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UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
SI:QURHIS.PENINSUPAMAMONA
1837
ARTES
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THE GIFT OF
Charlotte F. Brewer
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P L A T O his
APOLOGY of SOCRATES
AND
PHÆDO or Dialogue concerning the
Immortality of Mans Soul,
A N D
Manner of SOCRATES his Death
Carefully tranſlated fiom the Greek,
Α Ν D
illuſtrated by Reflections upon both the
Athenian Laws, and ancient Rites and
Traditions concerning the Soul, therein
mentioned.
Quintilianus inſtitut. Orator. lib. 1Ở cap: 5.
Vertere Græca in Latinum veteres noftri Oratores oja
timum judicabant. Id ſe L. Craſſus in illis Cice-
ronis de Oratore libris dicit faciitaſſeId Cicero
fuà ipfe perfona frequentiſime précipit : quin etiam
libros Platonis [Timæum nempe, quem infcripfit
de Üniverſitate ] atq; Xenophontis edidit học
genere tranſlatos:
LONDON,
Printed by I. R. &N. 1. for fames Magne, and
Richard Bentley at the Post-Office in Rußelcareet
in Cóvent-Garden, 1675.
NA
Item Seleoted
For Retention
By MDP-2008

TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE
the EARL of
4 G L E S E 7,
Lord Privy Seal, Quc.
120 los
and are not
T
3. k
bord
My LORD, armistics
HE Manuſcript now herewith
delivered to your Servant,
had two days ſince been brought to
Your Lordfhip, had I not ſo long
diſputed with my ſelf, Whether it
were more decent for me to ſend it
ſingle
377738
A 3

The Epiſtle
finglé, or to give it an Epiſtle for a
companion. Nor was ic lo eaſie a
matter for me to determin this my
doubt ; the contrary reaſons that
offered themſelves to my perpenſion,
feeming to me to be of equal weight
When, on one ſide, I conſidered
how immenſe a niultiplicity of af-
fairs, and thoſe of great importance
too, come hourly crowding into your
thoughts, expecting from you to be
at once both judged and diſpatched
with higheſt Prudence; and how few
minutes you have to ſpare from cares
of State : 1 was inclined to conclude,
that the peruſal of the Book alone,
without the importunity of a Letter,
might too much interrupt your re-
poſe, and the public felicity. To
this was added, that neither Socrates
nor Plato could need Letters of re-
commendation to a man fo well acb
quainted with the Heroic Virtues of
c
the

Dedicatory.
the one, and the Divine Do&trin. of
the other. Nay I thought it a kind
of Sacrilege againſt their Merits, as
well as againſt your Judgement, but
to imagine, that any thing I could
write to introduce them, might:in-
creaſe your eſteem of them. od 9001
When, on the other, I remem-
ber'd that the Book contains, nor an
Original, but a copy; not the intire
Images of thoſe two ſo juſtly re-
nowned Philoſophers, but only two
felect pieces of them, namely the up-
right and invincible Heart of the one,
and the perſpicacious Eye of the
other (I mean the Defenſe of Socra.
tes, and the diſcourfe of the Immor-
tality of Mans Soul) and that Iowed
Your Lordſhip, nocronly the free uſe
thereof, but alſo an accompt of the
reafons I had to allege in excule ( 1
muſt not ſay, juſtification) iof the
little art ſhewn by me in the Tran-
feripr
A 4

The Epiftle
ſcript : remembring this, I ſay, I
could not but think it convenient,
to draw a few lines more, in order
to your ſatisfaction concerning that
particular. Beſides this, gratefully
re-calling to mind, that you had
long before honour'd me, not only
with licence, but with expreſs Come-
mand alſo, to write to you, and thaç
frequently too, eſpecialy concerning
matters Philofophical ; and being of
opinion, that this Book contains one
of the nobleſt Diſquiſitions any
where to be found among the monu-
ments of even the Ancient Grecian
Philoſophers : I was apt to conceive
it to be more probable ( your ex-
traordinary Candør together conſidea
red) that my omiſſion to do it, upon
this inviting occaſion, might carry
the face of Diſobedience; than that
my doing it would be look'd upon
as importune or indecent.is
And

Dedicatory.
And this laſt reaſon, in weight
exceeding all the moments put into
the oppoſite Scale, at length turned
the balance of my ſuſpence; and
made me conclude, that certainly I
fhould leſs offend by a fault for
which I might plead the authority of
Your Lordſhips Command, than by
one that could not be otherwile
e ex-
cuſed, but by confeſing my diſtruſt
of your Benignity, and diffidence of
your Favour, wherein chiefly I eſteem
niy
felf to be happy. what weiter
Notwithſtanding this, I ſtill found
my ſelf obliged, ſo far at leaſt to
give ear to the former arguments that
would have diffuaded me from wri.
ting, as to relolve to make my faule
as little and venial as was poſſible,
by writing no more than ſhould feein
neceſſary to the defens of the Plain.
neſs, and familiar Style uſed by me,
in the verſion of theſe two ſo excel-
leot

The Epiftle
lent Diſcourfes of Plato into our
Language. For that ſeems chiefly
to require an Apology: the admira-
ble Wiſedom, great Vtility, and
charming ſweetneſs of the Diſcourſes
themſelves, being already perfectly
known to Your Lordſhip, and ac-
knowledged by univerſal conſent of
the Learned in all ages, ſince it be.
came a doubt, whether Athens were
more to be honoured for the birth of
Socrates, or to be branded with in-
famy and hatred for the cruel mur-
der of him. And as for the Occaſi-
on of my tranſlating them ; you
are ſo far from needing to be adver-
tiſed thereof, that you made it. my
Province: that is, from your juſt
admiration of the incorruptible
Juſtice of Socrates, expreſſed in
a Colloquy at your Table ( where
the Minds, no leſs than the bodies
of your Gueſts are always feaſted )
1

Dedicatory.
Ftook the firſt hint of the deſign,
and proceeded therein by your ap-
probation, which with me, is equi-
valent to an injunction on
Suffer me then, my Lord, briefly
to acquaint you, that if in this di-
verſion of my pen, I have not only
confined it, as ftri&ly as my weak
judgement would permit me to do it,
within the bounds of the Authors
fenſe ; but cauſed it alſo wherelo-
ever I could, to trace out his very
Expreſſions, and render them even
word for word : it was not that I
imagined that way to be either more
facil, or more elegant ; but becauſe
I judged it to be the more faithful,
and I had deſign’d, not a Paraphraſe,
but a Tranſlation. By comparing the
Latin verſion of Marfilius Ficinus
with that of Serranus, I had found
theſe two great men not ſeldom vari-
ous, ſomtimes dubious, and ſom-
times

