"But my mother will not hold my head when I am sick." Go to your mother then; for you are a fit person to have your head held when you are sick. "But at home I used to lie down on a delicious bed." Go away to your bed: indeed you are fit to lie on such a bed even when you are in health: do not, then, lose what you can do there.

But what does Socrates say? "As one man," he says, "is pleased with improving his land, another with improving his horse, so I am daily pleased in observing that I am growing better." "Better in what? in using nice little words?" Man, do not say that. "In little matters of speculation?" What are you saying? "And indeed I do not see what else there is on which philosophers employ their time." Does it seem nothing to you to have never found fault with any person, neither with God nor man? to have blamed nobody? to carry the same face always in going out and coming in? This is what Socrates knew, and yet he never said that he knew anything or taught anything. But if any man asked for nice little words or little speculations, he would carry him to Protagoras or to Hippias; and if any man came to ask for pot-herbs, he would carry him to the gardener. Who then among you has this purpose? for if indeed you had it, you would both be content in sickness, and in hunger, and in death. If any among you has been in love with a charming girl, he knows that I say what is true.