five, might it not be
hurtful to you?"

A. "Certainly; for I might pay away five obols instead of four."

S. "And so be punished, not by any anger of two and two against
you, but by those very necessary laws of number, which you had
mistaken?"

A. "Yes."

S. "Or if you made a mistake concerning music, as that two
consecutive notes could produce harmony, that opinion also, if you
acted upon it, would be hurtful to you?"

A. "Certainly; for I should make a discord, and pain my own ears,
and my hearers'."

S. "And in this case also, be punished, not by any anger of the
lyre against you, but by those very necessary laws of music which
you had mistaken?"

A. "Yes."

S. "Or if you mistook concerning a brave man, believing him to be a
coward, might not this also be hurtful to you? If, for instance,
you attacked him carelessly, expecting him to run away, and he
defended himself valiantly, and conquered you; or if you neglected
to call for his help in need, expecting him falsely, as in the
former case, to run away; would not such a mistake be hurtful to
you, and punish you, not by any anger of the man against you, but by
your mistake itself?"

A. "It is evident."

S. "We may assume, then, that such mistakes at least are hurtful,
and that they are liable to be punished by the very laws of that
concerning which we mistake?"

A. "We may so assume."

S. "Suppose, then, we were to say: 'What argument is this of
yours, Protagoras?-that concerning lesser things, both intellectual
and moral, such as concerning number, music, or the character of a
man, mistakes are hurtful, and liable to bring punishment, in
proportion to our need of using those things: but concerning the
Gods, the very authors and lawgivers of number, music, human
character, and all other things whatsoever, mistakes are of no
consequence, nor in any way hurtful to man, who stands in need of
their help, not only in stress of battle, once or twice in his life,
as he might of the brave man, but always and in all things both
outward and inward? Does it not seem strange to you, for it does to
me, that to make mistakes concerning such beings should not bring an
altogether infinite and daily punishment, not by any resentment of
theirs, but, as in the case of music or numbers, by the very fact of
our having mistaken the laws of their being, on which the whole
universe depends?'-What do you suppose Protagoras would be able to
answer, if he fa