Pan

Phaedrus: But let us go, now that it has become less oppressively hot.

Socrates: Shouldn’t we first offer a prayer?
Phaedrus: Of course.
Socrates: Dear Pan, and all you other gods who live here, grant that I may become beautiful within, and that whatever outward things I have may be in harmony with the spirit inside me. May I understand that it is only the wise who are rich, and may I have only as much money as a temperate person needs.
-- Is there anything else that we can ask for, Phaedrus? For me, that prayer is enough.

Phaedrus: Make it a prayer for me too, since friends have all things in common.

Socrates: Let’s be going...