ATHENIAN: Listen to me then. You’ve done that before, of course, but such a curious eccentricity calls for extreme caution in the speaker and his audience. You see, I’m going to spin a line that almost makes me afraid to open my mouth; still, I’ll pluck up my courage and go ahead.
CLINIAS: What is this thesis of yours, sir?
ATHENIAN: I maintain that no one in any state has really grasped that children’s games affect legislation so crucially as to determine whether the laws that are passed will survive or not. If you control the way children play, and the same children always play the same games under the same rules and in the same conditions, and get pleasure from the same toys, you’ll find that the conventions of adult life too are left in peace without alteration. But in fact games are always being changed and constantly modified and new ones invented, and the younger generation never enthuses over the same thing for two days running. They have no permanent agreed standard of what is becoming or unbecoming either in deportment or their possessions in general; they worship anyone who is always introducing some novelty or doing something unconventional to shapes and colors and all that sort of thing. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that this fellow is the biggest menace that can ever afflict a state, because he quietly changes the character of the young by making them despise old things and value novelty. That kind of language and that kind of outlook is—again I say it—the biggest disaster any state can suffer. Listen: I’ll tell you just how big an evil I maintain it is.
CLINIAS: You mean the way the public grumbles at old-fashioned ways of doing things?
ATHENIAN: Exactly.

CLINIAS: Well, you won’t find us shutting our ears to that kind of argument—you couldn’t have a more sympathetic audience.
ATHENIAN: So I should imagine.
CLINIAS: Go on then.
ATHENIAN: Well now, let’s listen to the argument with even greater attention than usual, and expound it to each other with equal care. Change, we shall find, except in something evil, is extremely dangerous. This is true of seasons and winds, the regimen of the body and the character of the soul—in short, of everything without exception (unless, as I said just now, the change affects something evil). Take as an example the way the body gets used to all sorts of food and drink and exercise. At first they upset it, but then in the course of time it’s this very regimen that is responsible for its putting on flesh. Then the regimen and the flesh form a kind of partnership, so that the body grows used to this congenial and familiar system, and lives a life of perfect happiness and health. But imagine someone forced to change again to one of the other recommended systems: initially, he’s troubled by illnesses, and only slowly, by getting used to his new way of life, does he get back to normal. Well, we must suppose that precisely the same thing happens to a man’s outlook and personality. When the laws under which people are brought up have by some heaven-sent good fortune remained unchanged over a very long period, so that no one remembers or has heard of things ever being any different, the soul is filled with such respect for tradition that it shrinks from meddling with it in any way. Somehow or other the legislator must find a method of bringing about this situation in the state. Now here’s my own solution of the problem. All legislators suppose that an alteration to children’s games really is just a ‘game’, as I said before, which leads to no serious or genuine damage. Consequently, so far from preventing change, they feebly give it their blessing. They don’t appreciate that if children introduce novelties into their games, they’ll inevitably turn out to be quite different people from the previous generation; being different, they’ll demand a different kind of life, and that will then make them want new institutions and laws. The next stage is what we described just now as the biggest evil that can affect a state—but not a single legislator takes fright at the prospect. Other changes, that affect only deportment, will do less harm, but it is a very serious matter indeed to keep changing the criteria for praising or censuring a man’s moral character, and we must take great care to avoid doing so.
CLINIAS: Of course.
ATHENIAN: Well then, are we still happy about the line we took earlier, when we said that games in general were means of representing the characters of good men and bad? Or what?
CLINIAS: Yes, our view remains exactly the same.
ATHENIAN: So our position is this: we must do everything we possibly can to distract the younger generation from wanting to try their hand at presenting new subjects, especially in video games; and we must also stop pleasure-mongers seducing them into the attempt.
CLINIAS: You’re absolutely right.

