apology   

displeased at this. Now if there be such a person among you, which I
am far from affirming, I may fairly reply to him: My friend, I am a
man, and like other men, a creature of flesh and blood, and not of
wood or stone, as Homer says; and I have a family, yes, and sons. O
Athenians, three in number, one of whom is growing up, and the two
others are still young; and yet I will not bring any of them hither in
order to petition you for an acquittal. And why not? Not from any
self-will or disregard of you. Whether I am or am not afraid of death
is another question, of which I will not now speak. But my reason
simply is that I feel such conduct to be discreditable to myself, and
you, and the whole state. One who has reached my years, and who has a
name for wisdom, whether deserved or not, ought not to debase himself.
At any rate, the world has decided that Socrates is in some way
superior to other men. And if those among you who are said to be
superior in wisdom and courage, and any other virtue, demean
themselves in this way, how shameful is their conduct! I have seen men
of reputation, when they have been condemned, behaving in the
strangest manner: they seemed to fancy that they were going to suffer
something dreadful if they died, and that they could be immortal if
you only allowed them to live; and I think that they were a dishonor
to the state, and that any stranger coming in would say of them that
the most eminent men of Athens, to whom the Athenians themselves give
honor and command, are no better than women. And I say that these
things ought not to be done by those of us who are of reputation; and
if they are done, you ought not to permit them; you ought rather to
show that you are more inclined to condemn, not the man who is quiet,
but the man who gets up a doleful scene, and makes the city
ridiculous.
But, setting aside the question of dishonor, there seems to be
something wrong in petitioning a judge, and thus procuring an
acquittal instead of informing and convincing him. For his duty is,
not to make a present of justice, but to give judgment; and he has
sworn that he will judge according to the laws, and not according to
his own good pleasure; and neither he nor we should get into the habit
of perjuring ourselves - there can be no piety in that. Do not then
require me to do what I consider dishonorable and impious and wrong,
especially now, when I am being tried for impiety on the indictment of
Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, by force of persuasion and entreaty,
I could overpower your oaths, then I should be teaching you to believe
that there are no gods, and convict myself, in my own defence, of not
believing in them. But that is not the case; for I do believe that
there are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in which any of my
accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I commit my cause, to
be determined by you as is best for you and me.
The jury finds Socrates guilty.
Socrates' Proposal for his Sentence
There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the
vote of condemnation. I expected it, and am only surprised that the
votes are so nearly equal; for I had thought that the majority against
me would have been far larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to
the other side, I should have been acquitted. And I may say that I
have escaped Meletus. And I may say more; for without the assistance
of Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had a fifth part of the votes,
as the law requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of a
thousand drachmae, as is evident.
And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on
my part, O men of Athens? Clearly that which is my due. And what is
that which I ought to pay or to receive? What shall be done to the man
who has never had the wit to be idle during his whole life; but has
been careless of what the many care about - wealth, and family
interests, and military offices, and speaking in the assembly, and
magistracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was really too
honest a man to follow in this way and live, I did not go where I
could do no good to you or to myself; but where I could do the