The Epiſtle
times irreconciliable in their inter-
pretations : ſo that both could not
be in the right; and to me who bad
not been ſufficiently verſed in the
dialed and ſtyle of Plato, nor com-
petently skilled in the Criticiſms of
the Greek, it was extremely diffi,
cult to diſcern, which of the two
came neareſt to the true and genuine
ſenſe of the Author ; more eſpecialy
where it was probable they had fol-
lowed different Exemplars, and cer-
tain that even their beſt Editions of
Plato were not ſufficiently correct.
To extricate my ſelf from this per-
plexity,I was conſtrained to take this
courle. Where the Greek Text ap-
pear'd to me to be of it felf plain
and perſpicuous, I ſeldom conſulted
any other Oracle. Where the ſame
fecm'd obſcure by words of ambi-
guous ſignification, and uſed Meta-
pharicaly: firſt I ſought to let in
light

Dedicatory.
light upon the place, by opening the
caſements both of the antecedent and
ſubſequent Context; and if thereby
I could diſcern the mind of thoſe
words, I had recourſe to the Inter-
preters alſo, though merely for con-
firmation. Where I found my felf
intangled both in the abſtruſeneſs of
the Text, and in the diſcrepancy of
its interpretations; I chose to adhere
to the more conſentaneous , which
moſt frequently was that of Serra-
nus' ; and where the interpretations
were not only different, but inca-
pable of conſiſtency and reconci-
liation there I was forced to grope
out my way by probable Conje&ture,
as being deſtitute of other help.
Here to expatiate into a particular
Catalogue of theſe Difficulties, and
adfer inſtances of each ſort of them ;
is neither to my preſent ſcope necef-
fary, nor conſiſtent with the module
of

The Epiftle
of an Epiftle: and after this gene-
ral accompt, it ſeems more decent
for me to render a reaſon, wlay I fo
far mentioned them. Be pleaſed
therefore to know, that I have done
it, not to derogate from the glory
and authority of thoſe two fo de
ſervedly celebrated names of Ficinus
and Serranus, from whoſe immortal
Works I hold my ſelf ſcarcely wor-
thy to wipe the duſt, and without
whoſe conduct and inanuduction I
could not have been able to proceed
without ſtumbling at almoſt every
ſtep : but only to make your Won.
der the leſs, when you ſhall find me,
not only ſtumbling, but Erring allo
from the direct path of Plato's fen-
timents and intention ; which I fear
I have more than once done, o | For,
if ſuch men as they were, met ſome
times with Knots they could not un-
ty: what wonder is it, that I who
90
am

Dedicatory.
am ſo much their inferior both in
learning and judgement, ſhould be
often embroild in doubts I cannot
folve? if They who have ſhewn
themſelves both exquiſitely Critical
in the Greek of the Ancients, and
intimately converſant even in the
moſt myſterious notions, and pro-
found receſſes of the Platonic Pbilo-
Sophy, openly diffent from, and claſh
one with the other, about the genuin
ſenſe of many hundreds of places
therein occurring : how much of fa-
vour is due to this weak Eſſay of
one, who is neither good Grecian,
nor ſo much as a mean Platonist ? I
may therefore expect from Your
Lordſhip, rather reprhenſion for at-
tempting above my ſtrength, thân
blame for performing below, my
hopes. Now, my Lord, that I may
draw all the lines of this long Para-
graph to a point; this very Reaſon
here

The Epiſtle
here brought to excuſe my Deviati
ons ( if I be found guilty of any
fuch) from the ſenſe, may well
ferve alſo to juſtifie my ſtrict adheſi-
on to the Words of my Author,
wherefoever the vaſt diſparity be-
twixt the moft fignificant Idioms of
Plato's Greek, and thoſe of our Babel
of Languages, the Engliſh, would
permit. For, as a Novice in the
Art of Painting, though he come
fhort of the life, will yet more cer-
tainly repreſent the true dimenſions
of the thing he deligns to paint, and
the becoming Symmetry oof all its
pares ; if he tranſgreſs not the lines
drawn to his hand by a Maſter, to
circumſcribe the image, and confine
his pencilt to the due proportions
thereöf : ſo I being to copy the Sen.
timents of Another, believ'd I ſhould
be the leſs prone to err, by how much
the leſs I receded from the Marks he
had
1990

Dedicatory
had left of them: and hereupon I
reſolved to do my beſt devoir, firſt
to underſtand thoſe Marks diſtin@ly,
and then to repreſent their Significa-
tions faithfully : preferring plain imi-
tation to more artificial ornament.
Not that I had then forgot, there
are intruth certain Modes of ſpeak-
ing, and graceful Phraſes proper and
peculiar to every Language, ſo as to
be incapable of alienation or tradu-
&tion ; and certain Subjects alſo that
are, as by natural congruity, much
more agreeably and patheticaly ex-
preſs’d by one Tongue, than by any
other : and that therefore a Tranfla.
tor ought to be allowed competent
liberty to uſe ſuch words, phraſes
and figures of ſpeech, as he ſhall
judge moſt fit, as well to conſerve
the beauty and elegance of the origi-
nal conception, as to ſymbolize and
ſuit with the argument; and this left
his
a

The Epiſtle
his ſtyle become pedantique and flat,
and the Matter it ſelf be debaſed,
as the beſt Wines loſe their Spirit by
transfuſion from veffel to velel. But
that I well remembred, that an Emi-
nent Wit
, of Your Lordſhips a cquain-
tance, who had with ſeverity enough
declamed againſt verbal Tranſlaci.
ons, was yet at the ſame time lo in-
genuous, as to grant fome Books to
be of ſo great and univerſal impor-
tance, as that not only their Senſe,
but even their Words too ought to be
reputed Sacred : and that I con-
ceived theſe two pieces of Place,
more eſpecialy that of the Soul,
whereof the Speculations are for the
moſt part Metaphyſical or Theological,
deſerved to be of chat number.
Hereunto was conjoyned a Second
conſideration, viz. That by keep-
ing cloſe to the Words of the Text,
even in the Ornamental parts of the
Dil