“Do you want to return to the hypothesis from the beginning, in the hope that
another kind of result may come to light as we go back over it?”—“I do
indeed.”—“If one is, we are saying, aren’t we, that we must agree on the
consequences for it, whatever they happen to be?”—“Yes.”—“Consider from the
beginning: if one is, can it be, but not partake of being?”—“It
cannot.”—“So there would also be the being of the one, and that is not the same
as the one. For if it were, it couldn’t be the being of the one, nor could
the one partake of it. On the contrary, saying that one is would be like saying
that one is one. But this time that is not the hypothesis, namely, what the
consequences must be, if one is one, but if one is. Isn’t that so?”—“Of
course.”—“Is that because ‘is’ signifies something other than
‘one’?”—“Necessarily.”—“So whenever someone, being brief, says ‘one is,’ would
this simply mean that the one partakes of being?”—“Certainly.”

“Let’s again say what the consequences will be, if one is. Consider
whether this hypothesis must not signify that the one is such as to have
parts.”—“How so?”—“In this way: if we state the ‘is’ of the one that is, and the
‘one’ of that which is one, and if being and oneness are not the same, but both
belong to that same thing that we hypothesized, namely, the one that is, must it
not itself, since it is one being, be a whole, and the parts of this whole be
oneness and being?”—“Necessarily.”—“Shall we call each of these two parts a part
only, or must the part be called part of the whole?”—“Of the whole.”—“Therefore
whatever is one both is a whole and has a part.”—“Certainly.”

“Now, what about each of these two parts of the one that is, oneness
and being? Is oneness ever absent from the being part or being from the
oneness part?”—“That couldn’t be.”—“So again, each of the two parts possesses
oneness and being; and the part, in its turn, is composed of at least two parts;
and in this way always, for the same reason, whatever part turns up always
possesses these two parts, since oneness always possesses being and being always
possesses oneness. So, since it always proves to be two, it must
never be one.”—“Absolutely.”—“So, in this way, wouldn’t the one that is be
unlimited in multitude?”—“So it seems.”

“Come, let’s proceed further in the following way.”—“How?”—“Do we
say that the one partakes of being, and hence is?”—“Yes.”—“And for this reason
the one that is was shown to be many.”—“Just so.”—“And what about the one
itself, which we say partakes of being? If we grasp it in thought alone by
itself, without that of which we say it partakes, will it appear to be only one,
or will this same thing also appear to be many?”—“One, I should
think.”—“Let’s see. Must not its being be something and it itself something
different, if in fact the one is not being but, as one, partakes of
being?”—“Necessarily.”—“So if being is something and the one is something
different, it is not by its being one that the one is different from being, nor
by its being being that being is other than the one. On the contrary, they are
different from each other by difference and otherness.”—“Of course.”—“And so
difference is not the same as oneness or being.”—“Obviously not.”

“Now, if we select from them, say, being and difference, or being
and oneness, or oneness and difference, do we not in each selection choose a
certain pair that is correctly called ‘both’?”—“How so?”—“As follows: we can say
‘being’?”—“We can.”—“And, again, we can say ‘one’?”—“That too.”—“So hasn’t each
of the pair been mentioned?”—“Yes.”—“What about when I say ‘being and oneness’?
Haven’t both been mentioned?”—“Certainly.”—“And if I say ‘being and difference’
or ‘difference and oneness,’ and so on – in each case don’t I speak of
both?”—“Yes.”—“Can things that are correctly called ‘both’ be both, but not
two?”—“They cannot.”—“If there are two things, is there any way for each member
of the pair not to be one?”—“Not at all.”—“Therefore, since in fact each pair
taken together turns out to be two, each member would be
one.”—“Apparently.”—“And if each of them is one, when any one is added to any
couple, doesn’t the total prove to be three?”—“Yes.”—“And isn’t three odd, and
two even?”—“Doubtless.”

