Now you know, my friend, that I cannot measure anything, and of the
beautiful, I am simply such a measure as a white line is of chalk; for
almost all young persons appear to be beautiful in my eyes. But at that
moment, when I saw him coming in, I confess that I was quite astonished at
his beauty and stature; all the world seemed to be enamoured of him;
amazement and confusion reigned when he entered; and a troop of lovers
followed him. That grown-up men like ourselves should have been affected
in this way was not surprising, but I observed that there was the same
feeling among the boys; all of them, down to the very least child, turned
and looked at him, as if he had been a statue.

Chaerephon called me and said: What do you think of him, Socrates? Has he
not a beautiful face?

Most beautiful, I said.

But you would think nothing of his face, he replied, if you could see his
naked form: he is absolutely perfect.

And to this they all agreed.

By Heracles, I said, there never was such a paragon, if he has only one
other slight addition.

What is that? said Critias.

If he has a noble soul; and being of your house, Critias, he may be
expected to have this.

He is as fair and good within, as he is without, replied Critias.