως δυνατώτατος ἂν εἴη καὶ πράττειν καὶ λέγειν.
ἆρα, ἔφην ἐγώ, ἕπομαί σου τῷ λόγῳ; δοκεῖς γάρ μοι λέγειν τὴν πολιτικὴν τέχνην καὶ ὑπισχνεῖσθαι ποιεῖν ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς πολίτας.
αὐτὸ μὲν οὖν τοῦτό ἐστιν, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, τὸ ἐπάγγελμα ὃ ἐπαγγέλλομαι.
ἦ καλόν, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, τέχνημα ἄρα κέκτησαι, εἴπερ κέκτησαι: οὐ γάρ τι ἄλλο πρός γε σὲ εἰρήσεται ἢ ἅπερ νοῶ. ἐγὼ γὰρ τοῦτο, ὦ Πρωταγόρα, οὐκ ᾤμην διδακτὸν [319b] εἶναι, σοὶ δὲ λέγοντι οὐκ ἔχω ὅπως [ἂν] ἀπιστῶ. ὅθεν δὲ αὐτὸ ἡγοῦμαι οὐ διδακτὸν εἶναι μηδ᾽ ὑπ᾽ ἀνθρώπων παρασκευαστὸν ἀνθρώποις, δίκαιός εἰμι εἰπεῖν. ἐγὼ γὰρ Ἀθηναίους, ὥσπερ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι Ἕλληνες, φημὶ σοφοὺς εἶναι. ὁρῶ οὖν, ὅταν συλλεγῶμεν εἰς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν, ἐπειδὰν μὲν περὶ οἰκοδομίας τι δέῃ πρᾶξαι τὴν πόλιν, τοὺς οἰκοδόμους μεταπεμπομένους συμβούλους περὶ τῶν οἰκοδομημάτων, ὅταν δὲ περὶ ναυπηγίας, τοὺς ναυπηγούς, καὶ τἆλλα πάντα οὕτως, [319c] ὅσα ἡγοῦνται μαθητά τε καὶ διδακτὰ εἶναι: ἐὰν δέ τις ἄλλος ἐπιχειρῇ αὐτοῖς συμβουλεύειν ὃν ἐκεῖνοι μὴ οἴονται δημιουργὸν εἶναι, κἂν πάνυ καλὸς ᾖ καὶ πλούσιος καὶ τῶν γενναίων, οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον ἀποδέχονται, ἀλλὰ καταγελῶσι καὶ θορυβοῦσιν, ἕως ἂν ἢ αὐτὸς ἀποστῇ ὁ ἐπιχειρῶν λέγειν καταθορυβηθείς, ἢ οἱ τοξόται αὐτὸν ἀφελκύσωσιν ἢ ἐξάρωνται κελευόντων τῶν πρυτάνεων. περὶ μὲν οὖν ὧν οἴονται ἐν τέχνῃ εἶναι, οὕτω διαπράττονται: ἐπειδὰν δέ τι περὶ τῶν τῆς [319d] πόλεως διοικήσεως δέῃ βουλεύσασθαι, συμβουλεύει αὐτοῖς ἀνιστάμενος περὶ τούτων ὁμοίως μὲν τέκτων, ὁμοίως δὲ χαλκεὺς σκυτοτόμος, ἔμπορος ναύκληρος, πλούσιος πένης, γενναῖος ἀγεννής, καὶ τούτοις οὐδεὶς τοῦτο ἐπιπλήττει ὥσπερ τοῖς πρότερον, ὅτι οὐδαμόθεν μαθών, οὐδὲ ὄντος διδασκάλου οὐδενὸς αὐτῷ, ἔπειτα συμβουλεύειν ἐπιχειρεῖ: δῆλον γὰρ ὅτι οὐχ ἡγοῦνται διδακτὸν εἶναι. μὴ τοίνυν ὅτι τὸ κοινὸν τῆς [319e] πόλεως οὕτως ἔχει, ἀλλὰ ἰδίᾳ ἡμῖν οἱ σοφώτατοι καὶ ἄριστοι τῶν πολιτῶν ταύτην τὴν ἀρετὴν ἣν ἔχουσιν οὐχ οἷοί τε ἄλλοις παραδιδόναι:

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

What I teach is good judgment in domestic matters, so he can best manage his own household, as well as in public matters, so he can both act and speak most effectively when it comes to his city.”

I said, “Do I follow what you’re saying? I get the feeling you’re talking about expertise in citizenship and that you’re claiming to be in the business of turning men into good citizens.”

“That’s exactly what I’m advertising.”

“Well, you certainly have a nice trick up your sleeve … if you have it. You see, Protagoras, I won’t tell you anything I don’t really think. The thing is, I've always thought this skill couldn't be taught. But I have to believe you when you say that you do teach it. So it’s up to me to tell you where I got the idea that it can’t be taught or even passed on from person to person. It's because I maintain, along with everyone else in Greece, that the Athenians are clever. Now I’ve noticed that when we gather in the Assembly and the city has to do something to do with building, they get the builders to come as building consultants. When it's to do with shipbuilding, they get the ship-builders to come, and the same thing for everything else they think can be taught and learned. But if someone they don’t consider an expert tries to give them advice, no matter how beautiful or rich or upper-crust he is, they still won’t have any of it. Instead, they boo him and shout him down, until the would-be speaker either takes the hint and leaves when he gets shouted down or the archers drag or carry him off at the orders of the executive council. So that’s what they do when they think it’s a technical matter. But when they have to decide on something to do with managing the city, anyone who stands up advises them on the same footing on this, whether he’s a carpenter, a metal-worker, a shoemaker, a retailer, or a ship-owner, rich or poor, connections or no connections. Unlike before, no one lashes out at them out saying, ‘This guy hasn’t learned anywhere, doesn’t have a teacher, and here he is trying to give advice.’ Clearly that’s because they don’t think it can be taught. Not only is this true in the public affairs of the city, but also in private, where our wisest and best citizens can’t pass on this goodness they have to others.”

Jowett's translation (1871)

And this is prudence in affairs private as well as public; he will learn to order his own house in the best manner, and he will be able to speak and act for the best in the affairs of the state.
Do I understand you, I said; and is your meaning that you teach the art of politics, and that you promise to make men good citizens?
That, Socrates, is exactly the profession which I make.
Then, I said, you do indeed possess a noble art, if there is no mistake about this; for I will freely confess to you, Protagoras, that I have a doubt whether this art is capable of being taught, and yet I know not how to disbelieve your assertion. And I ought to tell you why I am of opinion that this art cannot be taught or communicated by man to man. I say that the Athenians are an understanding people, and indeed they are esteemed to be such by the other Hellenes. Now I observe that when we are met together in the assembly, and the matter in hand relates to building, the builders are summoned as advisers; when the question is one of shipbuilding, then the ship-wrights; and the like of other arts which they think capable of being taught and learned. And if some person offers to give them advice who is not supposed by them to have any skill in the art, even though he be good-looking, and rich, and noble, they will not listen to him, but laugh and hoot at him, until either he is clamoured down and retires of himself; or if he persist, he is dragged away or put out by the constables at the command of the prytanes. This is their way of behaving about professors of the arts. But when the question is an affair of state, then everybody is free to have a say-carpenter, tinker, cobbler, sailor, passenger; rich and poor, high and low-any one who likes gets up, and no one reproaches him, as in the former case, with not having learned, and having no teacher, and yet giving advice; evidently because they are under the impression that this sort of knowledge cannot be taught. And not only is this true of the state, but of individuals; the best and wisest of our citizens are unable to impart their political wisdom to others:

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

[318a] καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον ὅτι ἡ αὐτή μοι ἀρχή ἐστιν, ὦ Πρωταγόρα, ἥπερ ἄρτι, περὶ ὧν ἀφικόμην. Ἱπποκράτης γὰρ ὅδε τυγχάνει ἐν ἐπιθυμίᾳ ὢν τῆς σῆς συνουσίας: ὅτι οὖν αὐτῷ ἀποβήσεται, ἐάν σοι συνῇ, ἡδέως ἄν φησι πυθέσθαι. τοσοῦτος ὅ γε ἡμέτερος λόγος.
ὑπολαβὼν οὖν ὁ Πρωταγόρας εἶπεν: ὦ νεανίσκε, ἔσται τοίνυν σοι, ἐὰν ἐμοὶ συνῇς, ᾗ ἂν ἡμέρᾳ ἐμοὶ συγγένῃ, ἀπιέναι οἴκαδε βελτίονι γεγονότι, καὶ ἐν τῇ ὑστεραίᾳ ταὐτὰ ταῦτα: καὶ ἑκάστης ἡμέρας ἀεὶ ἐπὶ τὸ βέλτιον ἐπιδιδόναι. [318b]
καὶ ἐγὼ ἀκούσας εἶπον: ὦ Πρωταγόρα, τοῦτο μὲν οὐδὲν θαυμαστὸν λέγεις, ἀλλὰ εἰκός, ἐπεὶ κἂν σύ, καίπερ τηλικοῦτος ὢν καὶ οὕτως σοφός, εἴ τίς σε διδάξειεν ὃ μὴ τυγχάνοις ἐπιστάμενος, βελτίων ἂν γένοιο. ἀλλὰ μὴ οὕτως, ἀλλ᾽ ὥσπερ ἂν εἰ αὐτίκα μάλα μεταβαλὼν τὴν ἐπιθυμίαν Ἱπποκράτης ὅδε ἐπιθυμήσειεν τῆς συνουσίας τούτου τοῦ νεανίσκου τοῦ νῦν νεωστὶ ἐπιδημοῦντος, Ζευξίππου τοῦ Ἡρακλεώτου, καὶ ἀφικόμενος παρ᾽ αὐτόν, ὥσπερ παρὰ σὲ [318c] νῦν, ἀκούσειεν αὐτοῦ ταὐτὰ ταῦτα ἅπερ σοῦ, ὅτι ἑκάστης ἡμέρας συνὼν αὐτῷ βελτίων ἔσται καὶ ἐπιδώσει, εἰ αὐτὸν ἐπανέροιτο: “τί δὴ φῂς βελτίω ἔσεσθαι καὶ εἰς τί ἐπιδώσειν;” εἴποι ἂν αὐτῷ ὁ Ζεύξιππος ὅτι πρὸς γραφικήν: κἂν εἰ Ὀρθαγόρᾳ τῷ Θηβαίῳ συγγενόμενος, ἀκούσας ἐκείνου ταὐτὰ ταῦτα ἅπερ σοῦ, ἐπανέροιτο αὐτὸν εἰς ὅτι βελτίων καθ᾽ ἡμέραν ἔσται συγγιγνόμενος ἐκείνῳ, εἴποι ἂν ὅτι εἰς αὔλησιν: οὕτω δὴ καὶ σὺ εἰπὲ τῷ νεανίσκῳ καὶ ἐμοὶ ὑπὲρ [318d] τούτου ἐρωτῶντι, Ἱπποκράτης ὅδε Πρωταγόρᾳ συγγενόμενος, ᾗ ἂν αὐτῷ ἡμέρᾳ συγγένηται, βελτίων ἄπεισι γενόμενος καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ἡμερῶν ἑκάστης οὕτως ἐπιδώσει εἰς τί, ὦ Πρωταγόρα, καὶ περὶ τοῦ;
καὶ ὁ Πρωταγόρας ἐμοῦ ταῦτα ἀκούσας, σύ τε καλῶς ἐρωτᾷς, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, καὶ ἐγὼ τοῖς καλῶς ἐρωτῶσι χαίρω ἀποκρινόμενος. Ἱπποκράτης γὰρ παρ᾽ ἐμὲ ἀφικόμενος οὐ πείσεται ἅπερ ἂν ἔπαθεν ἄλλῳ τῳ συγγενόμενος τῶν σοφιστῶν. οἱ μὲν γὰρ ἄλλοι λωβῶνται τοὺς νέους: [318e] τὰς γὰρ τέχνας αὐτοὺς πεφευγότας ἄκοντας πάλιν αὖ ἄγοντες ἐμβάλλουσιν εἰς τέχνας, λογισμούς τε καὶ ἀστρονομίαν καὶ γεωμετρίαν καὶ μουσικὴν διδάσκοντες—καὶ ἅμα εἰς τὸν Ἱππίαν ἀπέβλεψεν—παρὰ δ᾽ ἐμὲ ἀφικόμενος μαθήσεται οὐ περὶ ἄλλου του ἢ περὶ οὗ ἥκει.