Dedicatory.
Diſcours, I might not only the bet-
ter avoid the danger of either ener-
vating the Expreſions, or offering
ſuch violence to the Senſe of it, as
might make it appear racher mine
than my Authors; but alſo retain
ſome imprellions of the civil manner
and way uſed by thoſe Ancient Sages
in their frank Conferences, and im-
paſſionate Diſputations concerning
matters Philoſophical: a thing not
unworthy the ſerious notice of thoſe
who are ſtrangers to the Atticiſm and
admirable Civility of Plato ; and,
the Moroſity and obſtinacy of our
Modern Diſputants conſidered, to
all Exemplary. Theſe, my good
Lord, are the Reaſons that induced
me to labour to fhew my ſelf, in this
diverting Eſſay, rather fidum Met da
phraſten, than diſertum Paraphraften;
rather just than polite. And as for
the plainneſs of my Style ( if that
be
a

The Epiſtle
be a fault ) though it be the natural
conſequent of my fidelity ; yet I
have this further to plead in defenſe
thereof, that the gravity of the Sub-
je&t exacted it : for, as the Prince
of Roman Scoics moſt judiciouſly
obferves ( Epist. 40.) que veritati
operam dat oratio, incompoſiia debet
effe & fimplex.
Hitherto, my Lord, I have offen-
ded againſt your patience by forcing
you to hear my Apology: be pleas'd
now to let me expiate that offens,
by exerciſing the ſame a minute or
two longer, while I recall into your
memory ſome of thoſe many Heroic
Virtues of Socrates, whereof his grate-
! ful Diſciple, Plato, hath left to us
fuch , remarkable inſtances, both in
his Apology, and in the accurate nar-
ration of the manner and circumſtan-
çes of his Death.
This

Dedicatori
This poor Philoſopher, my Lord,
ſeems to be the man upon whom the
bounty of Heaven accumulated all
the various Gifts, it uſeth to diſtri-
bute but ſingly and with a ſparing
hand to other Mortals: and the leaſt
of his divine Endowments bath often
fufficed to render even private per-
fons illuſtrous, and Scepires them-
felves more auguft.
Had you beheld him in arms, with
his Sword reſcuing Xenophon, and
ſtanding alone confronting a victori-
ous ariny, when the Athenian forces
fled from the battell of Delinn:
you would have ſeen Wifedom recon-
ciled to W'arre, Judgement moving
hand in hand with Fury, and the
Rational faculty of the Soul concur-
ring in the ſame action with the Iraf-
cible; and thereupon concluded that
true Valour ariſes, nor from heat of
blood, ror from exceſs of Choler,
but
a 3

The Epiftle
9
but from ſtrength and reſolution of
Mind; and that a good Philoſopher
may make an excellent Captain. Had
you
feen him in another Expediti-
on, returning a Conquerour from
Potidæa, and transferring all the ho-
nours and rewards due to ſo fignal a
vi&ory, upon his beloved Alcibiades,
reſerving to himſelf no other place
in the Triumph but among the fol-
lowers of his Friend : You might
have ſworn, he had fought ſo brave-
ly rather for Conſcience, than for ei-
ther Glory or Spoyl; and that he
delired no greater name than that of
a good Patriot and ſincere Friend.
When you reflect upon his fearleſs
refuſal to execnte che Command he
had received from the ſupreme Coun-
cil of Athens, to fetch Leo Salami-
nius from Salamine, to be put to
death, according to the Sentence
given againſt him by the Ulurper Cri-
tias

Dedicatory.
tias and his Adherents : you will (I
preſume ) acknowledge, that he
fear’d nothing but to do ill, that he
diſdain'd to affert any power that
was not juſt that Athens it felf
might with more eaſe have been re-
moved to Sılamine, than he brought
to relinquiſh Right and Equity; and
that he was more ready to accompa-
ny the oppreſſed in their Sufferings
under Tyranny, than to be a ſharer
in the adminiftration of it. Had
fome Roman been a witneſs of this
virtuous obftinacy, he would have
cried out perhaps, that the Capitol it-
felf was not more immoveable than
the integrity of Socrates; and envi-
ed Greece the glory of ſo rare an Ex-
ample. What then would he have
ſaid, my Lord, had he been preſent
at the diſpute betwixt the ſame So-
crates and his moſt faithful Scholar
Crito, wherein he being with no weak
argu-
a
a 4

The Epiſtle
arguments urged, to evade the exê.
cution of that moſt unjuſt Sentence
lately paſs’d upon him, and deliver
himſelf from violent death by an
eſcape plotted and prepared to his
hand; nevertheleſs not only rejected
that affe&ionate advice, but by de.
monftration convinced the Author
of it, that the auctority of Law, and
Decrees of Courts of judicature,
are things in their ſanction ſo vene-
rable and ſacred, as to oblige men
to ſubmiſſion, even when they are
manifeſtly unjuft ; and brought him
at length to acquieſce in this con-
cluſion, nefas ſibi eſſe è carcere egredi,
injuffu Magiftratus, & contra legum
autoritatem ? Herein whether Socra-
tes were in the righe or not, let our
Civilians determin: 1, for my part,
verily believe, he thoughr he was ;
and this is moſt evident, that he could
never be either overcome by terrors,
or

Dedicatory.
or won by allurements, to recede fo
much as a hairs bredth from what he
had once defined to be juſt. This
very Monofyllable doubtleſs was his
whole Decalogue, equivalent to the
Laws of the twelve Tables among the
Romans, the baſis of his Religion,
the Centre of his Counſels, and rule
to his actions: nor can I be eaſily
perſuaded, that Aſtrea left to dwell
among men untill after his death. Of
his obedience to the Laws and conſti-
tutions of his City, he gave this fur-
ther teſtimony.; that when the Athe-
nian Republic, to repair their people
much exhauſted by warre and peſti-
lence, had made an Edi&t, that every
man of fit years ſhould be obliged to
eſpouſeone woman, as principal wife,
and have liberty to take another, for
procreation: he, notwithſtanding he
had his hands full of unquiet Xan-
tippe ( whoſe peeviſhneſs and moro-
fity