“What about this? Since there are two, must there not also be twice,
and since there are three, thrice, if in fact two is two times one and three
is three times one?”—“Necessarily.”—“Since there are two and twice, must there
not be two times two? And since there are three and thrice, must there not be
three times three?”—“Doubtless.”—“And again: if there are three and they are two
times, and if there are two and they are three times, must there not be two
times three and three times two?”—“There certainly must.”—“Therefore, there
would be even times even, odd times odd, odd times even, and even
times odd.”—“That’s so.”—“Then if that is so, do you think there is any number
that need not be?”—“In no way at all.”—“Therefore, if one is, there must also be
number.”—“Necessarily.”—“But if there is number, there would be many, and an
unlimited multitude of beings. Or doesn’t number, unlimited in multitude, also
prove to partake of being?”—“It certainly does.”—“So if all number partakes of
being, each part of number would also partake of it?”—“Yes.”

“So has being been distributed to all things, which are many, and is
it missing from none of the beings, neither the smallest nor the largest? Or
is it unreasonable even to ask that question? How could being be missing from
any of the beings?”—“In no way.”—“So being is chopped up into beings of all
kinds, from the smallest to the largest possible, and is the most divided thing
of all; and the parts of being are countless.”—“Quite so.”—“Therefore its
parts are the most numerous of things.”—“The most numerous indeed.”

“Now, is there any of them that is part of being, yet not one
part?”—“How could that happen?”—“I take it, on the contrary, that if in fact it is, it must always, as long as it is, be some one thing; it cannot be
nothing.”—“Necessarily.”—“So oneness is attached to every part of being and is
not absent from a smaller or a larger, or any other, part.”—“Just so.”—“So,
being one, is it, as a whole, in many places at the same time? Look at this
carefully.”—“I am– and I see that it’s impossible.”—“Therefore as divided, if in
fact not as a whole; for surely it will be present to all the parts of being at
the same time only as divided.”—“Yes.”—“Furthermore, a divided thing certainly
must be as numerous as its parts.”—“Necessarily.”—“So we were not speaking truly
just now, when we said that being had been distributed into the most numerous
parts. It is not distributed into more parts than oneness, but, as it seems,
into parts equal to oneness, since neither is being absent from oneness, nor is
oneness absent from being. On the contrary, being two, they are always equal
throughout all things.”—“It appears absolutely so.”—“Therefore, the one itself,
chopped up by being, is many and unlimited in multitude.”—“Apparently.”—“So not
only is it the case that the one being is many, but also the one itself,
completely distributed by being, must be many.”—“Absolutely.”

“Furthermore, because the parts are parts of a whole, the one, as
the whole, would be limited. Or aren’t the parts contained by the
whole?”—“Necessarily.”—“But surely that which contains would be a
limit.”—“Doubtless.”—“So the one that is is surely both one and many, a whole
and parts, and limited and unlimited in multitude.”—“Apparently.”

“So, since in fact it is limited, does it not also have
extremities?”—“Necessarily.”—“And again: if it is a whole, would it not have a
beginning, a middle, and an end? Or can anything be a whole without those three?
And if any one of them is missing from something, will it still consent to be a
whole?”—“It won’t.”—“The one, as it seems, would indeed have a beginning, an
end, and a middle.”—“It would.”—“But the middle is equidistant from the
extremities – otherwise, it wouldn’t be a middle.”—“No, it wouldn’t.”—“Since the
one is like that, it would partake of some shape, as it seems, either straight
or round, or some shape mixed from both.”—“Yes, it would partake of a
shape.”

“Since it is so, won’t it be both in itself and in another?”—“How
so?”—“Each of the parts is surely in the whole, and none outside the whole.”—
“Just so.”—“And are all the parts contained by the whole?”—“Yes.”—“Furthermore,
the one is all the parts of itself, and not any more or less than all.”—“No, it
isn’t.”—“The one is also the whole, is it not?”—“Doubtless.”—“So if all its
parts are actually in a whole, and the one is both all the parts and the whole
itself, and all the parts are contained by the whole, the one would be contained
by the one; and thus the one itself would, then, be in
itself.”—“Apparently.”

