ne, nor of gymnastic
exercises, who have no return of love; no, nor of wisdom, unless wisdom
loves them in return. Or shall we say that they do love them, although
they are not beloved by them; and that the poet was wrong who sings--

'Happy the man to whom his children are dear, and steeds having single
hoofs, and dogs of chase, and the stranger of another land'?

I do not think that he was wrong.

You think that he is right?

Yes.

Then, Menexenus, the conclusion is, that what is beloved, whether loving
or hating, may be dear to the lover of it: for example, very young
children, too young to love, or even hating their father or mother when
they are punished by them, are never dearer to them than at the time
when they are being hated by them.

I think that what you say is true.

And, if so, not the lover, but the beloved, is the friend or dear one?

Yes.

And the hated one, and not the hater, is the enemy?

Clearly.

Then many men are loved by their enemies, and hated by their friends,
and are the friends of their enemies, and the enemies of their friends.
Yet how absurd, my dear friend, or indeed impossible is this paradox of
a man being an enemy to his friend or a friend to his enemy.

I quite agree, Socrates, in what you say.

But if this cannot be, the lover will be the friend of that which is
loved?

True.

And the hater will be the enemy of that which is hated?

Certainly.

Yet we must acknowledge in this, as in the preceding instance, that a
man may be the friend of one who is not his friend, or who may be his
enemy, when he loves that which does not love him or which even hates
him. And he may be the enemy of one who is not his enemy, and is even
his friend: for example, when he hates that which does not hate him, or
which even loves him.

That appears to be true.

But if the lover is not a friend, nor the beloved a friend, nor both
together, what are we to say? Whom are we to call friends to one
another? Do any remain?

Indeed, Socrates, I cannot find any.

But, O Menexenus! I said, may we not have been altogether wrong in our
conclusions?

I am sure that we have been wrong, Socrates, said Lysis. And he blushed
as he spoke, the words seeming to come from his lips involuntarily,
because his whole mind was taken up with the argument; there was no
mistaking his attentive look while he was listening.

I was pleased at the interest which was shown by Lysis, and I wanted to
give Mene