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proof. He said: You will find, Socrates, that some of the most impious,
and unrighteous, and intemperate, and ignorant of men are among the most
courageous; which proves that courage is very different from the other
parts of virtue. I was surprised at his saying this at the time, and I
am still more surprised now that I have discussed the matter with you.
So I asked him whether by the brave he meant the confident. Yes, he
replied, and the impetuous or goers. (You may remember, Protagoras, that
this was your answer.)

He assented.

Well then, I said, tell us against what are the courageous ready to
go--against the same dangers as the cowards?

No, he answered.

Then against something different?

Yes, he said.

Then do cowards go where there is safety, and the courageous where there
is danger?

Yes, Socrates, so men say.

Very true, I said. But I want to know against what do you say that
the courageous are ready to go--against dangers, believing them to be
dangers, or not against dangers?

No, said he; the former case has been proved by you in the previous
argument to be impossible.

That, again, I replied, is quite true. And if this has been rightly
proven, then no one goes to meet what he thinks to be dangers, since the
want of self-control, which makes men rush into dangers, has been shown
to be ignorance.

He assented.

And yet the courageous man and the coward alike go to meet that about
which they are confident; so that, in this point of view, the cowardly
and the courageous go to meet the same things.

And yet, Socrates, said Protagoras, that to which the coward goes is the
opposite of that to which the courageous goes; the one, for example, is
ready to go to battle, and the other is not ready.

And is going to battle honourable or disgraceful? I said.

Honourable, he replied.

And if honourable, then already admitted by us to be good; for all
honourable actions we have admitted to be good.

That is true; and to that opinion I shall always adhere.

True, I said. But which of the two are they who, as you say, are
unwilling to go to war, which is a good and honourable thing?

The cowards, he replied.

And what is good and honourable, I said, is also pleasant?

It has certainly been acknowledged to be so, he replied.

And do the cowards knowingly refuse to go to the nobler, and pleasanter,
and better?

The admission of that, he replied, would belie our former admissions.

But does