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Euthyphro
Euthyphro. What strange thing has happened, Socrates, that you have left your accustomed haunts in the Lyceum and are now haunting the portico where the king archon sits? For it cannot be that you have an action before the king, as I have.
Socrates
Socrates. Our Athenians, Euthyphro, do not call it an action, but an indictment.
Euthyphro
Euthyphro. What? Somebody has, it seems, brought an indictment against you; for I don’t accuse you of having brought one against anyone else.
Socrates
Socrates. Certainly not.
Euthyphro
Euthyphro. But someone else against you?
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Socrates
Socrates. Quite so.
Euthyphro
Euthyphro. Who is he?
Socrates
Socrates. I don’t know the man very well myself, Euthyphro, for he seems to be a young and unknown person. His name, however, is Meletus, I believe. And he is of the deme of Pitthus, if you remember any Pitthian Meletus, with long hair and only a little beard, but with a hooked nose.
Euthyphro
Euthyphro. I don’t remember him, Socrates. But what sort of an indictment has he brought against you?
