University of Virginia Library

Scene 4th

Socrates, Plato, Phedon, Crito
Socrates
Strong is the virulence of female passion;
Poor woman! how her boistrous temper sways her!
And yet she loves me with sincere affection
'Mid all this tirant-madness that deforms her—
But tis beneath philosophy, to heed
A woman's idle rage.

Plato
O Socrates
Greatly she's worthy of your kind regard;
Her soul's bewilder'd in the killing fears
Of your approaching danger; and she knows not,
By nature violent, in her distress
To moderate her anguish.

Socrates
Therefore be she
No more the subject of our thoughts at present:
For you, for her, and for the tender pledges
Of our most holy loves, I will do all,
I will bear all the humane heart can bear.
But there's one rule I must constant follow;
The rule my soul imposes on herself:
I have already said, I can't transgress it.
Great are the transport of an honest conscience,
E'en in the severest trials! he that knows
That he means well; and by that inward law
Hath modell'd all his actions, stands secure,
Tho' all around is waste and desolation.
Tis this compels me to my present conduct:
Think not, tis vanity directs my heart;
I know too well our nature, to be vain.
I will be Socrates, will be the man
I've ever taught mankind; and if my foes
Prevail, and I'm unjustly doom'd to suffer,
I'll die as I have liv'd,—I will die Socrates.