Indeed, Socrates, to confess the truth, I am.

But you should not assume, Hippocrates, that the instruction of Protagoras
is of this nature: may you not learn of him in the same way that you
learned the arts of the grammarian, or musician, or trainer, not with the
view of making any of them a profession, but only as a part of education,
and because a private gentleman and freeman ought to know them?

Just so, he said; and that, in my opinion, is a far truer account of the
teaching of Protagoras.

I said: I wonder whether you know what you are doing?

And what am I doing?

You are going to commit your soul to the care of a man whom you call a
Sophist. And yet I hardly think that you know what a Sophist is; and if
not, then you do not even know to whom you are committing your soul and
whether the thing to which you commit yourself be good or evil.

I certainly think that I do know, he replied.

Then tell me, what do you imagine that he is?

I take him to be one who knows wise things, he replied, as his name
implies.

And might you not, I said, affirm this of the painter and of the carpenter
also: Do not they, too, know wise things? But suppose a person were to
ask us: In what are the painters wise? We should answer: In what relates