Socrates was a perfect exemplar in all great qualities, and I am vexed that he had so deformed a face and body as is said, and so unsuitable to the beauty of his soul, himself being so amorous and such an admirer of beauty:  Nature did him wrong.  There is nothing more probable than the conformity and relation of the body to the soul: 

     “Ipsi animi magni refert, quali in corpore locati sint:  multo enim a
     corpore existunt, qux acuant mentem:  multa qua obtundant;”

     ["It is of great consequence in what bodies minds are placed, for
     many things spring from the body that may sharpen the mind, and many
     that may blunt it.”—­Cicero, Tusc.  Quaes., i. 33.]

this refers to an unnatural ugliness and deformity of limbs; but we call ugliness also an unseemliness at first sight, which is principally lodged in the face, and disgusts us on very slight grounds:  by the complexion, a spot, a rugged countenance, for some reasons often wholly inexplicable, in members nevertheless of good symmetry and perfect.  The deformity, that clothed a very beautiful soul in La Boetie, was of this predicament:  that superficial ugliness, which nevertheless is always the most imperious, is of least prejudice to the state of the mind, and of little certainty in the opinion of men.  The other, which is never properly called deformity, being more substantial, strikes deeper in.  Not every shoe of smooth shining leather, but every shoe well-made, shews the shape of the foot within.  As Socrates said of his, it betrayed equal ugliness in his soul, had he not corrected it by education; but in saying so, I hold he was in jest, as his custom was; never so excellent a soul formed itself.

I cannot often enough repeat how great an esteem I have for beauty, that potent and advantageous quality; he (La Boetie) called it “a short tyranny,” and Plato, “the privilege of nature.”  We have nothing that excels it in reputation; it has the first place in the commerce of men; it presents itself in the front; seduces and prepossesses our judgments with great authority and wonderful impression.  Phryne had lost her cause in the hands of an excellent advocate, if, opening her robe, she had not corrupted her judges by the lustre of her beauty.  And I find that Cyrus, Alexander, and Caesar, the three masters of the world, never neglected beauty in their greatest affairs; no more did the first Scipio.  The same word in Greek signifies both fair and good; and the Holy Word often says good when it means fair:  I should willingly maintain the priority in good things, according to the song that Plato calls an idle thing, taken out of some ancient poet:  “health, beauty, riches.”  Aristotle says that the right of command appertains to the beautiful; and that, when there is a person whose beauty comes near the images of the gods, veneration is equally due to him.  To him who asked why people oftener and longer frequent the company of handsome persons:  “That question,” said he, “is only to be asked by the blind.”  Most of the philosophers, and the greatest, paid for their schooling, and acquired wisdom by the favour and mediation of their beauty.  Not only in the men that serve me, but also in the beasts, I consider it within two fingers’ breadth of goodness.