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

I said, “I’ll start in the same place I did just now, Protagoras, about what I came for. Hippocrates here really wants to spend time with you. So he says he would like to know what's in it for him. That’s all we have to say.”
Protagoras responded, “Young man, if you come and learn from me, that same day, you’ll go home better, and the same thing the next day. And every day after, you will make progress towards betterment.”
I said in turn, “Protagoras, what you’re saying is no surprise; it’s only to be expected. Even you, despite your age and wisdom would become better if someone taught you something you happened to not know. So don’t give me that; think of it this way: say Hippocrates here had a sudden change of heart and longed instead to spend time learning from this young man who’s new in town, Zeuxippus from Heraclea. Say Hippocrates came to him, like he’s come to you now, and heard the same things from him that he has from you: that every day he’s with him, he’d become better and make progress. What if Hippocrates kept asking, ‘Now, what exactly will I get better at and what am I going to make progress toward?’ Zeuxippus would tell him, ‘At painting.’ Now let’s say he went to study with Orthagoras the Theban, heard the same things he’s heard from you, and again asked him what exactly he’d get better at by spending every day with him, Orthagoras would tell him, ‘At playing the flute.’ Now in this way, tell the young man – and me, since I’m asking for him – if Hippocrates here spends time learning with Protagoras, he’ll go home better on the very first day he comes to study with him, and he'll make progress every other day after that, but toward what, Protagoras? In what area?”
Protagoras listened to me saying all this and said, “Excellent question, Socrates. I enjoy answering people who ask excellent questions. If Hippocrates comes to me, he won’t suffer what the other sophists would put him through. They treat young people disgracefully: just when they've managed to escape technical subjects, their teachers bring them back unwillingly and throw them into arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, and music again” — here, he looked over at Hippias. “But if he comes to me, he’ll learn nothing but what he came for.”

Jowett's translation (1871)

I replied: I will begin again at the same point, Protagoras, and tell you once more the purport of my visit: this is my friend Hippocrates, who is desirous of making your acquaintance; he would like to know what will happen to him if he associates with you. I have no more to say.

Protagoras answered: Young man, if you associate with me, on the very first day you will return home a better man than you came, and better on the second day than on the first, and better every day than you were on the day before.

When I heard this, I said: Protagoras, I do not at all wonder at hearing you say this; even at your age, and with all your wisdom, if any one were to teach you what you did not know before, you would become better no doubt: but please to answer in a different way-I will explain how by an example. Let me suppose that Hippocrates, instead of desiring your acquaintance, wished to become acquainted with the young man Zeuxippus of Heraclea, who has lately been in Athens, and he had come to him as he has come to you, and had heard him say, as he has heard you say, that every day he would grow and become better if he associated with him: and then suppose that he were to ask him, “In what shall I become better, and in what shall I grow?”-Zeuxippus would answer, “In painting.” And suppose that he went to Orthagoras the Theban, and heard him say the same thing, and asked him, “In what shall I become better day by day?” he would reply, “In flute-playing.” Now I want you to make the same sort of answer to this young man and to me, who am asking questions on his account. When you say that on the first day on which he associates with you he will return home a better man, and on every day will grow in like manner,-In what, Protagoras, will he be better? and about what?

When Protagoras heard me say this, he replied: You ask questions fairly, and I like to answer a question which is fairly put. If Hippocrates comes to me he will not experience the sort of drudgery with which other Sophists are in the habit of insulting their pupils; who, when they have just escaped from the arts, are taken and driven back into them by these teachers, and made to learn calculation, and astronomy, and geometry, and music (he gave a look at Hippias as he said this); but if he comes to me, he will learn that which he comes to learn.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

ἐγὼ δὲ τούτοις [317a] ἅπασιν κατὰ τοῦτο εἶναι οὐ συμφέρομαι· ἡγοῦμαι γὰρ αὐτοὺς οὔ τι διαπράξασθαι ὃ ἐβουλήθησαν—οὐ γὰρ λαθεῖν τῶν ἀνθρώπων τοὺς δυναμένους ἐν ταῖς πόλεσι πράττειν, ὧνπερ ἕνεκα ταῦτ’ ἐστὶν τὰ προσχήματα· ἐπεὶ οἵ γε πολλοὶ ὡς ἔπος εἰπεῖν οὐδὲν αἰσθάνονται, ἀλλ’ ἅττ’ ἂν οὗτοι διαγγέλλωσι, ταῦτα ὑμνοῦσιν—τὸ οὖν ἀποδιδράσκοντα μὴ δύνασθαι ἀποδρᾶναι, ἀλλὰ καταφανῆ εἶναι, πολλὴ μωρία καὶ τοῦ ἐπιχειρήματος, [317b] καὶ πολὺ δυσμενεστέρους παρέχεσθαι ἀνάγκη τοὺς ἀνθρώπους· ἡγοῦνται γὰρ τὸν τοιοῦτον πρὸς τοῖς ἄλλοις καὶ πανοῦργον εἶναι. ἐγὼ οὖν τούτων τὴν ἐναντίαν ἅπασαν ὁδὸν ἐλήλυθα, καὶ ὁμολογῶ τε σοφιστὴς εἶναι καὶ παιδεύειν ἀνθρώπους, καὶ εὐλάβειαν ταύτην οἶμαι βελτίω ἐκείνης εἶναι, τὸ ὁμολογεῖν μᾶλλον ἢ ἔξαρνον εἶναι· καὶ ἄλλας πρὸς ταύτῃ ἔσκεμμαι, ὥστε, σὺν θεῷ εἰπεῖν, μηδὲν δεινὸν πάσχειν διὰ [317c] τὸ ὁμολογεῖν σοφιστὴς εἶναι. καίτοι πολλά γε ἔτη ἤδη εἰμὶ ἐν τῇ τέχνῃ· καὶ γὰρ καὶ τὰ σύμπαντα πολλά μοί ἐστιν— οὐδενὸς ὅτου οὐ πάντων ἂν ὑμῶν καθ’ ἡλικίαν πατὴρ εἴην —ὥστε πολύ μοι ἥδιστόν ἐστιν, εἴ τι βούλεσθε, περὶ τούτων ἁπάντων ἐναντίον τῶν ἔνδον ὄντων τὸν λόγον ποιεῖσθαι.
καὶ ἐγώ—ὑπώπτευσα γὰρ βούλεσθαι αὐτὸν τῷ τε προδίκῳ καὶ τῷ Ἱππίᾳ ἐνδείξασθαι καὶ καλλωπίσασθαι ὅτι ἐρασταὶ [317d] αὐτοῦ ἀφιγμένοι εἶμεν— τί οὖν, ἔφην ἐγώ, οὐ καὶ πρόδικον καὶ Ἱππίαν ἐκαλέσαμεν καὶ τοὺς μετ’ αὐτῶν, ἵνα ἐπακούσωσιν ἡμῶν;
πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη ὁ Πρωταγόρας.
βούλεσθε οὖν, ὁ Καλλίας ἔφη, συνέδριον κατασκευάσωμεν, ἵνα καθεζόμενοι διαλέγησθε;
ἐδόκει χρῆναι· ἅσμενοι δὲ πάντες ἡμεῖς, ὡς ἀκουσόμενοι ἀνδρῶν σοφῶν, καὶ αὐτοί τε ἀντιλαβόμενοι τῶν βάθρων καὶ τῶν κλινῶν κατεσκευάζομεν παρὰ τῷ Ἱππίᾳ—ἐκεῖ γὰρ προϋπῆρχε τὰ βάθρα—ἐν δὲ τούτῳ Καλλίας τε καὶ Ἀλκιβιάδης [317e] ἡκέτην ἄγοντε τὸν πρόδικον, ἀναστήσαντες ἐκ τῆς κλίνης, καὶ τοὺς μετὰ τοῦ Προδίκου.
ἐπεὶ δὲ πάντες συνεκαθεζόμεθα, ὁ Πρωταγόρας, νῦν δὴ ἄν, ἔφη, λέγοις, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἐπειδὴ καὶ οἵδε πάρεισιν, περὶ ὧν ὀλίγον πρότερον μνείαν ἐποιοῦ πρὸς ἐμὲ ὑπὲρ τοῦ νεανίσκου.

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

“But I don’t put any stock in the method used by all these men, because I don’t think they achieved what they wanted. It never escaped the powerful people in the cities what these disguises were in service of. Of course, the common people barely notice anything and just recite the handful of things the powerful tell them. Now, running away, but not managing it and getting caught red-handed is really stupid and makes people even more hostile, so it’s not even worth trying. They just end up thinking that a guy like that is a crook on top of everything else. So, I’ve gone the totally opposite way: I admit that I’m a sophist and educate people, and I find that making the admission is better protection than denial. I’ve taken other precautions besides this, too, so that, god willing, nothing awful happens to me because I admit to being a sophist. What’s more, I’ve spent quite a few years in the business, and, as you can see, I’m pretty old: there’s not a single man here too old for me to be his father. That’s why I’d prefer to make my speech about these things, with your permission, in front of everyone in the house.”
I suspected he wanted to put on a show in front of Prodicus and Hippias and bask in the fact that we had come as big fans of his. I said, “OK, why don’t we call over Prodicus and Hippias and the others they’re with to come and listen to us?”
“By all means,” said Protagoras.
“If it suits you,” Callias added, “shall we draw up the chairs council-style, so you can have the discussion sitting down?”
We thought that was a good idea. Since we were so glad that we were going to get to listen to wise men, we helped with the chairs and couches ourselves. We set up by Hippias since the chairs were around him. Meanwhile, Callias and Alcibiades came together leading Prodicus – they’d managed to get him out of bed – and his entourage.
When we were all sitting down together, Protagoras resumed, “Now, since everyone’s here, could you repeat what you told me a moment ago on the young man’s behalf.”

Jowett's translation (1871)

But that is not my way, for I do not believe that they effected their purpose, which was to deceive the government, who were not blinded by them; and as to the people, they have no understanding, and only repeat what their rulers are pleased to tell them. Now to run away, and to be caught in running away, is the very height of folly, and also greatly increases the exasperation of mankind; for they regard him who runs away as a rogue, in addition to any other objections which they have to him; and therefore I take an entirely opposite course, and acknowledge myself to be a Sophist and instructor of mankind; such an open acknowledgement appears to me to be a better sort of caution than concealment. Nor do I neglect other precautions, and therefore I hope, as I may say, by the favour of heaven that no harm will come of the acknowledgment that I am a Sophist. And I have been now many years in the profession-for all my years when added up are many: there is no one here present of whom I might not be the father. Wherefore I should much prefer conversing with you, if you want to speak with me, in the presence of the company.

