From “Phædo.” Whewell’s translation.

CRITO said: “I think, Socrates, the sun is still upon the mountains, and has not yet set. I have known persons who have drunk the poison late in the evening, who after the announcement was made to them supped well and drank well, and enjoyed the society of their dearest friends. Do not act in haste. There is yet time.”

  “Probably,” said Socrates, “those who did as you say thought that it was a gain to do so, and I have equally good reasons for not doing so. I shall gain nothing by drinking the poison a little later except to make myself ridiculous to myself, as if I were so fond of life that I would cling to it when it is slipping away. But go,” said he “do as I say, and no otherwise.”

  On this, Crito made a sign to the servant who stood by; and he, going out after some time, brought in the man who was to administer the poison, which he brought prepared in a cup. And Socrates, seeing the man, said:—

  “Well, my excellent friend, you are skillful in this matter: what am I to do?”

  “Nothing,” said he; “but when you have drunk it, walk about till your legs feel heavy, and then lie down. The drink will do the rest”; and at the same time he offered the cup to Socrates.

  And he, taking it, said very calmly (I assure you, Echecrates, without trembling or changing color or countenance, but, as his wont was, looking with protruded brow at the man), “Tell me,” said he, “about this beverage: is there any to spare for a libation, or is that not allowable?”

  And he replied:—

  “We prepare so much, Socrates, as we think to be needed for the potion.”

  “I understand,” said he; “but at least it is allowable and it is right to pray to the gods that our passage from hence to that place may be happy. This I pray, and so may it be”; and as he said this he put the cup to his lips and drank it off with the utmost serenity and sweetness.

  Up to this time the greater part of us were able to restrain our tears; but when we saw him drink the potion and take the cup from his lips, we could refrain no longer. For my part, in spite of myself, my tears flowed so abundantly that I drew my mantle over my head and wept to myself, not grieving for Socrates, but for my own loss of such a friend.

  And Crito had risen up and gone away already, being unable to restrain his tears. Apollodorus, even before this, had been constantly weeping, and now burst into a passion of grief, wailing and sobbing, so that every one was moved to tears except Socrates himself. And he said:—

  “O my friends, what are you doing? On this account mainly I sent the women away, that they might not behave so unwisely; for I have heard that we ought to die with good words in our ears. Be silent, then, and be brave.”

  And we at hearing this were ashamed, and refrained ourselves from weeping. And he, walking about, when he said his legs felt heavy, lay down on his back; for so the man directed. And the man who gave him the poison came near him, and after a time examined his feet and legs, and, squeezing his foot strongly, asked him if he felt anything; and he said he did not. And then he felt his legs, and so upward, and showed us that they were cold and stiff. And, feeling them himself, he said that when the cold reached his heart he would depart. And now the lower part of the body was already cold, and he, uncovering his face,—for he had covered it,—said the last words that he spoke.

  “Crito,” said he, “we owe a cock to Æsculapius: discharge it, and do not neglect it.”

  “It shall be done,” said Crito.

  To this he made no reply, but after a little time there was a movement in the body, and the man uncovered him, and his eyes were set. And hereupon Crito closed his mouth and his eyes. This was the end, Echecrates, of our friend—of all the men whom we have known, the best, the wisest, and the most just.