This is about all that he has to say. He will not entreat the judges to
spare his life; neither will he present a spectacle of weeping children,
although he, too, is not made of 'rock or oak.' Some of the judges
themselves may have complied with this practice on similar occasions, and
he trusts that they will not be angry with him for not following their
example. But he feels that such conduct brings discredit on the name of
Athens: he feels too, that the judge has sworn not to give away justice;
and he cannot be guilty of the impiety of asking the judge to break his
oath, when he is himself being tried for impiety.

As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And now the tone
of the speech, instead of being more conciliatory, becomes more lofty and
commanding. Anytus proposes death as the penalty: and what counter-
proposition shall he make? He, the benefactor of the Athenian people,
whose whole life has been spent in doing them good, should at least have
the Olympic victor's reward of maintenance in the Prytaneum. Or why should
he propose any counter-penalty when he does not know whether death, which
Anytus proposes, is a good or an evil? And he is certain that imprisonment
is an evil, exile is an evil. Loss of money might be an evil, but then he
has none to give; perhaps he can make up a mina. Let that be the penalty,
or, if his friends wish, thirty minae; for which they will be excellent
securities.

(He is condemned to death.)

He is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain nothing but disgrace
by depriving him of a few years of life. Perhaps he could have escaped, if
he had chosen to throw down his arms and entreat for his life. But he does
not at all repent of the manner of his defence; he would rather die in his
own fashion than live in theirs. For the penalty of unrighteousness is