shall, for youth is always able to improve. And so having made a
beginning with Theaetetus, I would advise you to go on with him and
not let him off.

  Soc. Do you hear, Theaetetus, what Theodorus says? The
philosopher, whom you would not like to disobey, and whose word
ought to be a command to a young man, bids me interrogate you. Take
courage, then, and nobly say what you think that knowledge is.

  Theaet. Well, Socrates, I will answer as you and he bid me; and if
make a mistake, you will doubtless correct me.

  Soc. We will, if we can.

  Theaet. Then, I think that the sciences which I learn from
Theodorus-geometry, and those which you just now mentioned-are
knowledge; and I would include the art of the cobbler and other
craftsmen; these, each and all of, them, are knowledge.

  Soc. Too much, Theaetetus, too much; the nobility and liberality
of your nature make you give many and diverse things, when I am asking
for one simple thing.

  Theaet. What do you mean, Socrates?

  Soc. Perhaps nothing. I will endeavour, however, to explain what I
believe to be my meaning: When you speak of cobbling, you mean the art
or science of making shoes?

  Theaet. Just so.

  Soc. And when you speak of carpentering, you mean the art of
making wooden implements?

  Theaet. I do.

  Soc. In both cases you define the subject matter of each of the
two arts?

  Theaet. True.

  Soc. But that, Theaetetus, was not the point of my question: we
wanted to know not the subjects, nor yet the number of the arts or
sciences, for we were not going to count them, but we wanted to know
the nature of knowledge in the abstract. Am I not right?

  Theaet. Perfectly right.

  Soc. Let me offer an illustration: Suppose that a person were to ask
about some very trivial and obvious thing-for example, What is clay?