“Yet, on the other hand, the whole is not in the parts, either
in all or in some one. For if it were in all, it would also have to be in one,
because if it were not in some one, it certainly could not be in all. And if
this one is among them all, but the whole is not in it, how will the whole still
be in all?”—“In no way.”—“Nor is it in some of the parts: for if the whole were
in some, the greater would be in the less, which is impossible.”—“Yes,
impossible.”—“But if the whole is not in some or one or all the parts, must it
not be in something different or be nowhere at all?”—“Necessarily.”—“If it
were nowhere, it would be nothing; but since it is a whole, and is not in
itself, it must be in another. Isn’t that so?”—“Certainly.”—“So the one, insofar
as it is a whole, is in another; but insofar as it is all the parts, it is in
itself. And thus the one must be both in itself and in a different
thing.”—“Necessarily.”

“Since that is the one’s natural state, must it not be both in
motion and at rest?”—“How?”—“It is surely at rest, if in fact it is in itself.
For being in one thing and not stirring from that, it would be in
the same thing, namely, itself.”—“Yes, it is.”—“And that which is always in the
same thing must, of course, always be at rest.”—“Certainly.”—“What about this?
Must not that which is always in a different thing be, on the contrary, never in
the same thing? And since it is never in the same thing, also not at rest? And
since not at rest, in motion?”—“Just so.”—“Therefore the one, since it is itself
always both in itself and in a different thing, must always be both in motion
and at rest.”—“Apparently.”

“Furthermore, it must be the same as itself and different from
itself, and, likewise, the same as and different from the others, if in fact
it has the aforesaid properties.”—“How so?”—“Everything is surely related to
everything as follows: either it is the same or different; or, if it is not the
same or different, it would be related as part to whole or as whole to
part.”—“Apparently.”

“Is the one itself part of itself?”—“In no way.”—“So neither could
it be a whole in relation to itself as part of itself, because then it would be
a part in relation to itself.”—“No, it could not.”—“But is the one different
from one?”—“No indeed.”—“So it couldn’t be different from itself.”—“Certainly
not.”—“So if it is neither different nor whole nor part in relation to itself,
must it not then be the same as itself?”—“Necessarily.”

“What about this? Must not that which is in something different from
itself – the self that is in the same thing as itself – be different from
itself, if in fact it is also to be in something different?”—“It seems so to
me.”—“In fact the one was shown to be so, since it is, at the same time, both in
itself and in a different thing.”—“Yes, it was.”—“So in this way the one, as it
seems, would be different from itself.”—“So it seems.”

“Now, if anything is different from something, won’t it be different
from something that is different?”—“Necessarily.”—“Aren’t all the things that
are not-one different from the one, and the one from the things
not-one?”—“Doubtless.”—“Therefore the one would be different from the
others.”—“Different.”

“Consider this: aren’t the same itself and the different opposite to
each other?”—“Doubtless.”—“Then will the same ever consent to be in the
different, or the different in the same?”—“It won’t.”—“So if the different is
never to be in the same, there is no being that the different is in for any
time; for if it were in anything for any time whatsoever, for that time the
different would be in the same. Isn’t that so?”—“Just so.”—“But since it is
never in the same, the different would never be in any being.”—“True.”—“So the
different wouldn’t be in the things not-one or in the one.”—“Yes, you’re quite
right.”—“So not by the different would the one be different from the things
not-one or they different from it.”—“No, it wouldn’t.”—“Nor by themselves would
they be different from each other, if they don’t partake of the
different.”—“Obviously not.”—“But if they aren’t different by themselves or by
the different, wouldn’t they in fact entirely avoid being different from each
other?”—“They would.”—“But neither do the things not-one partake of the one;
otherwise they would not be not-one, but somehow one.”—“True.”—“So the things
not-one could not be a number either; for in that case, too, they would not be
absolutely not-one, since they would at least have number.”—“Yes, you’re quite
right.”—“And again: are the things not-one parts of the one? Or would the things
not-one in that case, too, partake of the one?”—“They would.”—“So if it is in
every way one, and they are in every way not-one, the one would be neither a
part of the things not-one nor a whole with them as parts; and, in turn, the
things not-one would be neither parts of the one nor wholes in relation to the
one as part.”—“No, they wouldn’t.”—“But in fact we said that things that are
neither parts nor wholes nor different from each other will be the same as each
other.”—“Yes, we did.”—“So are we to say that the one, since it is so related to
the things not-one, is the same as they are?”—“Let’s say so.”—“Therefore the
one, as it seems, is both different from the others and itself, and the same as
the others and itself.”—“It certainly looks that way from our argument.”

