I think that he is, said Simmias.

  Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy, will be
willing to die, though he will not take his own life, for that is held
not to be right.

  Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the couch on to
the ground, and during the rest of the conversation he remained
sitting.

  Why do you say, inquired Cebes, that a man ought not to take his own
life, but that the philosopher will be ready to follow the dying?

  Socrates replied: And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who are
acquainted with Philolaus, never heard him speak of this?

  I never understood him, Socrates.

  My words, too, are only an echo; but I am very willing to say what I
have heard: and indeed, as I am going to another place, I ought to
be thinking and talking of the nature of the pilgrimage which I am
about to make. What can I do better in the interval between this and
the setting of the sun?

  Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held not to be right? as I
have certainly heard Philolaus affirm when he was staying with us at
Thebes: and there are others who say the same, although none of them
has ever made me understand him.

  But do your best, replied Socrates, and the day may come when you
will understand. I suppose that you wonder why, as most things which
are evil may be accidentally good, this is to be the only exception
(for may not death, too, be better than life in some cases?), and why,
when a man is better dead, he is not permitted to be his own
benefactor, but must wait for the hand of another.

  By Jupiter! yes, indeed, said Cebes, laughing, and speaking in his
native Doric.

  I admit the appearance of inconsistency, replied Socrates, but there
may not be any real inconsistency after all in this. There is a
doctrine uttered in secret that man is a prisoner who has no right
to open the door of his prison and run away; this is a great mystery
which I do not quite understand. Yet I, too, believe that the gods are
our guardians, and that we are a possession of theirs. Do you not
agree?

  Yes, I agree to that, said Cebes.

  And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for example
took the liberty of putting himself out of the way when you had
given no intimation of your wish that he should die, would you not
be angry with him, and would you not punish him if you could?

  Certainly, replied Cebes.

  Then there may be reason in saying that a man should wait, and not
take his own life until God summons him, as he is now summoning me.

  Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there is surely reason in that. And yet
how can you reconcile this seemingly true belief that God is our
guardian and we his possessions, with that willingness to die which we
were attributing to the philosopher? That the wisest of men should
be willing to leave this service in which they are ruled by the gods
who are the best of rulers is not reasonable, for surely no wise man
thinks that when set at liberty he can take better care of himself
than the gods take of him. A fool may perhaps think this-he may
argue that he had better run away from his master, not considering
that his duty is to remain to the end, and not to run away from the
good, and that there is no sense in his running away. But the wise man
will want to be ever with him who is better than himself. Now this,
Socrates, is the reverse of what was just now said; for upon this view
the wise man should sorrow and the fool rejoice at passing out of
life.

  The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates. Here, said he,
turning to us, is a man who is always inquiring, and is not to be
convinced all in a moment, nor by every argument.

  And in this case, added Simmias, his objection does appear to me
to have some force. For what can be the meaning of a truly wise man
wanting to fly away and lightly leave a master who is better than
himself? And I rather imagine that Cebes is referring to you; he
thinks that you are too ready to leave us, and too ready to leave
the gods who, as you acknowledge, are our good rulers.

  Yes, replied Socrates; there is reason in that. And this
indictment you think that I ought to answer as if I were in court?

  That is what we should like, said Simmias.

  Then I must try to make a better impression upon you than I did when
defending myself before the judges. For I am quite ready to
acknowledge, Simmias and Cebes, that I ought to be grieved at death,
if I were not persuaded that I am going to other gods who are wise and
good (of this I am as certain as I can be of anything of the sort) and
to men departed (though I am not so certain of this), who are better
than those whom I leave behind; and therefore I do not grieve as I
might have done, for I have good hope that there is yet something