As I suspected that he would like to have a little display and glorification in the presence of Prodicus and Hippias, and would gladly show us to them in the light of his admirers, I said: But why should we not summon Prodicus and Hippias and their friends to hear us?

Very good, he said.
Suppose, said Callias, that we hold a council in which you may sit and discuss.-This was agreed upon, and great delight was felt at the prospect of hearing wise men talk; we ourselves took the chairs and benches, and arranged them by Hippias, where the other benches had been already placed. Meanwhile Callias and Alcibiades got Prodicus out of bed and brought in him and his companions.

When we were all seated, Protagoras said: Now that the company are assembled, Socrates, tell me about the youngman of whom you were just now speaking.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

περὶ δὲ ὧν διελέγοντο οὐκ ἐδυνάμην ἔγωγε μαθεῖν ἔξωθεν, καίπερ λιπαρῶς ἔχων ἀκούειν τοῦ Προδίκου—πάσσοφος γάρ μοι δοκεῖ ἁνὴρ [316a] εἶναι καὶ θεῖος—ἀλλὰ διὰ τὴν βαρύτητα τῆς φωνῆς βόμβος τις ἐν τῷ οἰκήματι γιγνόμενος ἀσαφῆ ἐποίει τὰ λεγόμενα. καὶ ἡμεῖς μὲν ἄρτι εἰσεληλύθεμεν, κατόπιν δὲ ἡμῶν ἐπεισῆλθον Ἀλκιβιάδης τε ὁ καλός, ὡς φῂς σὺ καὶ ἐγὼ πείθομαι, καὶ Κριτίας ὁ Καλλαίσχρου. ἡμεῖς οὖν ὡς εἰσήλθομεν, ἔτι σμίκρ’ ἄττα διατρίψαντες καὶ ταῦτα διαθεασάμενοι προσῇμεν πρὸς τὸν Πρωταγόραν, [316b] καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον· ὦ Πρωταγόρα, πρὸς σέ τοι ἤλθομεν ἐγώ τε καὶ Ἱπποκράτης οὗτος.
πότερον, ἔφη, μόνῳ βουλόμενοι διαλεχθῆναι ἢ καὶ μετὰ τῶν ἄλλων;
ἡμῖν μέν, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, οὐδὲν διαφέρει· ἀκούσας δὲ οὗ ἕνεκα ἤλθομεν, αὐτὸς σκέψαι.
τί οὖν δή ἐστιν, ἔφη, οὗ ἕνεκα ἥκετε;
Ἱπποκράτης ὅδε ἐστὶν μὲν τῶν ἐπιχωρίων, Ἀπολλοδώρου ὑός, οἰκίας μεγάλης τε καὶ εὐδαίμονος, αὐτὸς δὲ τὴν φύσιν δοκεῖ ἐνάμιλλος εἶναι τοῖς ἡλικιώταις. ἐπιθυμεῖν δέ μοι [316c] δοκεῖ ἐλλόγιμος γενέσθαι ἐν τῇ πόλει, τοῦτο δὲ οἴεταί οἱ μάλιστ’ ἂ γενέσθαι, εἰ σοὶ συγγένοιτο· ταῦτ’ οὖν ἤδη σὺ σκόπει, πότερον περὶ αὐτῶν μόνος οἴει δεῖν διαλέγεσθαι πρὸς μόνους, ἢ μετ’ ἄλλων.
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη, προμηθῇ, ὦ Σώκρατες, ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ. ξένον γὰρ ἄνδρα καὶ ἰόντα εἰς πόλεις μεγάλας, καὶ ἐν ταύταις πείθοντα τῶν νέων τοὺς βελτίστους ἀπολείποντας τὰς τῶν ἄλλων συνουσίας, καὶ οἰκείων καὶ ὀθνείων, καὶ πρεσβυτέρων καὶ νεωτέρων, ἑαυτῷ συνεῖναι ὡς βελτίους ἐσομένους διὰ [316d] τὴν ἑαυτοῦ συνουσίαν, χρὴ εὐλαβεῖσθαι τὸν ταῦτα πράττοντα· οὐ γὰρ σμικροὶ περὶ αὐτὰ φθόνοι τε γίγνονται καὶ ἄλλαι δυσμένειαί τε καὶ ἐπιβουλαί. ἐγὼ δὲ τὴν σοφιστικὴν τέχνην φημὶ μὲν εἶναι παλαιάν, τοὺς δὲ μεταχειριζομένους αὐτὴν τῶν παλαιῶν ἀνδρῶν, φοβουμένους τὸ ἐπαχθὲς αὐτῆς, πρόσχημα ποιεῖσθαι καὶ προκαλύπτεσθαι, τοὺς μὲν ποίησιν, οἷον Ὅμηρόν τε καὶ Ἡσίοδον καὶ Σιμωνίδην, τοὺς δὲ αὖ τελετάς τε καὶ χρησμῳδίας, τοὺς ἀμφί τε Ὀρφέα καὶ Μουσαῖον· ἐνίους δέ τινας ᾔσθημαι καὶ γυμναστικήν, οἷον Ἴκκος τε ὁ Ταραντῖνος καὶ ὁ νῦν ἔτι ὢν οὐδενὸς ἥττων σοφιστὴς [316e] Ἡρόδικος ὁ Σηλυμβριανός, τὸ δὲ ἀρχαῖον Μεγαρεύς· μουσικὴν δὲ Ἀγαθοκλῆς τε ὁ ὑμέτερος πρόσχημα ἐποιήσατο, μέγας ὢν σοφιστής, καὶ Πυθοκλείδης ὁ Κεῖος καὶ ἄλλοι πολλοί. οὗτοι πάντες, ὥσπερ λέγω, φοβηθέντες τὸν φθόνον ταῖς τέχναις ταύταις παραπετάσμασιν ἐχρήσαντο.

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

I couldn’t make out what they were discussing from outside, though I was really eager to listen to Prodicus. He’s a genius, I think, a phenomenon. Unfortunately, his voice is so deep that the room rumbled, making his words indistinct. As soon as we had made it inside, the beautiful Alcibiades – as you say, and I have to agree he is – and Critias the son of Callaeschrus came in after us. Once we were inside, we spent a little time taking a good look about, but then, we went up to Protagoras and I said, “Protagoras, you’re the man Hippocrates here and I are after.”
“Would you rather talk in private or in front of others?”
“It makes no difference to us. Listen to why we’ve come and you can decide.”
“So, why have you come?”
“Hippocrates here is a local, Apollodorus’ son, from an influential and prosperous family, and a match for any his age in talent. I get the impression he wants to become a public figure in the city, and he thinks the best way is by spending time with you. So what do you think now? Should we discuss this in private or with others present?”
“You’re right, for my sake, to be cautious, Socrates. A foreigner who visits powerful cities and persuades the best of their young men to abandon the company of all others – from one’s own family or another, young or old – and to spend time with himself instead in order to be the better for it – a man who does these things has to be careful. After all, doing so provokes no small amount of envy not to mention ill-will and plotting. I claim that sophistry is ancient, but because its earliest practitioners were afraid of the stigma, they tried to disguise it and pass it off as something else. Some did so as poetry, like Homer and Hesiod and Simonides, and others as mystical rites and prophecy, like the followers of Orpheus and Musaeus. I’ve heard some even pass it off as athletics, like Iccus from Tarentum as well as Herodicus the Selymbrian (an ex-Megarian), who’s still around and a sophist nonpareil. Your own Agathocles used music as a cover, although he was a great sophist, not to mention Pythocleides from Ceos and lots more. All of them, as I say, have used such professions as screens out of a fear of envy.”

Jowett's translation (1871)

I was very anxious to hear what Prodicus was saying, for he seems to me to be an all-wise and inspired man; but I was not able to get into the inner circle, and his fine deep voice made an echo in the room which rendered his words inaudible.
No sooner had we entered than there followed us Alcibiades the beautiful, as you say, and I believe you; and also Critias the son of Callaeschrus.
On entering we stopped a little, in order to look about us, and then walked up to Protagoras, and I said: Protagoras, my friend Hippocrates and I have come to see you.
Do you wish, he said, to speak with me alone, or in the presence of the company?
Whichever you please, I said; you shall determine when you have heard the purpose of our visit.
And what is your purpose? he said.

I must explain, I said, that my friend Hippocrates is a native Athenian; he is the son of Apollodorus, and of a great and prosperous house, and he is himself in natural ability quite a match for anybody of his own age. I believe that he aspires to political eminence; and this he thinks that conversation with you is most likely to procure for him. And now you can determine whether you would wish to speak to him of your teaching alone or in the presence of the company.

Thank you, Socrates, for your consideration of me. For certainly a stranger finding his way into great cities, and persuading the flower of the youth in them to leave company of their kinsmen or any other acquaintances, old or young, and live with him, under the idea that they will be improved by his conversation, ought to be very cautious; great jealousies are aroused by his proceedings, and he is the subject of many enmities and conspiracies. Now the art of the Sophist is, as I believe, of great antiquity; but in ancient times those who practised it, fearing this odium, veiled and disguised themselves under various names, some under that of poets, as Homer, Hesiod, and Simonides, some, of hierophants and prophets, as Orpheus and Musaeus, and some, as I observe, even under the name of gymnastic-masters, like Iccus of Tarentum, or the more recently celebrated Herodicus, now of Selymbria and formerly of Megara, who is a first-rate Sophist. Your own Agathocles pretended to be a musician, but was really an eminent Sophist; also Pythocleides the Cean; and there were many others; and all of them, as I was saying, adopted these arts as veils or disguises because they were afraid of the odium which they would incur.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