The Epiftle
fity was grown to be the daily exer,
ciſe of his patience at home, and his
reproch abroad ) yet in conformity
to the Edict, fear'd. not to receive
into his little houſe and narrow bed,
another Conſort alſo, one Myrto,
daughter of that Ariſtides furnamed
the Juft, but equaly poor with him-
ſelf. This certainly could not but
be fomwhat harſh and diſagreeable
to a man already entered into the
confines of old age, and underſtan-
ding the pleaſures of ferenity and re-
poſe : and yer I muſt not imagin it
to have been at all difficult to the
wifedom of our Socrates, whoſe
tranquillity appears to have been ele.
vated, like the head of mount Athos,
above the tempeſt of feminin conten-
tions, jealouſies and impertinences,
and his Mind incapable of pe turba-
tions. However, he pur not private
carés into the balance againſt a daty
to

Dedicatory.
to the Public ; but choſe to be a
good Citiſen, by inceeaſing Pofteri.
ty, though he were ſure thereby to
multiply his own domeſtic incom-
modities.
A&ting by this infallible principle
of Justice (which is, as Plato calls
it, mbylsor &zody, the greateſt of hu-
man goods, and Mother of all other
virtues ) and fully perſuaded of the
divinity and immortality of the Soul
( which is the fundament of all Re-
ligion ) and of future rewards and
puniſhments : the wonder is the leſs,
that this admirable man was able,
both to trample upon all the ſplen-
did and precious things of this mo-
mentany life, and to bid defiance to
all the terrible: for, fecure in his
own innocence, and confident of
happineſs to come ; 'twas lefs diffi.
cult to him either to contemn dan-
gers, or reſiſt temptations. Nay,
to

The Epiftle
to do him right, neither could this
Temperance, nor that Fortitude be at
all difficult to him, who by long uſe,
and continual pra&ice, had exalted
them from Virtues into Habits.
In the firſt, he appear'd to be ſo
perfect, that tho as a man he could
not but feel the motions and follici-
tations of Corporeal Appetites, yet
none of them dared to rebell againſt
the Soveraignty of Reaſon, by whoſe
power he alwaies both ruled and
bounded them: nor could even a
good Soul ſeparated from its body,
and delivered from all encumbrances
of Matter, have a&ted more ſedately,
or been leſs incommodated with
Paſſions. In a word, in his whole
life, he ſeem'd not only unconcern'd
in, but inſenſible of the vain appea-
rance of human things.
Being thus impenetrable to Cupi-
dities, it may be worth our labour to
en

Dedicatory.
enquire alſo, how ſtrong. he was
againſt Fear. That we may therefore
take the true hight of his Courage,
let us ( if it pleaſe Your Lordſhip)
obſerve his deportment at the bar, in
the priſon, and at his death.
At the Tribunal, we hear his Con-
Stancy no leſs than his Innocency tri-
umphing over the power and ma-
lice of his combined Accuſers : the
greatest hurt they can do to me,
faith he, is to think it poſible to hurt
me ; ſinée God takes care of Good
men, and they therefore can never be
violated by wicked men. To a friend
whiſpering in his ear, that his Judges
had before reſolved to doom him
to death : he anſwers ſoftly and with
a ſmile ( but ſuch a ſmile as re-
tain’d an aire of Gravity and Dig.
nity ) and bath not Nature paſſed the
Jame doom upon them ? Retiring af
ter his condemnation , Adieu my
friends,


The Epiſtle
friends, faith he, I am now going to
fuffer death, je to enjoy life : God
alone knows ; which of the two is
better.
In the Priſon, we find him de-
ſpoild of whatever Fortune could
take from him, his body covered with
raggs and loaden with chains, his
leggs galled and cramp'd with fet-
ters, his eyes entertain'd with no
obje&s but a wife and Infant weep-
ing : and yet for all this, we hear
no complaints, no lamentations, no
grones, no not ſo much as one figh
come from him ; but diſcourſes con-
folatory and divine. Good God,
how great is the power of Wiſe-
dom ! how invincible the courage
of a Soul armed with virtue! If
this mans condition be Happy (as
certainly it is ) how much are Mor-
tals generaly miſtaken in the notion
of Happineſs! Here we behold a
ſhew

Dedicatory.
ſhew of Miſery in extremity : but
realy there is no ſuch thing. For
if you look more intently upon So-
crates, you ſhall diſcern in him all
the ſigns of alacrity, all the chara-
eters of Joy. To ſee him ſo uncon-
cern'd, a man would think, he were
not a Sufferer, but a Comforter.
There is ( Your Lordſhip well
knows ) a fort of natural Authority
inherent in the very Perſons of ſome
men, reſulting perhaps from certain
characters of a great Mind, which
heroic virtue imprints upon their
countenance and this as it corrects
the imperfe&tions of nature, where
it meets with any; ſo doth it like-
wife adorn the nakedneſs of its owner
expoſed to the outrages of fortune,
illuminate his dungeon, and ſtrike
fear and reverence into the heart
of even Executioners ; as you may
remember it did into his, who came
to

The Epiſtle
to kill that noble Roman, Caius Ma-
rius. Now this indelible Character
of true Greatneſs, do I clearly per-
ceive in the face of our Hero's, with
its rayes enlightning the obſcurity of
his priſon, conſecrating his diſgraces,
chains and raggs, and rendring his
affli&tions holy and venerable. Nor
can his Executioner endure the flaſhes
of it, without aſtoniſhment, vene-
ration and tears : and you may
hear
him, after a little recollection of
himſelf, ſobbing forth this acknow-
ledgement. Farewell Socrates, ſaith
he, The moſt generous and beſt of Men
that ever came into this place. Which
words being imperfectly pronoun-
ced, he inſtantly retires ; and una-
ble to perform the duety of his
place, he ſends in another with the
poyſon. to
Which being preſented to Socra-
ies, behold with what calmneſs of
Spirit,

Dedicátory:
Spirit, what gravity of aſpect, and
how ſteady a hand he receives it, and
drinks, as if that draught were to ex
tinguiſh, not his life, but thirſt. Nor
did his Fortitude grow cold with his
blood, or fink with his vital powers ;
for even in the extreme agony of
death, in the laſt pulſe of his heart,
when the vital flame ceaſed to warm
him; then did the flame of his Cous
rage ſtill continue, and animated him
to breath forth words that ſignifie, his
diffolution was moſt grateful to him,
as a deliverance from the Sickneſs of
Mortality, and paſſage to immortal
Happineſs
. Which I am verily pera
fuaded, he now enjoys : his whole
life ſeeming to me, as Eraſmus (in
NAPOÀ LUMAG) ingenuouſly declared it
did to him, nothing but a great Ex-
ample of justice, temperance and patia
ence; ſo that if ever any among the
Ethnics came neer to the perfe&tion
of


