It was a long while that Hippias had not been at Athens; and being arrived there, he happened to come to a place where Socrates was discoursing with some persons, and telling them that if any one had a mind to learn a trade, there wanted not masters to teach him; nay, that if one would have a horse trained up there were persons enough to undertake it; but that if one desired to learn to be a good man, or to have his son, or any of his family taught to be so, it would be difficult to know to whom to apply himself.  Hippias rallying him, said:—­“What!  Socrates, you are still repeating the same things I heard you say so long ago.”  “Nay, more,” replied Socrates, “and always upon the same subject; but you, perhaps, being learned as you are, do not always say the same thing upon the same subject.”  “Indeed,” said Hippias, “I always endeavour to say something new.”  “Is it possible,” replied Socrates?  “Pray tell me if you were asked how many letters there are in my name, and which they are, would you answer sometimes in one manner and sometimes in another?  Or if you were asked whether twice five be not ten, would you not always say the same thing?” “In subjects like those,” said Hippias, “I should be obliged to say the same thing as well as you; but since we are upon the theme of justice, I believe I can now say some things of it, against which, neither you nor any man else can make any objection.”  “Good God!” cried Socrates, “what a mighty boast is here!  Upon my word, Hippias, you have made an admirable discovery! and you have reason to value yourself upon it; for, let me tell you, if you can establish one single opinion of justice, the judges will be no longer divided in their sentiments, there will be no more quarrels, no more suits at law, no more seditions among citizens, no more wars between republics.  Indeed, it much troubles me to leave you before you have taught me this secret, which you say you have discovered.”  “I give you my word,” answered Hippias, “that I will tell you nothing of it, till you have first declared your own opinion concerning justice; for it is your old way to interrogate others, and then to laugh at them by refuting what they have said; but you never make known your own opinions, that you may not be obliged to give a reason for them.”  “Why do you lay this to my charge,” said Socrates, “since I am continually showing to all the world what are the things I believe to be just?” “How do you show it?” said Hippias.  “If I explain it not by my words,” answered Socrates, “my actions speak it sufficiently; and do you think that actions deserve not rather to be believed than words?” “Much rather,” said Hippias, “because many may say one thing, and do another; nay, we see that, in fact, many who preach up justice to others are very unjust themselves; but this cannot be said of a man whose every action is good, and that never in his life did an unjust thing.”  “Have you known, then,” said Socrates, “that I have accused any man