ἐπειδὴ δὲ εἰσήλθομεν, κατελάβομεν Πρωταγόραν ἐν τῷ προστῴῳ περιπατοῦντα, ἑξῆς δ’ αὐτῷ συμπεριεπάτουν ἐκ μὲν τοῦ ἐπὶ θάτερα Καλλίας ὁ Ἱππονίκου καὶ ὁ ἀδελφὸς αὐτοῦ [315a] ὁ ὁμομήτριος, Πάραλος ὁ Περικλέους, καὶ Χαρμίδης ὁ Γλαύκωνος, ἐκ δὲ τοῦ ἐπὶ θάτερα ὁ ἕτερος τῶν Περικλέους Ξάνθιππος, καὶ Φιλιππίδης ὁ Φιλομήλου καὶ Ἀντίμοιρος ὁ Μενδαῖος, ὅσπερ εὐδοκιμεῖ μάλιστα τῶν Πρωταγόρου μαθητῶν καὶ ἐπὶ τέχνῃ μανθάνει, ὡς σοφιστὴς ἐσόμενος. τούτων δὲ οἳ ὄπισθεν ἠκολούθουν ἐπακούοντες τῶν λεγομένων τὸ μὲν πολὺ ξένοι ἐφαίνοντο—οὓς ἄγει ἐξ ἑκάστων τῶν πόλεων ὁ Πρωταγόρας, δι’ ὧν διεξέρχεται, κηλῶν τῇ φωνῇ ὥσπερ [315b] Ὀρφεύς, οἱ δὲ κατὰ τὴν φωνὴν ἕπονται κεκηλημένοι— ἦσαν δέ τινες καὶ τῶν ἐπιχωρίων ἐν τῷ χορῷ. τοῦτον τὸν χορὸν μάλιστα ἔγωγε ἰδὼν ἥσθην, ὡς καλῶς ηὐλαβοῦντο μηδέποτε ἐμποδὼν ἐν τῷ πρόσθεν εἶναι Πρωταγόρου, ἀλλ’ ἐπειδὴ αὐτὸς ἀναστρέφοι καὶ οἱ μετ’ ἐκείνου, εὖ πως καὶ ἐν κόσμῳ περιεσχίζοντο οὗτοι οἱ ἐπήκοοι ἔνθεν καὶ ἔνθεν, καὶ ἐν κύκλῳ περιιόντες ἀεὶ εἰς τὸ ὄπισθεν καθίσταντο κάλλιστα.
τὸν δὲ μετ’ εἰσενόησα, ἔφη Ὅμηρος, Ἱππίαν τὸν [315c] Ἠλεῖον, καθήμενον ἐν τῷ κατ’ ἀντικρὺ προστῴῳ ἐν θρόνῳ· περὶ αὐτὸν δ’ ἐκάθηντο ἐπὶ βάθρων Ἐρυξίμαχός τε ὁ Ἀκουμενοῦ καὶ Φαῖδρος ὁ Μυρρινούσιος καὶ Ἄνδρων ὁ Ἀνδροτίωνος καὶ τῶν ξένων πολῖταί τε αὐτοῦ καὶ ἄλλοι τινές. ἐφαίνοντο δὲ περὶ φύσεώς τε καὶ τῶν μετεώρων ἀστρονομικὰ ἄττα διερωτᾶν τὸν Ἱππίαν, ὁ δ’ ἐν θρόνῳ καθήμενος ἑκάστοις αὐτῶν διέκρινεν καὶ διεξῄει τὰ ἐρωτώμενα.
καὶ μὲν δὴ καὶ Τάνταλόν γε εἰσεῖδον—ἐπεδήμει [315d] γὰρ ἄρα καὶ Πρόδικος ὁ Κεῖος—ἦν δὲ ἐν οἰκήματί τινι, ᾧ πρὸ τοῦ μὲν ὡς ταμιείῳ ἐχρῆτο Ἱππόνικος, νῦν δὲ ὑπὸ τοῦ πλήθους τῶν καταλυόντων ὁ Καλλίας καὶ τοῦτο ἐκκενώσας ξένοις κατάλυσιν πεποίηκεν. ὁ μὲν οὖν Πρόδικος ἔτι κατέκειτο, ἐγκεκαλυμμένος ἐν κῳδίοις τισὶν καὶ στρώμασιν καὶ μάλα πολλοῖς, ὡς ἐφαίνετο· παρεκάθηντο δὲ αὐτῷ ἐπὶ ταῖς πλησίον κλίναις Παυσανίας τε ὁ ἐκ Κεραμέων καὶ μετὰ Παυσανίου νέον τι ἔτι μειράκιον, ὡς μὲν ἐγᾦμαι καλόν τε [315e] κἀγαθὸν τὴν φύσιν, τὴν δ’ οὖν ἰδέαν πάνυ καλός. ἔδοξα ἀκοῦσαι ὄνομα αὐτῷ εἶναι Ἀγάθωνα, καὶ οὐκ ἂν θαυμάζοιμι εἰ παιδικὰ Παυσανίου τυγχάνει ὤν. τοῦτό τ’ ἦν τὸ μειράκιον, καὶ τὼ Ἀδειμάντω ἀμφοτέρω, ὅ τε Κήπιδος καὶ ὁ Λευκολοφίδου, καὶ ἄλλοι τινὲς ἐφαίνοντο·

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

And when we went in, we found Protagoras walking around the portico. Walking beside him on one side were Callias the son of Hipponicus, Paralus (his half-brother on his mother’s side and the son of Pericles), and Charmides the son of Glaucon; on the other were Xanthippus the other son of Pericles, and Philippides the son of Philomelus, and also Antimoirus from Mende who has the best reputation among Protagoras’ students and is learning the trade and planning to become a sophist. Others followed behind, listening to the conversation. Many of these were clearly foreigners – Protagoras gathers them from each town he passes through, and he charms them like Orpheus with his voice and they follow the voice bewitched. There were also some locals in this chorus. I really enjoyed watching it: they took such wonderful care never to get underfoot and in front of Protagoras. But when he and his companions turned around, the hangers-on split nice and neatly into two groups on either side, and each time they wheeled around in a circle and formed up again to the rear beautifully.

Then I beheld him, as Homer puts it – Hippias from Elis, sitting on a high chair in the opposite portico. On benches around him sat Eryximachus the son of Acumenus, Phaedrus from Myrrhinous, Andron the son of Androtion, and some foreigners, from Elis and elsewhere. They appeared to be asking Hippias sciencey stuff about nature and the sky, and he, sitting in judgment on his throne, was dispensing thorough answers to all of their questions.

'And then I saw Tantalus': Prodicus from Ceos - who knew? - was also in town. He was put up in a room Hipponicus used to use as a storeroom. Callias had emptied it out and converted it into a room for his lodgers, since there were so many of them. Prodicus was still in bed, bundled up it seemed under a pile of covers and bedspreads. Sitting around him on nearby couches were Pausanias from Cerameis, and, with him, a youngster I thought was pretty well-brought up – well, pretty, at any rate. I thought I heard that his name was Agathon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was Pausanias’ boy-toy. So this kid was there, and so were both the Adeimantuses, Cepis’ son and Leucolophides’, and some others.

Jowett's translation (1871)

When we entered, we found Protagoras taking a walk in the cloister; and next to him, on one side, were walking Callias, the son of Hipponicus, and Paralus, the son of Pericles, who, by the mother’s side, is his half-brother, and Charmides, the son of Glaucon. On the other side of him were Xanthippus, the other son of Pericles, Philippides, the son of Philomelus; also Antimoerus of Mende, who of all the disciples of Protagoras is the most famous, and intends to make sophistry his profession. A train of listeners followed him; the greater part of them appeared to be foreigners, whom Protagoras had brought with him out of the various cities visited by him in his journeys, he, like Orpheus, attracting them his voice, and they following. I should mention also that there were some Athenians in the company. Nothing delighted me more than the precision of their movements: they never got into his way at all; but when he and those who were with him turned back, then the band of listeners parted regularly on either side; he was always in front, and they wheeled round and took their places behind him in perfect order.

After him, as Homer says, “I lifted up my eyes and saw” Hippias the Elean sitting in the opposite cloister on a chair of state, and around him were seated on benches Eryximachus, the son of Acumenus, and Phaedrus the Myrrhinusian, and Andron the son of Androtion, and there were strangers whom he had brought with him from his native city of Elis, and some others: they were putting to Hippias certain physical and astronomical questions, and he, ex cathedra, was determining their several questions to them, and discoursing of them.

Also, “my eyes beheld Tantalus”; for Prodicus the Cean was at Athens: he had been lodged in a room which, in the days of Hipponicus, was a storehouse; but, as the house was full, Callias had cleared this out and made the room into a guest-chamber. Now Prodicus was still in bed, wrapped up in sheepskins and bed-clothes, of which there seemed to be a great heap; and there was sitting by him on the couches near, Pausanias of the deme of Cerameis, and with Pausanias was a youth quite young, who is certainly remarkable for his good looks, and, if I am not mistaken, is also of a fair and gentle nature. I thought that I heard him called Agathon, and my suspicion is that he is the beloved of Pausanias. There was this youth, and also there were the two Adeimantuses, one the son of Cepis, and the other of Leucolophides, and some others.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

εἰ δὲ μή, ὅρα, ὦ μακάριε, [314a] μὴ περὶ τοῖς φιλτάτοις κυβεύῃς τε καὶ κινδυνεύῃς. καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ πολὺ μείζων κίνδυνος ἐν τῇ τῶν μαθημάτων ὠνῇ ἢ ἐν τῇ τῶν σιτίων. σιτία μὲν γὰρ καὶ ποτὰ πριάμενον παρὰ τοῦ καπήλου καὶ ἐμπόρου ἔξεστιν ἐν ἄλλοις ἀγγείοις ἀποφέρειν, καὶ πρὶν δέξασθαι αὐτὰ εἰς τὸ σῶμα πιόντα ἢ φαγόντα, καταθέμενον οἴκαδε ἔξεστιν συμβουλεύσασθαι, παρακαλέσαντα τὸν ἐπαΐοντα, ὅτι τε ἐδεστέον ἢ ποτέον καὶ ὅτι μή, καὶ ὁπόσον καὶ ὁπότε· ὥστε ἐν τῇ ὠνῇ οὐ μέγας ὁ [314b] κίνδυνος. μαθήματα δὲ οὐκ ἔστιν ἐν ἄλλῳ ἀγγείῳ ἀπενεγκεῖν, ἀλλ’ ἀνάγκη καταθέντα τὴν τιμὴν τὸ μάθημα ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ψυχῇ λαβόντα καὶ μαθόντα ἀπιέναι ἢ βεβλαμμένον ἢ ὠφελημένον. ταῦτα οὖν σκοπώμεθα καὶ μετὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων ἡμῶν· ἡμεῖς γὰρ ἔτι νέοι ὥστε τοσοῦτον πρᾶγμα διελέσθαι. νῦν μέντοι, ὥσπερ ὡρμήσαμεν, ἴωμεν καὶ ἀκούσωμεν τοῦ ἀνδρός, ἔπειτα ἀκούσαντες καὶ ἄλλοις ἀνακοινωσώμεθα· καὶ γὰρ οὐ μόνος Πρωταγόρας αὐτόθι ἐστίν, [314c] ἀλλὰ καὶ Ἱππίας ὁ Ἠλεῖος—οἶμαι δὲ καὶ πρόδικον τὸν Κεῖον—καὶ ἄλλοι πολλοὶ καὶ σοφοί.
δόξαν ἡμῖν ταῦτα ἐπορευόμεθα· ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἐν τῷ προθύρῳ ἐγενόμεθα, ἐπιστάντες περί τινος λόγου διελεγόμεθα, ὃς ἡμῖν κατὰ τὴν ὁδὸν ἐνέπεσεν· ἵν’ οὖν μὴ ἀτελὴς γένοιτο, ἀλλὰ διαπερανάμενοι οὕτως ἐσίοιμεν, στάντες ἐν τῷ προθύρῳ διελεγόμεθα ἕως συνωμολογήσαμεν ἀλλήλοις. δοκεῖ οὖν μοι, ὁ θυρωρός, εὐνοῦχός τις, κατήκουεν ἡμῶν, κινδυνεύει δὲ [314d] διὰ τὸ πλῆθος τῶν σοφιστῶν ἄχθεσθαι τοῖς φοιτῶσιν εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν· ἐπειδὴ γοῦν ἐκρούσαμεν τὴν θύραν, ἀνοίξας καὶ ἰδὼν ἡμᾶς, “ἔα,” ἔφη, “σοφισταί τινες· οὐ σχολὴ αὐτῷ·” καὶ ἅμα ἀμφοῖν τοῖν χεροῖν τὴν θύραν πάνυ προθύμως ὡς οἷός τ’ ἦν ἐπήραξεν. καὶ ἡμεῖς πάλιν ἐκρούομεν, καὶ ὃς ἐγκεκλῃμένης τῆς θύρας ἀποκρινόμενος εἶπεν, “ὦ ἄνθρωποι,” ἔφη, “οὐκ ἀκηκόατε ὅτι οὐ σχολὴ αὐτῷ;” “ἀλλ’ ὠγαθέ,” ἔφην ἐγώ, “οὔτε παρὰ Καλλίαν ἥκομεν οὔτε σοφισταί ἐσμεν. ἀλλὰ θάρρει· [314e] Πρωταγόραν γάρ τοι δεόμενοι ἰδεῖν ἤλθομεν· εἰσάγγειλον οὖν.” μόγις οὖν ποτε ἡμῖν ἅνθρωπος ἀνέῳξεν τὴν θύραν.

