'Let me hear these same reasons,' said I.
'Wouldst thou deny that every wicked man deserves punishment?'
'I would not, certainly.'
'And that those who are wicked are unhappy is clear in manifold ways?'
'Yes,' I replied.
'Thou dost not doubt, then, that those who deserve punishment are wretched?'
'Agreed,' said I.
'So, then, if thou wert sitting in judgment, on whom wouldst thou decree the infliction of punishment—on him who had done the wrong, or on him who had suffered it?'
'Without doubt, I would compensate the sufferer at the cost of the doer of the wrong.'
'Then, the injurer would seem more wretched than the injured?'
'Yes; it follows. And so for this and other reasons resting on the same ground, inasmuch as baseness of its own nature makes men wretched, it is plain that a wrong involves the misery of the doer, not of the sufferer.'
'And yet,' says she, 'the practice of the law-courts is just the opposite: advocates try to arouse the commiseration of the judges for those who have endured some grievous and cruel wrong; whereas pity is rather due to the criminal, who ought to be brought to the judgment-seat by his