The Epiſtle
of a Chriſtian life, it cannot be denied
but Socrates was the man. It is not
(I profefs) my cuſtom to addreſs
my praiers to any but God alone,
who (I am moſt certain) both hears,
and hath power to grant my petitions:
and yet I bluſh not to confeſs, that
whenever I read what Plato, Plutarch,
Diogenes Laertius, Eunapius Sardia-
nus among the Greeks, and Cicero
and Seneca among the Latins, have
written in commemoration of the ad-
mirable virtues of this righteous manz
I find my ſelf ſtrongly inclined to ex-
clame, o fancte Socrates ora pro nobis !
an ejaculation exprefly owned even
by Eraſmus himſelf, whom Your
Lordſhip well knows to have been
free enough from Superſtition: nor
raſhly to be condemned ; nam fortaffe
latius fe diffunditSpiritus Chriſii,quam
nos interpretamor; e multi funt in
confortio San&torum, qui non ſunt apud
nos in catalogo.
As

Dedicatory.
As the actions of our Socrates in the
theatre of life were a wonder of vir-
tue to even the beſt and wifeſt Philo.
ſophers, fo was his Exit truly glorious.
But how infinitely more glorious
ought we to eſteem it, if we aſſent to
the judgement of thoſe many pious &
learned men, who conceive him to
have died a Martyr of the Unity of
God? Whether he did ſo, or not; I
have neither place here, nor will to
diſpute. Leaving therefore that nice
queſtion to be decided by YourLord-
ſhip after you have revolved his Apo.
logie ; and in the mean time humbly
deprecating your diſpleaſure at my
prolixity: I ſhall add only toward the
excuſe of it, this brief remark; that
the very aſhes of things foveraignly ex-
cellent are for ever anguft and venerable.
I am, my good Lord,
Your Lordſhips
January 8.
infinitely obliged and equaly
1673
devote Servante

L. Annæi Seneca
de Socrate teftimonium.

exemplum defideratis, accipite Socratem,
perpefficium fenem, per omnia afpera ja-
#atum, invictum tamen e paupertate, quam
graviorem illi domeſtica onera faciebant; eo
Zaboribus, quos militares quoq; pertulit, eu
quibus ille domi exercitus, five uxorem ejus
pectes moribus feram, lingua petulantem; five
liberos indociles, du matri quam patri ſimi-
liores. Sic fere aut in bello fuit, aut in ty-
rannide, aut in libertate, bellis ac tyrannis fee-
viore. Viginti & feptem annis pugnatum eſt :
post finita arma, triginta tyrannis noxæ dedi-
ta eft civitas, ex quibus pleriq; inimici erant:
Noviſſima damnatio est, ſub graviſſimis ho-
minibus impleta. Obje&ta eft & religionum
violatio, a juventutis corruptela : quam im-
mittere in Deos, in patres, in remp. dictus eſt.
Post hæc carcer, & venenum. Hæc ufq; eo
animum Socratis non moverunt, ut ne vultum
quidem moverint. Illam mirabilem laudem,
& ſingularem, ufq; ad extremum ſervavit :
non hilariorem quiſquam, non trištiorem So-
cratem vidit : æqualis fuit in tanta inæqua-
litate fortune. Epiſtol. 104.
Marc.

Marc. Antoninus Imperator, ti Érs Exuvw,
lib. 7. Sect. 66.
Ex verſione Gatakeri noſtrat.
*
UNde
constat nobis Socratem clara fuiffe
reliquifq; præftantiore indole ? neq; enim
hoc fufficit
, quod mortem glorionlime oppete-
bat; aut quod cum Sophiſtis acutiffime dife-
rebat ; aut quod in frigore fummo patientiſſime
fub dio pernoctabat : aut quod Saliminium
illum fiſtere juffus, reſistere generodime ma-
lebat ; aut quod per compita
faftuofe incedebat
( quod tamen an verum fuerit, merito dubita-
veris ) verum illud confiderare oportet, quos
modo affectam animam habuerit Socrates ;
utrum hoc contentus agere poterat, quod in re-
bus humanis juftus, in divinis pius exiſteret,
nec malitie cujufquam fruſtra indignatus, nec
cujufquam inſcitiæ affentatus, nec ab univerſo
allisnatumz quicquam, aut tanquam peregri-
num quid excipiens, aut tanquam intoleran-
dura fuftinens, nec carunculæ affectionibus
mentem paffus coaffici. Im
Piusato)
02 soittivt store attes apliarpusavoinnad stovi
upbut kiinni titigius :thio'm380
A01.elat Star
Quin-

Quintiliani de Socratis Apologia
judicium,
Inſtitut. Orator. lib. XI. cap. I.
Vis neſcit nibil magis profuturum ad
abfolutionen Socrati fuiffe, quam fi
effet ufus illo judiciali genere defenfionis, du
oratione fummißa conciliaffet judicum ani-
mos ſibi, crimeng; ipfum folicite redarguiſſet ?
Verúm id eum minime decebat : ideoq; fic
egit, ut qui pænam fiam honoribus fummis
eſet estimaturus. Maluit enim vir Sapien-
tiſſimus, quod fupereffet ex vita, fibi perire,
quam quod præteriſet. Et quando ab homi-
nibus fui temporis parum intelligebatur, poſte-
rorum ſe judicijs refervavit ; brevi detrimen-
to jam ultima ſenectutis, ævum ſeculorum om-
nium conſecutus. Itags quamvis Lyſias, qui
tum in dicendo præftantiffimus habebatur, de-
fenfionem illi ſcriptam attuliffet, uti ea no-
Init : cum bonam quidem, fed parum fibi con-
venientem judicaßet.
Adver-

