may be some one who is
offended at me, when he calls to mind how he himself on a similar, or
even a less serious occasion, prayed and entreated the judges with many
tears, and how he produced his children in court, which was a moving
spectacle, together with a host of relations and friends; whereas I,
who am probably in danger of my life, will do none of these things. The
contrast may occur to his mind, and he may be set against me, and vote
in anger because he is displeased at me on this account. Now if there
be such a person among you,--mind, I do not say that there is,--to him I
may fairly reply: 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 almost a
man, and two others who 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-assertion or want of respect for you. Whether I am or am
not afraid of death is another question, of which I will not now speak.
But, having regard to public opinion, I feel that such conduct would be
discreditable to myself, and to you, and to the whole state. One who
has reached my years, and who has a name for wisdom, ought not to demean
himself. Whether this opinion of me be deserved or not, 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 such are a dishonour to the state, and that any stranger coming in
would have said of them that the most eminent men of Athens, to whom the
Athenians themselves give honour and command, are no better than women.
And I say that these things ought not to be done by those of us who have
a reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to permit them; you
ought rather to show that you are far more disposed to condemn the man
who gets up a doleful scene and makes the city ridiculous, than him who
holds his peace.

But, setting aside the question of public opinion, there seems to be
something