is the friend of like, and useful to him--or
rather let me try another way of putting the matter: Can like do
any good or harm to like which he could not do to himself, or suffer
anything from his like which he would not suffer from himself? And if
neither can be of any use to the other, how can they be loved by one
another? Can they now?

They cannot.

And can he who is not loved be a friend?

Certainly not.

But say that the like is not the friend of the like in so far as he is
like; still the good may be the friend of the good in so far as he is
good?

True.

But then again, will not the good, in so far as he is good, be
sufficient for himself? Certainly he will. And he who is sufficient
wants nothing--that is implied in the word sufficient.

Of course not.

And he who wants nothing will desire nothing?

He will not.

Neither can he love that which he does not desire?

He cannot.

And he who loves not is not a lover or friend?

Clearly not.

What place then is there for friendship, if, when absent, good men have
no need of one another (for even when alone they are sufficient for
themselves), and when present have no use of one another? How can such
persons ever be induced to value one another?

They cannot.

And friends they cannot be, unless they value one another?

Very true.

But see now, Lysis, whether we are not being deceived in all this--are
we not indeed entirely wrong?

How so? he replied.

Have I not heard some one say, as I just now recollect, that the like
is the greatest enemy of the like, the good of the good?--Yes, and he
quoted the authority of Hesiod, who says:

'Potter quarrels with potter, bard with bard, Beggar with beggar;'

and of all other things he affirmed, in like manner, 'That of necessity
the most like are most full of envy, strife, and hatred of one another,
and the most unlike, of friendship. For the poor man is compelled to be
the friend of the rich, and the weak requires the aid of the strong,
and the sick man of the physician; and every one who is ignorant, has
to love and court him who knows.' And indeed he went on to say in
grandiloquent language, that the idea of friendship existing between
similars is not the truth, but the very reverse of the truth, and that
the most opposed are the most friendly; for that everything desires not
like but that which is most unlike: for example, the dry desires the
moist, the cold the hot, the bitter the sweet, the s