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

“But if not - look, kid, just don’t gamble with such precious things on the line. What I mean is that there’s much more risk in buying lessons than in buying food, since you can store food and drink bought from a merchant or shopkeeper in a separate container. Before taking them into your body by eating or drinking, you can set them down at home, call in a professional, and take his advice on what you should eat or drink and what you shouldn’t, and how much, and when. So this isn’t too risky a purchase. But you can’t store lessons in a separate container – when you hand over the money, you have to take the lesson right into your soul and you go away with the knowledge either hurt or helped by it. Now, we should think this over with our elders, since we’re still too young to sort out something so important. For the moment, let’s go like we planned and hear the man. Afterward, we can consult others. After all, Protagoras is not the only one there. There’s Hippias from Elis, too, and I think even Prodicus from Ceos, and a lot of other smart people.”
With that settled, we headed there. When we got to the porch, we stood and kept chatting about some point that had come up on the way. Now, we wanted to first come to a conclusion and then go in, and not leave it unfinished. We stood talking on the porch until we reached agreement. I think the doorman, a eunuch, must have heard us – he was probably annoyed about visitors coming when the house was already full of sophists. At least, when we knocked on the door, and he opened it and saw us, he said, “Ugh – sophists! Master’s busy.” Right away, he slammed the door shut with both hands as hard as he could. When we knocked again, he said with the door still closed, “Didn’t you people hear that master’s busy?”
“But, sir,” I said, “we’re not here for Callias and we’re not sophists. So don’t worry – it’s Protagoras we hoped to see. Please say we’re here.”
In the end, the guy opened the door for us rather reluctantly.

Jowett's translation (1871)

But if not, then, O my friend, pause, and do not hazard your dearest interests at a game of chance. For there is far greater peril in buying knowledge than in buying meat and drink: the one you purchase of the wholesale or retail dealer, and carry them away in other vessels, and before you receive them into the body as food, you may deposit them at home and call in any experienced friend who knows what is good to be eaten or drunken, and what not, and how much, and when; and then the danger of purchasing them is not so great. But you cannot buy the wares of knowledge and carry them away in another vessel; when you have paid for them you must receive them into the soul and go your way, either greatly harmed or greatly benefited; and therefore we should deliberate and take counsel with our elders; for we are still young-too young to determine such a matter. And now let us go, as we were intending, and hear Protagoras; and when we have heard what he has to say, we may take counsel of others; for not only is Protagoras at the house of Callias, but there is Hippias of Elis, and, if I am not mistaken, Prodicus of Ceos, and several other wise men.
To this we agreed, and proceeded on our way until we reached the vestibule of the house; and there we stopped in order to conclude a discussion which had arisen between us as we were going along; and we stood talking in the vestibule until we had finished and come to an understanding. And I think that the doorkeeper, who was a eunuch, and who was probably annoyed at the great inroad of the Sophists, must have heard us talking. At any rate, when we knocked at the door, and he opened and saw us, he grumbled: They are Sophists -he is not at home; and instantly gave the door a hearty bang with both his hands. Again we knocked, and he answered without opening: Did you not hear me say that he is not at home, fellows? But, my friend, I said, you need not be alarmed; for we are not Sophists, and we are not come to see Callias, but we want to see Protagoras; and I must request you to announce us. At last, after a good deal of difficulty, the man was persuaded to open the door.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

[313a] καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον μετὰ τοῦτο· τί οὖν; οἶσθα εἰς οἷόν τινα κίνδυνον ἔρχῃ ὑποθήσων τὴν ψυχήν; ἢ εἰ μὲν τὸ σῶμα ἐπιτρέπειν σε ἔδει τῳ διακινδυνεύοντα ἢ χρηστὸν αὐτὸ γενέσθαι ἢ πονηρόν, πολλὰ ἂν περιεσκέψω εἴτ’ ἐπιτρεπτέον εἴτε οὔ, καὶ εἰς συμβουλὴν τούς τε φίλους ἂν παρεκάλεις καὶ τοὺς οἰκείους σκοπούμενος ἡμέρας συχνάς· ὃ δὲ περὶ πλείονος τοῦ σώματος ἡγῇ, τὴν ψυχήν, καὶ ἐν ᾧ πάντ’ ἐστὶν τὰ σὰ ἢ εὖ ἢ κακῶς πράττειν, χρηστοῦ ἢ πονηροῦ αὐτοῦ γενομένου, περὶ δὲ τούτου οὔτε τῷ πατρὶ οὔτε τῷ ἀδελφῷ [313b] ἐπεκοινώσω οὔτε ἡμῶν τῶν ἑταίρων οὐδενί, εἴτ’ ἐπιτρεπτέον εἴτε καὶ οὐ τῷ ἀφικομένῳ τούτῳ ξένῳ τὴν σὴν ψυχήν, ἀλλ’ ἑσπέρας ἀκούσας, ὡς φῄς, ὄρθριος ἥκων περὶ μὲν τούτου οὐδένα λόγον οὐδὲ συμβουλὴν ποιῇ, εἴτε χρὴ ἐπιτρέπειν σαυτὸν αὐτῷ εἴτε μή, ἕτοιμος δ’ εἶ ἀναλίσκειν τά τε σαυτοῦ καὶ τὰ τῶν φίλων χρήματα, ὡς ἤδη διεγνωκὼς ὅτι πάντως συνεστέον Πρωταγόρᾳ, ὃν οὔτε γιγνώσκεις, ὡς φῄς, οὔτε [313c] διείλεξαι οὐδεπώποτε, σοφιστὴν δ’ ὀνομάζεις, τὸν δὲ σοφιστὴν ὅτι ποτ’ ἔστιν φαίνῃ ἀγνοῶν, ᾧ μέλλεις σαυτὸν ἐπιτρέπειν;
καὶ ὃς ἀκούσας, ἔοικεν, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἐξ ὧν σὺ λέγεις.
ἆρ’ οὖν, ὦ Ἱππόκρατες, ὁ σοφιστὴς τυγχάνει ὢν ἔμπορός τις ἢ κάπηλος τῶν ἀγωγίμων, ἀφ’ ὧν ψυχὴ τρέφεται; φαίνεται γὰρ ἔμοιγε τοιοῦτός τις.
τρέφεται δέ, ὦ Σώκρατες, ψυχὴ τίνι;
μαθήμασιν δήπου, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ. καὶ ὅπως γε μή, ὦ ἑταῖρε, ὁ σοφιστὴς ἐπαινῶν ἃ πωλεῖ ἐξαπατήσῃ ἡμᾶς, ὥσπερ οἱ περὶ τὴν τοῦ σώματος τροφήν, ὁ [313d] ἔμπορός τε καὶ κάπηλος. καὶ γὰρ οὗτοί που ὧν ἄγουσιν ἀγωγίμων οὔτε αὐτοὶ ἴσασιν ὅτι χρηστὸν ἢ πονηρὸν περὶ τὸ σῶμα, ἐπαινοῦσιν δὲ πάντα πωλοῦντες, οὔτε οἱ ὠνούμενοι παρ’ αὐτῶν, ἐὰν μή τις τύχῃ γυμναστικὸς ἢ ἰατρὸς ὤν. οὕτω δὲ καὶ οἱ τὰ μαθήματα περιάγοντες κατὰ τὰς πόλεις καὶ πωλοῦντες καὶ καπηλεύοντες τῷ ἀεὶ ἐπιθυμοῦντι ἐπαινοῦσιν μὲν πάντα ἃ πωλοῦσιν, τάχα δ’ ἄν τινες, ὦ ἄριστε, καὶ τούτων ἀγνοοῖεν ὧν πωλοῦσιν ὅτι χρηστὸν ἢ πονηρὸν [313e] πρὸς τὴν ψυχήν· ὡς δ’ αὕτως καὶ οἱ ὠνούμενοι παρ’ αὐτῶν, ἐὰν μή τις τύχῃ περὶ τὴν ψυχὴν αὖ ἰατρικὸς ὤν. εἰ μὲν οὖν σὺ τυγχάνεις ἐπιστήμων τούτων τί χρηστὸν καὶ πονηρόν, ἀσφαλές σοι ὠνεῖσθαι μαθήματα καὶ παρὰ Πρωταγόρου καὶ παρ’ ἄλλου ὁτουοῦν·

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

Here I said, “What? Do you know the sort of risk you’re running by gambling your soul? Look, if you had to hand over your body to someone and run the risk for better or worse, you’d look long and hard into whether you should do it or not. You’d call your friends and family together for advice for days on end to figure it out. But as for what you rate higher than your body – your soul – on which your success or failure entirely depends, as it turns to better or worse – about this, do you bother to consult your father or your brother or a single one of your friends about whether you should hand over your soul or not to this stranger who just turned up? No, as you say, you only found out last night and you’ve come this morning, without hearing argument or advice about it, ready to spend your own money and your friends’ money, since you’ve already figured out that you absolutely have to spend time with Protagoras, whom you don’t know and haven’t ever spoken to, as you admit. And you call the person you’re about to hand over your soul to a sophist, but you clearly don’t know what that is.”
When he heard this, he replied, “Well, it seems to be as you say, Socrates.”
“So, Hippocrates, maybe the sophist is a kind of shopkeeper or a retailer of stuff which keeps the soul fed? Because that’s the kind of person he seems to me.”
“But what does the soul feed on, Socrates?”
“On lessons, I suppose. But watch out, so the sophist won’t deceive us when he praises what he sells, just like a shopkeeper or a peddler who sells food for the body might. In fact, these people don’t even know themselves which of their products is better or worse for the body, but they praise everything they sell. And their customers don’t know either, unless they happen to be a fitness or medical expert. The same goes for those who go city to city, selling and hawking their lessons to anyone who’s interested. While they praise everything they sell, my friend, some of them probably don’t know whether their stuff is good or bad for the soul. Their customers are also ignorant unless, again, they happen to be doctors for the soul. So, if you somehow know which of their lessons is good or bad for you, it’s safe for you to buy from Protagoras or anyone else.

