was as good as could be, and now see
how generously he sorrows for me. But we must do as he says, Crito;
let the cup be brought if the poison is prepared; if not, let the
attendant prepare some."

"Yet," said Crito, "the sun is still upon the hilltops, and I know
that many a one has taken the draft late; and after the announcement
had been made to him, he has eaten and drunk, and enjoyed the society
of his beloved; do not hasten then; there is still time."

Socrates said: "Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak are right in
doing thus, for they think that they will gain by the delay; but I am
right in not doing thus, for I do not think that I should gain
anything by drinking the poison a little later; I should be sparing
and saving a life which is already gone; I could only laugh at myself
for this. Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me."

Crito made a sign to the servant, who was standing by; and he went
out, and after being absent for some time returned with the jailer
carrying the cup of poison. Socrates said: "You, my good friend, who
are experienced in these matters, shall give me the directions how I
am to proceed." The man answered: "You have only to walk about until
your legs are heavy, and then to lie down, and the poison will act."
At the same time he handed the cup to Socrates, who in the easiest and
gentlest manner, without the least fear or change of color or feature,
looking at the man with all his eyes, Echecrates,[73] as his manner
was, took the cup and said: "What do you say about making a libation
out of this cup to any god? May I or not?" The man answered: "We only
prepare, Socrates, just so much as we deem enough." "I understand,"
he said; "yet I may and must ask the gods to prosper my journey from
this to that other world--even so--and so be it according to my
prayer." Then holding the cup to his lips, quite readily and
cheerfully he drank off the poison. And hitherto most of us had been
able to control our sorrow; but now when we saw him drinking, and saw
too that he had finished the draft, we could no longer forbear, and in
spite of myself my own tears were flowing fast; so that I covered my
face and wept over myself, for certainly I was not weeping over him,
but at the thought of my own calamity in having lost such a friend.
Nor was I the first, for Crito, when he found himself unable to
restrain his tears, had got up and moved away, and I followed; and at
that moment, Apollodorus,