University of Virginia Library

Scene 5th

The Prison
Socrates
Today I am to die—What art thou, death?
Some say, a dread, a formidable tirant,
That mak'st mankind thy quarry, and devourst them,
Till they're no more than what they were, ere first
The great Eternal call'd them into being.
Thou art not so; and such I shall not find thee.
I've noblest prospects far; and to my soul
So mild thy aspect, that I'll call thee friend.
Thou'lt lead me, where at least my better part
Will meet with perfect virtue, certain knowledge,
With all th'improvements that she sought in vain
In this low scene.—Her state is sure progressive,
She still went on each day acquiring something,
Yet still dissatisfied, met not completion,
And wanted something farther still to be.
Nay more; her innocence, her constant bent
To sweet philanthropy, to doing good,
Was given by that dread power for noblest ends.
Are those ends answer'd? No. I feel, I am not
Contented with the little I have done,
And wou'd do farther—but I must not here;
My judges have forbad me—Therefore, therefore,
I go from hence to where no vile incumbrance,
No base abuse of power, no impious malice
Will hinder me from doing all I can:
Where I shall still be virtuous; nay be all
What wisdom tells me, I have not been yet;
And feel each ardent faculty within me
Fully employ'd, and blest in it's attainments.