Jowett's translation (1871)

Then I proceeded to say: Well, but are you aware of the danger which you are incurring? If you were going to commit your body to some one, who might do good or harm to it, would you not carefully consider and ask the opinion of your friends and kindred, and deliberate many days as to whether you should give him the care of your body? But when the soul is in question, which you hold to be of far more value than the body, and upon the good or evil of which depends the well-being of your all,-about this never consulted either with your father or with your brother or with any one of us who are your companions. But no sooner does this foreigner appear, than you instantly commit your soul to his keeping. In the evening, as you say, you hear of him, and in the morning you go to him, never deliberating or taking the opinion of any one as to whether you ought to intrust yourself to him or not;-you have quite made up your mind that you will at all hazards be a pupil of Protagoras, and are prepared to expend all the property of yourself and of your friends in carrying out at any price this determination, although, as you admit, you do not know him, and have never spoken with him: and you call him a Sophist, but are manifestly ignorant of what a Sophist is; and yet you are going to commit yourself to his keeping.
When he heard me say this, he replied: No other inference, Socrates, can be drawn from your words.
I proceeded: Is not a Sophist, Hippocrates, one who deals wholesale or retail in the food of the soul? To me that appears to be his nature.
And what, Socrates, is the food of the soul?
Surely, I said, knowledge is the food of the soul; and we must take care, my friend, that the Sophist does not deceive us when he praises what he sells, like the dealers wholesale or retail who sell the food of the body; for they praise indiscriminately all their goods, without knowing what are really beneficial or hurtful: neither do their customers know, with the exception of any trainer or physician who may happen to buy of them. In like manner those who carry about the wares of knowledge, and make the round of the cities, and sell or retail them to any customer who is in want of them, praise them all alike; though I should not wonder, O my friend, if many of them were really ignorant of their effect upon the soul; and their customers equally ignorant, unless he who buys of them happens to be a physician of the soul. If, therefore, you have understanding of what is good and evil, you may safely buy knowledge of Protagoras or of any one.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

εἰ οὖν καὶ τοῦτό τίς σε προσέροιτο· [312a] “αὐτὸς δὲ δὴ ὡς τίς γενησόμενος ἔρχῃ παρὰ τὸν Πρωταγόραν;”
καὶ ὃς εἶπεν ἐρυθριάσας—ἤδη γὰρ ὑπέφαινέν τι ἡμέρας, ὥστε καταφανῆ αὐτὸν γενέσθαι— εἰ μέν τι τοῖς ἔμπροσθεν ἔοικεν, δῆλον ὅτι σοφιστὴς γενησόμενος.
σὺ δέ, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, πρὸς θεῶν, οὐκ ἂν αἰσχύνοιο εἰς τοὺς Ἕλληνας σαυτὸν σοφιστὴν παρέχων;
νὴ τὸν Δία, ὦ Σώκρατες, εἴπερ γε ἃ διανοοῦμαι χρὴ λέγειν.
ἀλλ’ ἄρα, ὦ Ἱππόκρατες, μὴ οὐ τοιαύτην ὑπολαμβάνεις σου τὴν παρὰ Πρωταγόρου μάθησιν [312b] ἔσεσθαι, ἀλλ’ οἵαπερ ἡ παρὰ τοῦ γραμματιστοῦ ἐγένετο καὶ κιθαριστοῦ καὶ παιδοτρίβου; τούτων γὰρ σὺ ἑκάστην οὐκ ἐπὶ τέχνῃ ἔμαθες, ὡς δημιουργὸς ἐσόμενος, ἀλλ’ ἐπὶ παιδείᾳ, ὡς τὸν ἰδιώτην καὶ τὸν ἐλεύθερον πρέπει.
πάνυ μὲν οὖν μοι δοκεῖ, ἔφη, τοιαύτη μᾶλλον εἶναι ἡ παρὰ Πρωταγόρου μάθησις.
οἶσθα οὖν ὃ μέλλεις νῦν πράττειν, ἤ σε λανθάνει; ἦν δ’ ἐγώ.
τοῦ πέρι;
ὅτι μέλλεις τὴν ψυχὴν τὴν σαυτοῦ παρασχεῖν [312c] θεραπεῦσαι ἀνδρί, ὡς φῄς, σοφιστῇ· ὅτι δέ ποτε ὁ σοφιστής ἐστιν, θαυμάζοιμ’ ἂν εἰ οἶσθα. καίτοι εἰ τοῦτ’ ἀγνοεῖς, οὐδὲ ὅτῳ παραδίδως τὴν ψυχὴν οἶσθα, οὔτ’ εἰ ἀγαθῷ οὔτ’ εἰ κακῷ πράγματι.
οἶμαί γ’, ἔφη, εἰδέναι.
λέγε δή, τί ἡγῇ εἶναι τὸν σοφιστήν;
ἐγὼ μέν, ἦ δ’ ὅς, ὥσπερ τοὔνομα λέγει, τοῦτον εἶναι τὸν τῶν σοφῶν ἐπιστήμονα.
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, τοῦτο μὲν ἔξεστι λέγειν καὶ περὶ ζωγράφων καὶ περὶ τεκτόνων, ὅτι οὗτοί εἰσιν οἱ τῶν σοφῶν ἐπιστήμονες· ἀλλ’ [312d] εἴ τις ἔροιτο ἡμᾶς, “τῶν τί σοφῶν εἰσιν οἱ ζωγράφοι ἐπιστήμονες,” εἴποιμεν ἄν που αὐτῷ ὅτι τῶν πρὸς τὴν ἀπεργασίαν τὴν τῶν εἰκόνων, καὶ τἆλλα οὕτως. εἰ δέ τις ἐκεῖνο ἔροιτο, “ὁ δὲ σοφιστὴς τῶν τί σοφῶν ἐστιν;” τί ἂν ἀποκρινοίμεθα αὐτῷ; ποίας ἐργασίας ἐπιστάτης;
τί ἂν εἴποιμεν αὐτὸν εἶναι, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἢ ἐπιστάτην τοῦ ποιῆσαι δεινὸν λέγειν;
ἴσως ἄν, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, ἀληθῆ λέγοιμεν, οὐ μέντοι ἱκανῶς γε· ἐρωτήσεως γὰρ ἔτι ἡ ἀπόκρισις ἡμῖν δεῖται, περὶ ὅτου ὁ σοφιστὴς δεινὸν ποιεῖ λέγειν· ὥσπερ ὁ κιθαριστὴς [312e] δεινὸν δήπου ποιεῖ λέγειν περὶ οὗπερ καὶ ἐπιστήμονα, περὶ κιθαρίσεως· ἦ γάρ;
ναί.
εἶεν· ὁ δὲ δὴ σοφιστὴς περὶ τίνος δεινὸν ποιεῖ λέγειν;
δῆλον ὅτι περὶ οὗπερ καὶ ἐπίστασθαι;
εἰκός γε. τί δή ἐστιν τοῦτο περὶ οὗ αὐτός τε ἐπιστήμων ἐστὶν ὁ σοφιστὴς καὶ τὸν μαθητὴν ποιεῖ;
μὰ Δί’, ἔφη, οὐκέτι ἔχω σοι λέγειν

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

“And what if someone went on to ask, ‘Well, what sort of person do you think you’ll become if you go to Protagoras?’”
Hippocrates blushed (by that point there was enough daylight that I could see him) and said, “If it’s like the previous cases, it’s clear that I would be planning to become a sophist.”
“And wouldn’t you be ashamed, for heavens’ sake, to present yourself to the Greeks as a sophist?”
“By god, Socrates, yes I would – if I should say what I think, anyway.”
“But maybe you don’t actually think that the kind of education you’ll get from Protagoras is any different from the kind you got from your writing tutor or music teacher or gymnastics coach? You didn’t learn any of these things to go into a trade, but just for your education, since you’re a private citizen and a free man.”
“Oh, yes, that‘s definitely how I think studying with Protagoras is.”
“So, do you realize what you’re about to do or have you not noticed?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re about to hand over care of your soul to a man who is, as you say, a sophist. But I’d be surprised if you even knew what a sophist was. And if you don’t know this much, then you can’t know whether you're handing your soul over to something good or bad.”
“I think I know.”
“Tell me, then, what you think a sophist is.”
“Well, I’d say anyway that a sophist is, as the name implies, someone who knows about sophisticated stuff.”
“But then, couldn’t you also say that painters and builders know about sophisticated stuff? If someone asked us, ‘What kind of sophisticated stuff do painters know about?’ I suppose I’d tell him that they know how to produce paintings. The same for the others. But if someone asked, ‘What kind of sophisticated stuff do sophists know about?’ what would we answer? What sort of job are they in charge of?”
“We’d have to answer that a sophist is in charge of making people clever at speaking, wouldn’t we?”
“Maybe that’s right, but it isn’t enough by itself. Our answer to the question has to say what the sophist makes someone clever at speaking about. For example, the music teacher makes you clever, I guess, at speaking about the same thing you then know about: music. Right?”
“Yes.”
“All right. And the sophist, what does he make you clever at speaking about?”
“It’s clear that it would be the same thing he makes you know about.”
“That’s reasonable. But then what is it that the sophist himself knows about and makes his student know about?”
“I swear, I don’t know what to tell you this time.”

Jowett's translation (1871)

But suppose a person were to ask this further question: And how about yourself? What will Protagoras make of you, if you go to see him?
He answered, with a blush upon his face (for the day was just beginning to dawn, so that I could see him): Unless this differs in some way from the former instances, I suppose that he will make a Sophist of me.
By the gods, I said, and are you not ashamed at having to appear before the Hellenes in the character of a Sophist?
Indeed, Socrates, to confess the truth, I am.
But you should not assume, Hippocrates, that the instruction of Protagoras is of this nature: may you not learn of him in the same way that you learned the arts of the grammarian, musician, or trainer, not with the view of making any of them a profession, but only as a part of education, and because a private gentleman and freeman ought to know them?
Just so, he said; and that, in my opinion, is a far truer account of the teaching of Protagoras.
I said: I wonder whether you know what you are doing?
And what am I doing?
You are going to commit your soul to the care of a man whom you call a Sophist. And yet I hardly think that you know what a Sophist is; and if not, then you do not even know to whom you are committing your soul and whether the thing to which you commit yourself be good or evil.
I certainly think that I do know, he replied.
Then tell me, what do you imagine that he is?
I take him to be one who knows wise things, he replied, as his name implies.
And might you not, I said, affirm this of the painter and of the carpenter also: Do not they, too, know wise things? But suppose a person were to ask us: In what are the painters wise? We should answer: In what relates to the making of likenesses, and similarly of other things. And if he were further to ask: What is the wisdom of the Sophist, and what is the manufacture over which he presides?-how should we answer him?
How should we answer him, Socrates? What other answer could there be but that he presides over the art which makes men eloquent?
Yes, I replied, that is very likely true, but not enough; for in the answer a further question is involved: Of what does the Sophist make a man talk eloquently? The player on the lyre may be supposed to make a man talk eloquently about that which he makes him understand, that is about playing the lyre. Is not that true?
Yes.
Then about what does the Sophist make him eloquent? Must not he make him eloquent in that which he understands?
Yes, that may be assumed.
And what is that which the Sophist knows and makes his disciple know?
Indeed, he said, I cannot tell.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