oy
Advertiſement
Of the Printer to the READER.
Ho it hath fo hapned, that the Errors of this impreſſion be
man may as eaſily correct as find: get becauſe the Book pera
baps may come into the hands of ſome wboſe underſtandeng is
not incapable to be retarded or ſeduced by even the ſmalieſ Pleu.
dographical rubs caſt in their way by the incurious Compofi-
tor; I therefore think it one part of my duty, so far to prevent
the offens, and aſſiſt the apprehenfior. of Readers of this fort,
as to intreat them, firſt to pardon the faults that fhall occur
to them in reading, and then to amend them (lo many at
leaſt, as I have in a balty review obſerved ) in this manner.
Page 12. line 23. read Prodicus Cers, p. 15. I. 23. f. home
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1. 10. r. affenting, p. $6.1.9. of the margin r. ÜToniuaolu,
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of his thoughts, p. 139. 1. 20. r. is it not clearly evinced, p.
191. 1. 3.8. que quoniam craſle sunt, p. 157. 1. 1. r, conjuna
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circum, p. 296. l. ule. r. Elpenor,
As for the more venial Errors conimitted in either
omiſſion or miſplacing of Interpunctions and orber
figns of Pauſes; having found them to be neither very
Tlumeros, nar mucb injurious to the Authors Senſe, I
leave them to the candid Corrediion of the competent
Reader.

I
SOCRATES
301 HIS
APOLOGY.
The ARGU M E N T
Out of SERRANOS.
S
OCRATES being accuſed of In-
piety by Melitus, Anitus, and Lycon,
before the People of Athens, by this
Oration defends his Cauſe : And he
fo pleads, that he not only evinceth
this their accuſation to be falſe and malitious;
but alſo clearly Sheweth, that on the contrary,
he deſerved well of the Republick, and was
therefore
B

2
The ARGUMENT.
therefore worthy not of puniſhment, but re-
ward. He moreover declares , that it was a
Duty divixely impoſed upon him, to reprove
and convince Men; more particularly ſuch,
who being puffed up with a vain Opinion of
their own Wiſdom, were highly conceited of
themſelves. The infe&tion of which ambitious
folly he affirms to be diffus'd amongſt Men of
all Orders : But that alone is true Wiſdom,
when men acknowledg their Ignorance, (that
is, as he in most proper words defines, that
Humane wiſdom is of ſmall value, or none at
ally) and firmly hold, that God alone is wife.
Hereupon he declares, that himſelf had been
judged by the Oracle wiſer than all other men,
for no other reaſon but this, that he differently
from the cuſtom of all others, had no esteem of
kimſelf, and thought he knew nothing certain-
ly, but that he knew nothing. Then he
makes the Author of that his office or Duty of
reprehending and informing Men, to be God:
by whoſe certain command he avows he did
whatſoever he had done in that kind. And
this Command of God he calls [ To ActuóVOV,
Thin DavÀY, TÒ Enquêtor, ] a Spiritual Intelligence,
a Voice, a Sign : By thoſe words, in way of
excellency, deſigning not any power of Hu-
man Wit, but a certain Divine and extra-
ordinary ſignification; and (as we common-
ly

The ARGUMENT.
3
Ly call it) Inſpiration, whereby he was ſecretly
admoniſhed, what he ought to do, and what
not. He calls it Dæmonium, a ſpiritual In-
telligence; Becauſe he conceived that Power
to come, not from Man, but from God : and
otherwiſe terms the ſame, Vocem & Signum,
in reſpect of that private admonition, which
he affirms hath been given to him by a perſpi-
cuous Voice, by manifest and true Dreams,
and by other ways of Intimation. Thus much
we briefly and plainly (according to what we
could collect from the words of Plato) obſerve
concerning the Dæmonium of Socrates; That
we might not be obliged to amuſe our felves
with the Myſterious Comments of various In-
terpreters. By the auſpice therefore, and ſug-
geftions of this his Divine Dictator, Socrates
avers, that even from his childhood he had
ordered and governed his whole life, and mad:
it his grand buſineſs to convince of Ignorance,
Men inflated with the ambitious confidence of
Science. From this contagious Fountain be
derives that torrent of hatred with which very
many of his Fellow-Citizens now fought to
overwhelm him; And from thence he deduces
his prefent accuſation. Nevertheleſs, he pro-
feſſes to be immovably fixed in this reſoluti-
on, always to obey the Counſel of God, nor ever
to leave any part of that his principal duty
unper-
В 2

4
The ARGUMENT.
unperformed, though it should be conjoyn'd
mith manifeſt danger of his life : The lofs
whereof he feared not, nor any thing elſe, ex-
cept this, left he ſhould be found not to have
conformed himſelf to the Dictamen of God.
Resting upon this reſolve, he denies that he
would by Prayers and Intreaties (as was the
manner of the Athenians) beg favour and para
don from his Judges : But commending the
ilue of his Cauſe to God, and to the will of his
Judges, would conſtantly perſevere in his own
determinate courſe. Therefore when it was left
to his own option, whether he would go into
exile, or die; he chofe rather to die : teſtify-
ing, that even in Death it ſelf he should not
fail of certain Felicity; being fully perſwaded
that God took care of him and his concern-
ments. This was the Condemnation of Socra-
tes; from whence Plato endeavours to demon-
ſtrate, that he was undeſervedly accuſed of in-
piety. Thus then Socrates ſuffered Death, for
that he refuted the falſe Doctrines of Men con-
cerning Religion: Though it be not to be doubt-
ed, but that he was ignorant of the true Reli-
gion taught by the facred word of God. Tet
among Ethnics there was this clear teſtimony
extant of an Ethnic Philoſopher, to take from
them all excuſe of Ignorance : Since beſides
that natural knowledge, which God hath en-
graven

The ARGUMENT.
5
graven upon the minds of all men, there ap-
peared in a mošt populous City, and the noblést
School of Learning, this eminent witneſs, en-
dowed with this peculiar Gift, that he would
rowz up men, ſleeping profoundly in vain opi-
nion of themſelves, and ſhew them their igno-
rance, wherein they were ſhamefully involved:
the knowledge of this matter alſo being at
length diffeminated not only through all
Greece, but through the whole world, by this
writing of Plato. This therefore is the Theme,
and this the Oeconomy or Method of this
Oration.
o THE
OR A TIO N.
wherein he weak-
H Н
manifold
Ow your minds,
His Exordium;
Athenians , are neth the credit of
affected and in- his Accuſers, by
clined by the charging them
harangue of my falſhoods.
Accuſers, I know not : but I my ſelf am ſo
ſenſibly touched with it, that I have almoſt
forgot my ſelf. So fitly and advantagioully
for the gaining of belief and perſwalion
have they ſpoken : tho (to comprehend all
B 3
in