“Would the one then also be both like and unlike itself and the
others?”—“Perhaps.”—“At any rate, since it was shown to be different from the
others, the others would surely also be different from it.”—“To be
sure.”—“Wouldn’t it be different from the others just as they are different from
it, and neither more nor less?”—“Yes, why not?”—“So if neither more nor less, in
like degree.”—“Yes.”—“Accordingly, insofar as it has the property of being
different from the others and they, likewise, have the property of being
different from it, in this way the one would have a property the same as the
others, and they would have a property the same as it.”—“What do you mean?”

“As follows: don’t you apply to something each name you use?”—“I
do.”—“Now, could you use the same name either more than once or once?”—“I
could.”—“So if you use it once, do you call by name that thing whose name it is,
but not that thing, if you use it many times? Or whether you utter the same name
once or many times, do you quite necessarily always also speak of the same
thing?”—“To be sure.”—“Now ‘different’ in particular is a name for
something, isn’t it?”—“Certainly.”—“So when you utter it, whether once or many
times, you don’t apply it to another thing or name something other than that
thing whose name it is.”—“Necessarily.”—“Whenever we say ‘the others are
different from the one’ and ‘the one is different from the others,’ although we
use ‘different’ twice, we don’t apply it to another nature, but always to that
nature whose name it is.”—“Of course.”—“So insofar as the one is different from
the others, and the others from the one, on the basis of having the property
difference itself, the one would have a property not other, but the
same as the others. And that which has a property the same is surely like, isn’t
it?”—“Yes.”—“Indeed, insofar as the one has the property of being different from
the others, owing to that property itself it would be altogether like them all,
because it is altogether different from them all.”—“So it seems.”

“Yet, on the other hand, the like is opposite to the
unlike.”—“Yes.”—“Isn’t the different also opposite to the same?”—“That
too.”—“But this was shown as well: that the one is the same as the
others.”—“Yes, it was.”—“And being the same as the others is the property
opposite to being different from the others.”—“Certainly.”—“Insofar as the one
is different, it was shown to be like.”—“Yes.”—“So insofar as it is the same, it
will be unlike, owing to the property opposite to that which makes it like. And
surely the different made it like?”—“Yes.”—“So the same will make it unlike;
otherwise it won’t be opposite to the different.”—“So it seems.”—“Therefore
the one will be like and unlike the others – insofar as it is different, like,
and insofar as it is the same, unlike.”—“Yes, it admits of this argument too, as
it seems.”

“It also admits of the following.”—“What is that?”—“Insofar as it
has a property the same, it has a property that is not of another kind; and if
it has a property that is not of another kind, it is not unlike; and if not
unlike, it is like. But insofar as it has a property other, it has a property
that is of another kind; and if it has a property that is of another kind, it is
unlike.”—“That’s true.”—“So because the one is the same as the others and
because it is different, on both grounds and either, it would be both like
and unlike the others.”—“Certainly.”

“So, in the same way, it will be like and unlike itself as well.
Since in fact it was shown to be both different from itself and the same as
itself, on both grounds and either, won’t it be shown to be both like and unlike
itself?”—“Necessarily.”

“And what about this? Consider the question whether the one touches
or does not touch itself and the others.”—“Very well.”—“Surely the one was shown
to be in itself as a whole.”—“That’s right.”—“Isn’t the one also in the
others?”—“Yes.”—“Then insofar as it is in the others, it would touch the
others; but insofar as it is in itself, it would be kept from touching the
others, and being in itself, would touch itself.”—“Apparently.”—“Thus the one
would touch itself and the others.”—“It would.”