[311a] ἀλλὰ τί οὐ βαδίζομεν παρ’ αὐτόν, ἵνα ἔνδον καταλάβωμεν; καταλύει δ’, ὡς ἐγὼ ἤκουσα, παρὰ Καλλίᾳ τῷ Ἱππονίκου· ἀλλ’ ἴωμεν.” καὶ ἐγὼ εἶπον· “μήπω, ἀγαθέ, ἐκεῖσε ἴωμεν—πρῲ γάρ ἐστιν—ἀλλὰ δεῦρο ἐξαναστῶμεν εἰς τὴν αὐλήν, καὶ περιιόντες αὐτοῦ διατρίψωμεν ἕως ἂν φῶς γένηται· εἶτα ἴωμεν. καὶ γὰρ τὰ πολλὰ Πρωταγόρας ἔνδον διατρίβει, ὥστε, θάρρει, καταληψόμεθα αὐτόν, ὡς τὸ εἰκός, ἔνδον.”
μετὰ ταῦτα ἀναστάντες εἰς τὴν αὐλὴν περιῇμεν· καὶ ἐγὼ [311b] ἀποπειρώμενος τοῦ Ἱπποκράτους τῆς ῥώμης διεσκόπουν αὐτὸν καὶ ἠρώτων, εἰπέ μοι, ἔφην ἐγώ, ὦ Ἱππόκρατες, παρὰ Πρωταγόραν νῦν ἐπιχειρεῖς ἰέναι, ἀργύριον τελῶν ἐκείνῳ μισθὸν ὑπὲρ σεαυτοῦ, ὡς παρὰ τίνα ἀφιξόμενος καὶ τίς γενησόμενος; ὥσπερ ἂν εἰ ἐπενόεις παρὰ τὸν σαυτοῦ ὁμώνυμον ἐλθὼν Ἱπποκράτη τὸν Κῷον, τὸν τῶν Ἀσκληπιαδῶν, ἀργύριον τελεῖν ὑπὲρ σαυτοῦ μισθὸν ἐκείνῳ, εἴ τίς σε ἤρετο· “εἰπέ μοι, μέλλεις τελεῖν, ὦ Ἱππόκρατες, Ἱπποκράτει [311c] μισθὸν ὡς τίνι ὄντι;” τί ἂν ἀπεκρίνω;
εἶπον ἄν, ἔφη, ὅτι ὡς ἰατρῷ.
“ὡς τίς γενησόμενος;”
ὡς ἰατρός, ἔφη.
εἰ δὲ παρὰ Πολύκλειτον τὸν Ἀργεῖον ἢ Φειδίαν τὸν Ἀθηναῖον ἐπενόεις ἀφικόμενος μισθὸν ὑπὲρ σαυτοῦ τελεῖν ἐκείνοις, εἴ τίς σε ἤρετο· “τελεῖν τοῦτο τὸ ἀργύριον ὡς τίνι ὄντι ἐν νῷ ἔχεις Πολυκλείτῳ τε καὶ Φειδίᾳ;” τί ἂν ἀπεκρίνω;
εἶπον ἂν ὡς ἀγαλματοποιοῖς.
“ὡς τίς δὲ γενησόμενος αὐτός;”
δῆλον ὅτι ἀγαλματοποιός.
εἶεν, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ· [311d] παρὰ δὲ δὴ Πρωταγόραν νῦν ἀφικόμενοι ἐγώ τε καὶ σὺ ἀργύριον ἐκείνῳ μισθὸν ἕτοιμοι ἐσόμεθα τελεῖν ὑπὲρ σοῦ, ἂν μὲν ἐξικνῆται τὰ ἡμέτερα χρήματα καὶ τούτοις πείθωμεν αὐτόν, εἰ δὲ μή, καὶ τὰ τῶν φίλων προσαναλίσκοντες. εἰ οὖν τις ἡμᾶς περὶ ταῦτα οὕτω σφόδρα σπουδάζοντας ἔροιτο· “εἰπέ μοι, ὦ Σώκρατές τε καὶ Ἱππόκρατες, ὡς τίνι ὄντι τῷ Πρωταγόρᾳ ἐν νῷ ἔχετε χρήματα τελεῖν;” τί ἂν αὐτῷ [311e] ἀποκριναίμεθα; τί ὄνομα ἄλλο γε λεγόμενον περὶ Πρωταγόρου ἀκούομεν; ὥσπερ περὶ Φειδίου ἀγαλματοποιὸν καὶ περὶ Ὁμήρου ποιητήν, τί τοιοῦτον περὶ Πρωταγόρου ἀκούομεν;
σοφιστὴν δή τοι ὀνομάζουσί γε, ὦ Σώκρατες, τὸν ἄνδρα εἶναι, ἔφη.
ὡς σοφιστῇ ἄρα ἐρχόμεθα τελοῦντες τὰ χρήματα;
μάλιστα.

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

“…So why don’t we walk to where he is and find him inside? He’s staying, I've heard, with Callias the son of Hipponicus. Let’s go.”
I said, “Let’s not go there yet; it’s early. No, let’s get up and head to the courtyard instead. We can pass the time with a stroll until it’s light and then go. Besides, Protagoras spends a lot of time inside, so don’t worry – most likely, we’ll find him there.”
So we got up and walked round the courtyard. I wanted to test Hippocrates’ resolve, so I set to examining him and asked, “Tell me something, Hippocrates.
You’re all set to go to Protagoras and pay cash for his services. What sort of person do you think you’re going to and what sort of person do you think you’ll become if you do? Let’s say you were planning to go to your namesake Hippocrates of Cos, a devotee of Asclepius, and to pay him cash for his services. If someone asked you,
‘Tell me, Hippocrates, what sort of person do you think Hippocrates is that you’re going to pay him?’ What would you have answered?”
“I’d say that I thought he was a doctor.”
“‘What sort of person do you think you’d become?’”
“A doctor.”
“And if you planned on going to Polycleitus of Argos or Phidias of Athens and paying for their services, if someone then asked you, ‘What sort of people do you think Polycleitus and Phidias are that you’re going to pay them?’ What would you have answered?”
“I’d have said, ‘Sculptors.’”
“‘And what sort of person do you think you’ll become?’”
“Clearly, a sculptor.”
“Right. Now when we go, you and I, to Protagoras now, ready to pay him cash for his services, we’ll persuade him if we have enough money ourselves, and if not, we’ll spend up what our friends have. So if someone saw how eager we are about all this and asked us, ‘Tell me, Socrates and Hippocrates, what sort of person do you have Protagoras down as, that you plan to spend your money on him?’ What would we answer? What other word do we hear Protagoras called? Like ‘sculptor’ for Pheidias or ‘poet’ for Homer, what word of this kind do we hear for Protagoras?”
“Sophist – they call the man a sophist, Socrates.”
“So we’re going to spend our money on him because he’s a sophist.”
“That’s right.”

Jowett's translation (1871)

There is no reason why we should not go to him at once, and then we shall find him at home. He lodges, as I hear, with Callias the son of Hipponicus: let us start.
I replied: Not yet, my good friend; the hour is too early. But let us rise and take a turn in the court and wait about there until daybreak; when the day breaks, then we will go. For Protagoras is generally at home, and we shall be sure to find him; never fear.
Upon this we got up and walked about in the court, and I thought that I would make trial of the strength of his resolution. So I examined him and put questions to him. Tell me, Hippocrates, I said, as you are going to Protagoras, and will be paying your money to him, what is he to whom you are going? and what will he make of you? If, for example, you had thought of going to Hippocrates of Cos, the Asclepiad, and were about to give him your money, and some one had said to you: You are paying money to your namesake Hippocrates, O Hippocrates; tell me, what is he that you give him money? how would you have answered?
I should say, he replied, that I gave money to him as a physician.
And what will he make of you?
A physician, he said.
And if you were resolved to go to Polycleitus the Argive, or Pheidias the Athenian, and were intending to give them money, and some one had asked you: What are Polycleitus and Pheidias? and why do you give them this money?-how would you have answered?
I should have answered, that they were statuaries.
And what will they make of you?
A statuary, of course.
Well now, I said, you and I are going to Protagoras, and we are ready to pay him money on your behalf. If our own means are sufficient, and we can gain him with these, we shall be only too glad; but if not, then we are to spend the money of your friends as well. Now suppose, that while we are thus enthusiastically pursuing our object some one were to say to us: Tell me, Socrates, and you Hippocrates, what is Protagoras, and why are you going to pay him money,-how should we answer? I know that Pheidias is a sculptor, and that Homer is a poet; but what appellation is given to Protagoras? how is he designated?
They call him a Sophist, Socrates, he replied.
Then we are going to pay our money to him in the character of a Sophist?
Certainly.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

[310a] ΣΩ: πάνυ γε, πολλὰ καὶ εἰπὼν καὶ ἀκούσας.
ΕΤ: τί οὖν οὐ διηγήσω ἡμῖν τὴν συνουσίαν, εἰ μή σέ τι κωλύει, καθεζόμενος ἐνταυθί, ἐξαναστήσας τὸν παῖδα τουτονί;
ΣΩ: πάνυ μὲν οὖν: καὶ χάριν γε εἴσομαι, ἐὰν ἀκούητε.
ΕΤ: καὶ μὴν καὶ ἡμεῖς σοί, ἐὰν λέγῃς.
ΣΩ: διπλῆ ἂν εἴη ἡ χάρις. ἀλλ᾽ οὖν ἀκούετε.

τῆς γὰρ παρελθούσης νυκτὸς ταυτησί, ἔτι βαθέος ὄρθρου, Ἱπποκράτης, ὁ Ἀπολλοδώρου ὑὸς Φάσωνος δὲ ἀδελφός, τὴν [310b] θύραν τῇ βακτηρίᾳ πάνυ σφόδρα ἔκρουε, καὶ ἐπειδὴ αὐτῷ ἀνέῳξέ τις, εὐθὺς εἴσω ᾔει ἐπειγόμενος, καὶ τῇ φωνῇ μέγα λέγων, “ὦ Σώκρατες,” ἔφη, “ἐγρήγορας ἢ καθεύδεις;” καὶ ἐγὼ τὴν φωνὴν γνοὺς αὐτοῦ, “Ἱπποκράτης,” ἔφην, “οὗτος: μή τι νεώτερον ἀγγέλλεις;” “οὐδέν γ᾽,” ἦ δ᾽ ὅς, “εἰ μὴ ἀγαθά γε.” “εὖ ἂν λέγοις,” ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ: “ἔστι δὲ τί, καὶ τοῦ ἕνεκα τηνικάδε ἀφίκου;” “Πρωταγόρας,” ἔφη, “ἥκει,” στὰς παρ᾽ ἐμοί. “πρῴην,” ἔφην ἐγώ: “σὺ δὲ ἄρτι πέπυσαι;” “νὴ τοὺς θεούς,” ἔφη, “ἑσπέρας γε.” [310c] καὶ ἅμα ἐπιψηλαφήσας τοῦ σκίμποδος ἐκαθέζετο παρὰ τοὺς πόδας μου, καὶ εἶπεν: “ἑσπέρας δῆτα, μάλα γε ὀψὲ ἀφικόμενος ἐξ Οἰνόης. ὁ γάρ τοι παῖς με ὁ Σάτυρος ἀπέδρα: καὶ δῆτα μέλλων σοι φράζειν ὅτι διωξοίμην αὐτόν, ὑπό τινος ἄλλου ἐπελαθόμην. ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἦλθον καὶ δεδειπνηκότες ἦμεν καὶ ἐμέλλομεν ἀναπαύεσθαι, τότε μοι ἁδελφὸς λέγει ὅτι ἥκει Πρωταγόρας. καὶ ἔτι μὲν ἐνεχείρησα εὐθὺς παρὰ σὲ ἰέναι, ἔπειτά μοι λίαν πόρρω ἔδοξε τῶν νυκτῶν εἶναι: ἐπειδὴ [310d] δὲ τάχιστά με ἐκ τοῦ κόπου ὁ ὕπνος ἀνῆκεν, εὐθὺς ἀναστὰς οὕτω δεῦρο ἐπορευόμην.” καὶ ἐγὼ γιγνώσκων αὐτοῦ τὴν ἀνδρείαν καὶ τὴν πτοίησιν, “τί οὖν σοι,” ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, “τοῦτο; μῶν τί σε ἀδικεῖ Πρωταγόρας;” καὶ ὃς γελάσας, “νὴ τοὺς θεούς,” ἔφη, “ὦ Σώκρατες, ὅτι γε μόνος ἐστὶ σοφός, ἐμὲ δὲ οὐ ποιεῖ.” “ἀλλὰ ναὶ μὰ Δία,” ἔφην ἐγώ, “ἂν αὐτῷ διδῷς ἀργύριον καὶ πείθῃς ἐκεῖνον, ποιήσει καὶ σὲ σοφόν.” “εἰ γάρ,” ἦ δ᾽ ὅς, “ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ θεοί, ἐν [310e] τούτῳ εἴη: ὡς οὔτ᾽ ἂν τῶν ἐμῶν ἐπιλίποιμι οὐδὲν οὔτε τῶν φίλων: ἀλλ᾽ αὐτὰ ταῦτα καὶ νῦν ἥκω παρὰ σέ, ἵνα ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ διαλεχθῇς αὐτῷ. ἐγὼ γὰρ ἅμα μὲν καὶ νεώτερός εἰμι, ἅμα δὲ οὐδὲ ἑώρακα Πρωταγόραν πώποτε οὐδ᾽ ἀκήκοα οὐδέν: ἔτι γὰρ παῖς ἦ ὅτε τὸ πρότερον ἐπεδήμησε. ἀλλὰ γάρ, ὦ Σώκρατες, πάντες τὸν ἄνδρα ἐπαινοῦσιν καί φασιν σοφώτατον εἶναι λέγειν:

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

Soc: Yes, and I talked and listened quite a lot.
Com: So why don’t you tell us about the conversation, if nothing’s stopping you? Let this boy¹ get up, and you sit right here.
Soc: Sure, and you’ll do me a favor by listening.
Com: You’ll do us a favor by talking.
Soc: Call it a two-way favor, then. Here’s what happened.