6 SOCRATES his apology.
He renounces all
in one word ) they have ſpoken nothing
of truth. But among many falfhoods they
alleaged, I chiefly admire this one, that they
have admoniſhed you, diligently to beware
leſt you be ſeduced by me; as if I were
fingularly powerfull in the faculty of ſpeak-
ing: and that they have not bluſht to urge
that, wherein they will ſoon be found guil-
ty of palpable lying, when firſt I ſhall be
found unfit to ſpeak to you: this ſeems to
me the moſt impudent of all. Unleſs per-
haps their meaning be, that
eloquence but truth:
he is powerfull in the art of
to engage the bene- Speaking, who ſpeaks
truely.
volence and atten. For if this be their ſenſe, I
tion of the Judges.
profeſs my ſelf to be an O-
rator, but not according to their opinion.
But they ( as I ſaid ) have delivered no-
thing of truth ; from me on the contrary
you ſhall receive nothing of falſhood. And
yet I ſwear by Jove, you ſhall not from me
hear a formal Oration compoſed of the ele-
gances of words, and Ornaments of ſenten-
ces, (as theirs was,) but plain truths ex-
preſſed in unſtudied language and vulgar
phraſes. But the things I am going to ſpeak,
ī believe to be equitable and juſt : nor let
any among you expect other from me. For
it is not fit that I ſhould at theſe years, come
to

SOCRATES hís Apology 7.
to you, like a boy, with fiction and Ro-
mances.
a defence.
a
This one thing I earneſt megrellantes, or
ly beg and require of you, in he excufeth bisi
Pre-ocupation; where
that if you, () Athenians, plain and familiar
hear me making my defence way of pleading, by!
in the ſame way of ſpeech, fant in Forenfar con
and manner of reaſoning I
troverfies, and by
his cuſtom, which is
have uſed both in the Foo equivalent to Law :
rum,and at the Tables of the as alſo by this, that
a Judge ought to
Bankers, (in which, and o- confider, not the e-
ther places moſtof you have legancy, but truth of
ſeen me ) you neither won-
der thereat, nor raiſe a tumult thereupon.
For the truth of the matter is, this is the firſt
time I appear at your Tribunal, being now
more than 6o years of age:ſo that I may well
be a ſtranger in this way of pleading cauſes.
Allow me therefore the ſame favour as if I
really were a ſtranger; ſeeing I ſhall uſe
both the ſame words, and the ſame form of
ſpeech, wherein I have been educated. This
alſo I beg of you (and it ſeems moſt equi-.
table
you
ſhould grant it to me) that you
conſider not the manner of my pleading ,
whether it be rude or convenient : but di-
ligently examine, and with all poſſible at-
tention of mind perpend, whether the mat-
ter or ſubſtance of it be juſt or unjuſt. For
this
B 4 .

8
SOCRATES his apology.
>
this is the virtue of a Judge; as the virtue
of an Orator is, to deliver truths.
Firſt then, Oye Atheni-
The Partition of
his plea , according ans, I am obliged to anſwer
to the diverſity of to thoſe lyes, that are in
his accuſations.
the firſt place objected to
me; and ſo to my firſt Accuſers : then to
my laſt accuſations, and my laſt Adverſaries.
For many have accuſed me to you, and long
fince in the ſpace of many years; yet have
they never delivered a word of truth in all
their charges : and theſe indeed I more
fear, than I do Anitus and his fellows
though they likewiſe preſs me with the
weight of their enmity and malicious com-
bination. Yet the others truly are more
preſſing and more powerful,who have even
From your tender age, O mien, perſwaded
you, that the accuſations are true, which
they objected againſt me fallly; namely,
that there is one Socrates, a wiſe man for-
ſooth, and one who ſearcheth into the na-
ture of ſublime things, and enquireth into
all things (under the earth; who can by
his Sophiſtical way of ſpeaking, make abad
ſpeech paſs current with the hearers for a
good one. Theſe men, Athenians, ha
ving ſpread abroad this rumor concerning
me, theſe (I ſay) are vehement and preva-
lent

SOCRATES his apology. 9
lent accuſers. For they who give ear to
theſe ſcandals, preſently entertain a belief,
that ſuch perſons as they repreſent me to be,
converſant and curious in the ſtudy of Na-
tural Cauſes, hold that there are no Gods.
Beſides this, the number of my accuſers of
this ſort is great; and their accuſations are
of a long date, inſinuated and ingraffed in-
to your minds, in that age which is credu-
lous and eaſie to admit any perſwaſions ,
when moſt of you were boys, or rather lit-
tle children: ſo that they accuſed me be-
hind my back, and while I had no compur-
gator, no advocate to vindicate me; and
( what is extremely unjuſt, and unreaſona-
ble ) I was not permitted either to know,or
to produce the names of my accuſers. On-
ly there was a confuſed whiſper, a dark-
ſom muttering in the general, that it was
a certain Comical Poet, And they who by
envy and calumny traduce me to you, and
breed in your minds an odium againſt me;
have ſo ſtrongly poſſeſſed themſelves with
the crimes objected to me, that they draw
others alſo into the ſame perſwaſion : but
thoſe no where appear in the light. For
I can by no means obtain, that any one of
them ſhould be brought hither to confront
me, that I might have the liberty and op-
portunity

SOCRATES his Apology.
portunity to confute him : but am forced,
while I make my defence againſt them, and
endeavour to convince them of forgery
to combate as it were in the dark, no man
appearing in the Liſts to anſwer me. Know
this therefore, and conſider with yourſelves,
that I have two ſorts of accuſers : ſome who
have but even now accuſed me ; others a-
gain who have been long verſed in this
clandeſtine practiſe, of whom I ſpeak: and
think that I am obliged to make anſwer to
thoſe in the firſt place. Let it be fo then,
that I muſt form a defence for my ſelf, and
do my utmoſt devoir, in this ſhort time al-
lowed me, to remove and extirpate that ſi-
niſter opinion, which hath for a long time
remained deeply rooted in your minds to
my prejudice. This I would wiſh might
be effected, to your and my own benefit :
for in this my defence, I ſhould deſire to ef-
fect ſomewhat more. But that I conceive
to be weighty and difficult : nor am I ig-
norant what will be the event of my Trial.
Yet let the iſſue be ſuch, as may be grate-
full to God; I muſt obey the Law, and an-
fwer. Sd
Fetching then the firſt riſe of my wrongs
from their Original, let us ſee in good ear-
neſt what is that accuſation, from whence
this

