To take a particular case. It was a mere kiss which, as he had heard, Critobulus had some time given to a fair youth, the son of Alcibiades. Accordingly Critobulus being present, Socrates propounded the question:
Socrates: "Tell me, Xenophon, have you not always believed Critobulus to be a man of sound sense, not wild and self-willed? Should you not have said that he was remarkable for his prudence rather than thoughtless or foolhardy?"
Xenophon: "Certainly that is what I should have said of him."
Socrates: "Then you are now to regard him as quite the reverse—a hot-blooded, reckless libertine: this is the sort of man to throw somersaults into knives, or to leap into the jaws of fire."
Xenophon: "And what have you seen him doing, that you give him so bad a character?"
Socrates: "Doing? Why, has not the fellow dared to steal a kiss from the son of Alcibiades, most fair of youths and in the golden prime?"
Xenophon: "Nay, then, if that is the foolhardy adventure, it is a danger which I could well encounter myself."
Socrates: "Poor soul! and what do you expect your fate to be after that kiss? Let me tell you. On the instant you will lose your freedom, the indenture of your bondage will be signed; it will be yours on compulsion to spend large sums on hurtful pleasures; you will have scarcely a moment's leisure left for any noble study; you will be driven to concern yourself most zealously with things which no man, not even a madman, would choose to make an object of concern."
Xenophon: "O Heracles! how fell a power to reside in a kiss!"
Socrates: "Does it surprise you? Do you not know that the tarantula, which is no bigger than a threepenny bit, has only to touch the mouth and it will afflict its victim with pains and drive him out of his senses?"
Xenophon: "Yes, but then the creature injects something with its bite."
Socrates: "Ah, fool! and do you imagine that these lovely creatures infuse nothing with their kiss, simply because you do not see the poison? Do you not know that this wild beast which men call beauty in its bloom is all the more terrible than the tarantula in that the insect must first touch its victim, but this at a mere glance of the beholder, without even contact, will inject something into him—yards away—which will make him man.
"And maybe that is why the Loves are called 'archers,' because these beauties wound so far off.
"But my advice to you, Xenophon, is, whenever you catch sight of one of these fair forms, to run helter-skelter for bare life without a glance behind; and to you, Critobulus, I would say, 'Go abroad for a year: so long time will it take to heal you of this wound.'"
Such, he said, in the affairs of Aphrodite, as in meats and drinks, should be the circumspection of all whose footing is insecure. At least they should confine themselves to such diet as the soul would dispense with, save for some necessity of the body; and which even so ought to set up no disturbance.
But for himself, it was clear, he was prepared at all points and invulnerable. He found less difficulty in abstaining from beauty's fairest and fullest bloom than many others from weeds and garbage.
To sum up: with regard to eating and drinking and these other temptations of the sense, the equipment of his soul made him independent; he could boast honestly that in his moderate fashion his pleasures were no less than theirs who take such trouble to procure them, and his pains far fewer.
—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.3
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