suffer that which Melitus awards me, of which I say I know not whether
it he good or evil? Instead of this, shall I choose what I well know to
be evil, and award that? Shall I choose imprisonment? And why should I
live in prison, a slave to the established magistracy, the Eleven? Shall
I choose a fine, and to be imprisoned until I have paid it? But this is
the same as that which I just now mentioned, for I have not money to pay
it. Shall I, then, award myself exile? For perhaps you would consent to
this award. I should indeed be very fond of life, O Athenians! if I were
so devoid of reason as not to be able to reflect that you, who are my
fellow-citizens, have been unable to endure my manner of life and
discourses, but they have become so burdensome and odious to you that
you now seek to be rid of them: others, however, will easily bear them.
Far from it, O Athenians! A fine life it would be for me at my age to go
out wandering, and driven from city to city, and so to live. For I well
know that, wherever I may go, the youth will listen to me when I speak,
as they do here. And if I repulse them, they will themselves drive me
out, persuading the elders; and if I do not repulse them, their fathers
and kindred will banish me on their account.

28. Perhaps, however, some one will say, Can you not, Socrates, when you
have gone from us, live a silent and quiet life? This is the most
difficult thing of all to persuade some of you. For if I say that that
would be to disobey the deity, and that, therefore, it is impossible for
me to live quietly, you would not believe me, thinking I spoke
ironically. If, on the other hand, I say that this is the greatest good
to man, to discourse daily on virtue, and other things which you have
heard me discussing, examining both myself and others, but that a life
without investigation is not worth living for, still less would you
believe me if I said this. Such, however, is the case, as I affirm, O
Athenians! though it is not easy to persuade you. And at the same time I