Late last night, when it was still dark, Hippocrates, the one who’s Apollodorus’ son and Phason’s brother, rapped on my door very loudly with his cane. When someone opened it for him, he rushed straight inside and boomed, “Socrates, are you awake or asleep?”
And since I recognized his voice, I said, “Hippocrates! Don't tell me the news is bad.”
“Nothing but good news,” he said.
“You should tell me. What is it? Why have you shown up so late?”
“Protagoras,” he said, standing beside me, “is here.”
“He came the day before yesterday. Did you only just find out?”
“I swear, only last night.”
And then he groped about in the dark for the bed, sat down by my feet and said, “So last night it was, I was coming back pretty late from Oenoe. My boy¹ Satyrus, you see, had run away from me – I meant to tell you that I was after him, but forgot for some reason – Anyway, when I got back and we had dinner and were about to turn in, that’s when my brother told me that Protagoras is here. I was set to come straight to you, but I thought it was too late at night. As soon as I’d had enough sleep to not be so tired, I got up straightaway and came over here.”
Seeing how fierce and excited he was, I said, “What’s it to you? Protagoras can't have done you wrong, can he?”
He laughed and said, “For god’s sake, Socrates, only because he’s wise and doesn’t make me wise too.”
“But I swear, if you pay him and talk him round, he will.”
“Oh god, if it was only about that, I wouldn’t spare any of my money or my friends’. But I came to you now so you’ll talk all this over with him for me. I’m too young, and I’ve never even seen or heard Protagoras. I was just a little boy last time he was in town. Come on, Socrates. Everyone speaks highly of this man and says he’s a very talented speaker…”

¹The term ‘boy’ is here used of slaves without regard to their age, as in the antebellum South.

Jowett's translation (1871)

Soc. Yes; and I have heard and said many things.
Com. Then, if you have no engagement, suppose that you sit down tell me what passed, and my attendant here shall give up his place to you.
Soc. To be sure; and I shall be grateful to you for listening.
Com. Thank you, too, for telling us.
Soc. That is thank you twice over. Listen then:-
Last night, or rather very early this morning, Hippocrates, the son of Apollodorus and the brother of Phason, gave a tremendous thump with his staff at my door; some one opened to him, and he came rushing in and bawled out: Socrates, are you awake or asleep?
I knew his voice, and said: Hippocrates, is that you? and do you bring any news?
Good news, he said; nothing but good.
Delightful, I said; but what is the news? and why have you come hither at this unearthly hour?
He drew nearer to me and said: Protagoras is come.
Yes, I replied; he came two days ago: have you only just heard of his arrival?
Yes, by the gods, he said; but not until yesterday evening.
At the same time he felt for the truckle-bed, and sat down at my feet, and then he said: Yesterday quite late in the evening, on my return from Oenoe whither I had gone in pursuit of my runaway slave Satyrus, as I meant to have told you, if some other matter had not come in the way;-on my return, when we had done supper and were about to retire to rest, my brother said to me: Protagoras is come. I was going to you at once, and then I thought that the night was far spent. But the moment sleep left me after my fatigue, I got up and came hither direct.
I, who knew the very courageous madness of the man, said: What is the matter? Has Protagoras robbed you of anything?
He replied, laughing: Yes, indeed he has, Socrates, of the wisdom which he keeps from me.
But, surely, I said, if you give him money, and make friends with him, he will make you as wise as he is himself.
Would to heaven, he replied, that this were the case! He might take all that I have, and all that my friends have, if he pleased. But that is why I have come to you now, in order that you may speak to him on my behalf; for I am young, and also I have never seen nor heard him; (when he visited Athens before I was but a child) and all men praise him, Socrates; he is reputed to be the most accomplished of speakers.

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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Greek text

[309a] Ἑταῖρος:
πόθεν, ὦ Σώκρατες, φαίνῃ; ἢ δῆλα δὴ ὅτι ἀπὸ κυνηγεσίου τοῦ περὶ τὴν Ἀλκιβιάδου ὥραν; καὶ μήν μοι καὶ πρῴην ἰδόντι καλὸς μὲν ἐφαίνετο ἀνὴρ ἔτι, ἀνὴρ μέντοι, ὦ Σώκρατες, ὥς γ᾽ ἐν αὐτοῖς ἡμῖν εἰρῆσθαι, καὶ πώγωνος ἤδη ὑποπιμπλάμενος.
Σωκράτης:
εἶτα τί τοῦτο; οὐ σὺ μέντοι Ὁμήρου ἐπαινέτης εἶ, [309b] ὃς ἔφη χαριεστάτην ἥβην εἶναι τοῦ <πρῶτον> ὑπηνήτου, ἣν νῦν Ἀλκιβιάδης ἔχει;
ET:
τί οὖν τὰ νῦν; ἦ παρ᾽ ἐκείνου φαίνῃ; καὶ πῶς πρός σε ὁ νεανίας διάκειται;
ΣΩ:
εὖ, ἔμοιγε ἔδοξεν, οὐχ ἥκιστα δὲ καὶ τῇ νῦν ἡμέρᾳ: καὶ γὰρ πολλὰ ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ εἶπε βοηθῶν ἐμοί, καὶ οὖν καὶ ἄρτι ἀπ᾽ ἐκείνου ἔρχομαι. ἄτοπον μέντοι τί σοι ἐθέλω εἰπεῖν: παρόντος γὰρ ἐκείνου, οὔτε προσεῖχον τὸν νοῦν, ἐπελανθανόμην τε αὐτοῦ θαμά. [309c]
ET:
καὶ τί ἂν γεγονὸς εἴη περὶ σὲ κἀκεῖνον τοσοῦτον πρᾶγμα; οὐ γὰρ δήπου τινὶ καλλίονι ἐνέτυχες ἄλλῳ ἔν γε τῇδε τῇ πόλει.
ΣΩ:
καὶ πολύ γε.
ET:
τί φῄς; ἀστῷ ἢ ξένῳ;
ΣΩ:
ξένῳ.
ET:
ποδαπῷ;
ΣΩ:
Ἀβδηρίτῃ.
ET:
καὶ οὕτω καλός τις ὁ ξένος ἔδοξέν σοι εἶναι, ὥστε τοῦ Κλεινίου ὑέος καλλίων σοι φανῆναι;
ΣΩ:
πῶς δ᾽ οὐ μέλλει, ὦ μακάριε, τὸ σοφώτατον κάλλιον φαίνεσθαι;
ET:
ἀλλ᾽ ἦ σοφῷ τινι ἡμῖν, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἐντυχὼν πάρει; [309d]
ΣΩ:
σοφωτάτῳ μὲν οὖν δήπου τῶν γε νῦν, εἴ σοι δοκεῖ σοφώτατος εἶναι Πρωταγόρας.
ET:
ὢ τί λέγεις; Πρωταγόρας ἐπιδεδήμηκεν;
ΣΩ:
τρίτην γε ἤδη ἡμέραν.
ET:
καὶ ἄρτι ἄρα ἐκείνῳ συγγεγονὼς ἥκεις;

from Burnet's (1903) Oxford Classical Text, courtesy of the Perseus Project

An original translation

Companion: Where have you been, Socrates? No wait – you’ve obviously been on the hunt for Alcibiades' youth. Well, when I saw him yesterday, he did look like a beautiful man, Socrates, but a man all the same – just between us – and his beard is already coming in.
Socrates: So what? Don't you approve of Homer, who says, 'the most delightful is the youth of the first beard-growth,' the very stage Alcibiades is now at?
Com: What's the latest, then? Were you just with him? How does the young man feel about you?
Soc: Pretty well, or so I think. Especially today, since he said so much to help me. I left him just now. But I want to tell you about something weird: although I was with him, I wasn't paying him any attention – I pretty much forgot about him.
Com: What could have happened between you two - something big? You didn't come upon someone else more beautiful in this city, did you?
Soc: Quite a bit more.
Com: What? Was he a local or a stranger?
Soc: A stranger.
Com: From?
Soc: Abdera.
Com: And you found this stranger so beautiful that he looked more beautiful than the son of Cleinias?
Soc: Don't you know, my friend, that the wisest looks more beautiful?
Com: Aha! So you're telling us you ran into someone wise, Socrates?
Soc: The wisest man alive, I suppose, if you think Protagoras is the wisest.
Com: Oh! What are you saying? Has Protagoras been in town?
Soc: For two days now.
Com: So you’ve just come after spending time with him?

Jowett's translation (1871)

Com. Where do you come from, Socrates? And yet I need hardly ask the question, for I know that you have been in chase of the fair Alcibiades. I saw the day before yesterday; and he had got a beard like a man-and he is a man, as I may tell you in your ear. But I thought that he was still very charming.
Soc. What of his beard? Are you not of Homer's opinion, who says
Youth is most charming when the beard first appears? And that is now the charm of Alcibiades.
Com. Well, and how do matters proceed? Have you been visiting him, and was he gracious to you?
Soc. Yes, I thought that he was very gracious; and especially to-day, for I have just come from him, and he has been helping me in an argument. But shall I tell you a strange thing? I paid no attention to him, and several times I quite forgot that he was present.
Com. What is the meaning of this? Has anything happened between you and him? For surely you cannot have discovered a fairer love than he is; certainly not in this city of Athens.
Soc. Yes, much fairer.
Com. What do you mean-a citizen or a foreigner?
Soc. A foreigner.
Com. Of what country?
Soc. Of Abdera.
Com. And is this stranger really in your opinion a fairer love than the son of Cleinias?
Soc. And is not the wiser always the fairer, sweet friend?
Com. But have you really met, Socrates, with some wise one?
Soc. Say rather, with the wisest of all living men, if you are willing to accord that title to Protagoras.
Com. What! Is Protagoras in Athens?
Soc. Yes; he has been here two days.
Com. And do you just come from an interview with him?

Compare Lamb's (1924) translation at the Perseus Project

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