“And again, in this way: must not everything that is to touch
something lie next to that which it is to touch, occupying the position adjacent
to that occupied by what it touches?”—“Necessarily.”—“So, too, the one, if it is
to touch itself, must lie directly adjacent to itself, occupying a place next to
that in which it itself is.”—“Yes, it must.”—“Now if the one were two it could
do that and turn out to be in two places at the same time; but
won’t it refuse as long as it is one?”—“Yes, you’re quite right.”—“So the same
necessity that keeps the one from being two keeps it from touching itself.”—“The
same.”

“But it won’t touch the others either.”—“Why?”—“Because, we say,
that which is to touch must, while being separate, be next to what it is to
touch, and there must be no third thing between them.”—“True.”—“So there must be
at least two things if there is to be contact.”—“There must.”—“But if to the two
items a third is added in a row, they themselves will be three, their
contacts two.”—“Yes.”—“And thus whenever one item is added, one contact is also
added, and it follows that the contacts are always fewer by one than the
multitude of the numbers. For in regard to the number being greater than the
contacts, every later number exceeds all the contacts by an amount equal to that
by which the first two exceeded their contacts, since thereafter one is
added to the number and, at the same time, one contact to the contacts.”—“That’s
right.”—“So however many the things are in number, the contacts are always fewer
than they are by one.”—“True.”—“But if there is only one, and not two, there
could not be contact.”—“Obviously not.”—“Certainly the things other than the
one, we say, are not one and do not partake of it, if in fact they are
other.”—“No, they don’t.”—“So number is not in the others, if one is not in
them.”—“Obviously not.”—“So the others are neither one nor two, nor do they
have a name of any other number.”—“No.”—“So the one alone is one, and there
could not be two.”—“Apparently not.”—“So there is no contact, since there aren’t
two items.”—“There isn’t.”—“Therefore, the one doesn’t touch the others nor do
the others touch the one, since in fact there is no contact.”—“Yes, you’re quite
right.”—“Thus, to sum up, the one both touches and does not touch the others and
itself.”—“So it seems.”

“Is it then both equal and unequal to itself and the others?”—“How
so?”—“If the one were greater or less than the others, or they in turn
greater or less than it, they wouldn’t be in any way greater or less than each
other by the one being one and the others being other than one – that is, by
their own being – would they? But if they each had equality in addition to their
own being, they would be equal to each other. And if the others had largeness
and the one had smallness, or vice versa, whichever form had largeness attached
would be greater, and whichever had smallness attached would be
less?”—“Necessarily.”

“Then aren’t there these two forms, largeness and smallness? For
certainly, if there weren’t, they couldn’t be opposite to each other and
couldn’t occur in things that are.”—“No. How could they?”—“So if
smallness occurs in the one, it would be either in the whole of it or in part of
it.”—“Necessarily.”—“What if it were to occur in the whole? Wouldn’t it be in
the one either by being stretched equally throughout the whole of it, or by
containing it?”—“Quite clearly.”—“Wouldn’t smallness, then, if it were in the
one equally throughout, be equal to it, but if it contained the one, be
larger?”—“Doubtless.”—“So can smallness be equal to or larger than something,
and do the jobs of largeness and equality, but not its own?”—“It can’t.”—“So
smallness could not be in the one as a whole; but if in fact it is in the one,
it would be in a part.”—“Yes.”—“But, again, not in all the part. Otherwise, it
will do exactly the same thing as it did in relation to the whole: it will be
equal to or larger than whatever part it is in.”—“Necessarily.”—“Therefore
smallness will never be in any being, since it occurs neither in a part nor in a
whole. Nor will anything be small except smallness itself.”—“It seems not.”

“So largeness won’t be in the one either. For if it were, something
else, apart from largeness itself, would be larger than something, namely, that
which the largeness is in – and that too, although there is for it no small
thing, which it must exceed, if in fact it is large. But this is impossible,
since smallness is nowhere in anything.”—“True.”

“But largeness itself is not greater than anything other than
smallness itself, nor is smallness less than anything other than largeness
itself.”—“No, they aren’t.”—“So the others aren’t greater than the one, nor are
they less, because they have neither largeness nor smallness. Nor do these two
themselves – largeness and smallness – have, in relation to the one, their
power of exceeding and being exceeded; they have it, rather, in relation to each
other. Nor could the one, in its turn, be greater or less than these two or the
others, since it has neither largeness nor smallness.”—“It certainly appears
not.”—“So if the one is neither greater nor less than the others, it must
neither exceed them nor be exceeded by them?”—“Necessarily.”—“Now, it is quite
necessary that something that neither exceeds nor is exceeded be equally
matched, and if equally matched, equal.”—“No doubt.”

“Furthermore, the one would also itself be so in relation to itself:
having neither largeness nor smallness in itself, it would neither be
exceeded by nor exceed itself, but, being equally matched, would be equal to
itself.”—“Of course.”—“Therefore the one would be equal to itself and the
others.”—“Apparently.”

“And yet, since it is in itself, it would also be around itself on
the outside, and as container it would be greater than itself, but as contained
it would be less. And thus the one would be greater and less than
itself.”—“Yes, it would be.”

“Isn’t this necessary too, that there be nothing outside the one and
the others?”—“No doubt.”—“But surely what is must always be
somewhere.”—“Yes.”—“Then won’t that which is in something be in something
greater as something less? For there is no other way that something could be in
something else.”—“No, there isn’t.”—“Since there is nothing else apart from the
others and the one, and since they must be in something, must they not in fact
be in each other – the others in the one and the one in the others – or else
be nowhere?”—“Apparently.”—“So, on the one hand, because the one is in the
others, the others would be greater than the one, since they contain it, and the
one would be less than the others, since it is contained. On the other hand,
because the others are in the one, by the same argument the one would be greater
than the others and they less than it.”—“So it seems.”—“Therefore the one is
both equal to, and greater and less than, itself and the
others.”—“Apparently.”

“And if in fact it is greater and less and equal, it would be of
measures equal to, and more and fewer than, itself and the others; and since
of measures, also of parts.”—“Doubtless.”—“So, since it is of equal and more and
fewer measures, it would also be fewer and more than itself and the others in
number, and, correspondingly, equal to itself and the others.”—“How so?”—“It
would surely be of more measures than those things it is greater than, and of as
many parts as measures; and likewise it would be of fewer measures and parts
than those things it is less than; and correspondingly for the things it is
equal to.”—“Just so.”—“Since it is, then, greater and less than, and equal
to, itself, would it not be of measures more and fewer than, and equal to,
itself? And since of measures, also of parts?”—“Doubtless.”—“So, since it is of
parts equal to itself, it would be equal to itself in multitude, but since it is
of more and fewer parts, it would be more and fewer than itself in
number.”—“Apparently.”—“Now won’t the one be related in the same way also to the
others? Because it appears larger than they, it must also be more than they are
in number; and because it appears smaller, fewer; and because it appears equal
in largeness, it must also be equal to the others in
multitude.”—“Necessarily.”—“Thus, in turn, as it seems, the one will be
equal to, and more and fewer than, itself and the others in number.”—“It
will.”

“Does the one also partake of time? And, in partaking of time, is it
and does it come to be both younger and older than, and neither younger nor
older than, itself and the others?”—“How so?”—“If in fact one is, being surely
belongs to it.”—“Yes.”—“But is to be simply partaking of being with time present, just as was is communion with being
together with time past, and, in turn, will be is communion with being
together with time future?”—“Yes, it is.”—“So the one partakes of time, if in
fact it partakes of being.”—“Certainly.”

“Of time advancing?”—“Yes.”—“So the one always comes to be older
than itself, if in fact it goes forward in step with time.”—“Necessarily.”—“Do
we recall that the older comes to be older than something that comes to be
younger?”—“We do.”—“So, since the one comes to be older than itself, wouldn’t it
come to be older than a self that comes to be younger?”—“Necessarily.”—“Thus
it indeed comes to be both younger and older than itself.”—“Yes.”

“But it is older, isn’t it, whenever, in coming to be, it is
at the now time, between was and will be? For as it proceeds from
the past to the future, it certainly won’t jump over the now.”—“No, it
won’t.”—“Doesn’t it stop coming to be older when it encounters the now? It
doesn’t come to be, but is then already older, isn’t it? For if it were going
forward, it could never be grasped by the now. A thing going forward is able to
lay hold of both the now and the later – releasing the now and reaching for the
later, while coming to be between the two, the later and the now.”—“True.”—“But
if nothing that comes to be can sidestep the now, whenever a thing is at
this point, it always stops its coming-to-be and then is whatever it may
have come to be.”—“Apparently.”—“So, too, the one: whenever, in coming to be
older, it encounters the now, it stops its coming-to-be and is then older.”—“Of
course.”—“So it also is older than that very thing it was coming to be older
than – and wasn’t it coming to be older than itself?”—“Yes.”—“And the older is
older than a younger?”—“It is.”—“So the one is then also younger than itself,
whenever, in its coming-to-be older, it encounters the now.”—“Necessarily.”—“Yet
the now is always present to the one throughout its being; for the one always is
now, whenever it is.”—“No doubt.”—“Therefore the one always both is and
comes to be older and younger than itself.”—“So it seems.”

“Is it or does it come to be for more time than itself or an equal
time?”—“An equal.”—“But if it comes to be or is for an equal time, it is the
same age.”—“Doubtless.”—“And that which is the same age is neither older nor
younger.”—“No, it isn’t.”—“So the one, since it comes to be and is for a time
equal to itself, neither is nor comes to be younger or older than itself.”—“I
think not.”

“And again: what of the others?”—“I can’t say.”—“This much, surely,
you can say: things other than the one, if in fact they are
different things and not a different thing, are more than one. A
different thing would be one, but different things are more than one and would
have multitude.”—“Yes, they would.”—“And, being a multitude, they would partake
of a greater number than the one.”—“Doubtless.”—“Now, shall we say in connection
with number that things that are more or things that are less come to be and
have come to be earlier?”—“Things that are less.”—“So, the least thing first;
and this is the one. Isn’t that so?”—“Yes.”—“So of all the things that have
number the one has come to be first. And the others, too, all have number, if in
fact they are others and not an other.”—“Yes, they do.”—“But that which has come
to be first, I take it, has come to be earlier, and the others later; and things
that have come to be later are younger than what has come to be earlier. Thus
the others would be younger than the one, and the one older than they.”—“Yes, it
would.”

“What about the following? Could the one have come to be in a way
contrary to its own nature, or is that impossible?”—“Impossible.”—“Yet
the one was shown to have parts, and if parts, a beginning, an end, and a
middle.”—“Yes.”—“Well, in the case of all things – the one itself and each of
the others – doesn’t a beginning come to be first, and after the beginning all
the others up to the end?”—“To be sure.”—“Furthermore, we shall say that all
these others are parts of some one whole, but that it itself has come to be one
and whole at the same time as the end.”—“Yes, we shall.”—“An end, I take it,
comes to be last, and the one naturally comes to be at the same time as it.
And so if in fact the one itself must not come to be contrary to nature, it
would naturally come to be later than the others, since it has come to be at the
same time as the end.”—“Apparently.”—“Therefore the one is younger than the
others, and the others are older than it.”—“That, in turn, appears to me to be
so.”

“But again: must not a beginning or any other part of the one or of
anything else, if in fact it is a part and not parts, be one, since it is a part?”—“Necessarily.”—“Accordingly, the one would come to be at the
same time as the first part that comes to be, and at the same time as the
second; and it is absent from none of the others that come to be – no matter
what is added to what – until, upon arriving at the last part, it comes to be
one whole, having been absent at the coming-to-be of neither the middle nor the
first nor the last nor any other part.”—“True.”—“Therefore the one is the same
age as all the others. And so, unless the one itself is naturally contrary to
nature, it would have come to be neither earlier nor later than the
others, but at the same time. And according to this argument the one would be
neither older nor younger than the others, nor the others older or younger than
it. But according to our previous argument, it was both older and younger than
they, and likewise they were both older and younger than it.”—“Of course.”