SOCRATES his Apology:
II
this Indictment drawn againſt me, hath
proceeded; whereupon Melitus relying thus
chargeth me. Let it be ſo. What did my
adverſaries charge me with? for their [åv-
Toposia, i.e. ] their Libel of accuſation ra-
tified on both ſides by mutual oath, is to be
throughly read.
SOCRATES, Contrary
The State, and
to right and equity,doth more feveral beads of his
curiouſly investigate thoſe borimo 15
things that are under the Earth and in Hean
ven : and makes a bad ſpeech, by delivering
it, good : and teacheth others alſo the fame.
This forfooth is the Libel of the Action,
and form of the Indi&tment. The like unto
which you may ſee in a Comedy of Ariſto-
phanes, * where is brought * év večerocés19
in the perſon ofone Socra•
tes, who pretends to walk in the air, and
playes the Droll in a Farces He dicevoise th
of many other extravagan- ſublime fcience impud
ces. Wherein I am, "Athe- ted to him. J.
nians neither little nor much skilled. Which
I ſpeak not out of deſign to condemn that
Art, or any man converſant thereing that
I be not by Melitus involved in that crime,
and made to undergo his puniſhment. But
true it is, Athenians, I had never any con-
verſe with things of this kind; whereof i
an

12
SOCRATES his Apology.
am able to produce many witneſſes : and I
would intreat you, that you inform each o-
ther, and enquire among your ſelves, who
have ever heard me diſcourſing of any ſuch
matters; and there are many preſent, who
have frequently heard me in free and fami-
liar conferences. Declare therefore open-
ly, whether any of you have ever heard
me ſpeaking little or much of theſe things :
and from thence you ſhall underſtand, that
the like credit is due to other fictions that
very many ſcatter abroad concerning me.
But certainly of theſe nothing is true.
stod Enquire alſo, whether
And denieth that
he ever either ufur- you have heard from any
ped the Authority man, that I ever endeavou-
of a public Teacher, red to teach men, and exact
or exa&ed reward
for his private in mony: neither is this true.
ftru&tion of youth. . Foraſmuch as I ever held it
a thing highly meritorious and honorable
for a man to teach and inſtruct others in
Learning and Virtue, as Gorgias the Leon-
tine, and Prodicus Ceus, and Hippias the
Elean have done. For each of theſe are a-
ble, to what Cities foever they travel, to
perſwade young men, (and yet it was
lawfull for them frankly to converſe with
whomſoever they liked beſt of their own
Citizens,) that quitting the converfe of all
others,
T

SOCRATES his Apology. 13
others, they would intirely give up them-
ſelves to their inſtructions, and moreover
give them mony, in acknowledgment of the
benefit received from their diſcipline, and to
requite the favour. There is here preſent
alſo another certain man, a Parian,and wiſe,
whoſe reſidence in this City was grateful
to me. For I by chance lighted upon a cer-
tain perſon, who gave more mony to So-
phists, than all others; namely Gallias the
Son of Hipponichus; and of him I asked this
queſtion. Thou haſt two Sons, Gallias.
If thoſe thy two Sons were Calves or Colts,
doubtleſs we ſhould have ſome one ſet to be
their Tutor, and a reward given to him, to
teach them, each according to his parti-
cular Genius and capacity; (for he ſhould
be skilful in Horſmanſhip, or in Agricul-
ture) whereas now tho they be men, thou
yet takeſt no care to provide them a Tea-
cher and Governor. Who is there know-
ing and expert in this art of Humanity and
Civility? I ſuppoſe, that being a Father
of Sons, thou haſt conſidered of this matter.
Is there (faid I) any man fit for this charge,
or not? and for how much doth he teach?
Evenus ( anſwers he) the Parian, O Socra-
tes; and his demand is five Attic Minæ.
And I preſently commended Evenus, as a
happy

14
SOCRATES his Apology.
He derives the
of mankind.
happy man, if he were really endowed with
this moſt uſefull art, and taught ſo ſtudiouſly
and dextrouſly. Truely I ſhould glory,
and boaſt my ſelf
, were I knowing in theſe
things: but I profeſs my ſelf, Athenians, alto-
gether unacquainted with them. Here per-
haps ſome one of you may
popular hate oppret object ; but, Socrates, what
fing him, from his is the matter then, from
frequent reprehenfion whence theſe criminations
thought himſelf wi- have been produced againſt
jer than all the reſt thee? For unleſs thou didſt
often do ſomething very
remarkable, fingular and very different
from the cuſtom of others; ſo great a ru-
mor would not have flown abroad concer-
ning thee. For why ſhould this ignominy
have faln upon thee, if thou hadît done
nothing ſtrange and unvulgar? Tell there-
fore what it is, left we, not underſtanding
the matter, give a raſh judgement of thee.
Who urges this, may ſeem to have reaſon for
it. And I therefore will endeavour to lay
before you what it is, that hath procured to
me both a name and blame. Hear ye then,
and tho to ſome of you I may ſeem to jeſt
and droll; yet be moſt confident of this,
that I will declare to you the whole trutbr.
For I Athenians,have upon no other ground,
but

SOCRATES his apology. 15
but that of ſome certain Wiſdom, acquired
this name. But what Wiſedom ? that per-
haps, which is humane wiſedom. For with
that I ſeem really to be endowed. Theſe
perchance, whom I lately named, may be
enriched with ſome greater wiſedom than
that which is incident to man. To this I
can oppoſe nothing; for ſuch wiſdom I un-
derſtand not. But whoſoever faith this,
doth lie, and ſay it on purpoſe to raiſe an
odium againſt me by calumny. Nor be
ye Athenians diſcompoſed, if I ſhall ſeem
to declare to you ſomething that is great
and remarkable. For I will deliver nothing
from my ſelf, but refer to him who is above
all exception, who will himſelf communicate
the ſame things to you. For of my wiſdom,
if I have any, ſuch as it is,
I will give you for a wit- pra&ice of reprehen-
He juſtifies his
neſs that Delphic God. Che- ding others, by al-
rephon ye all well know. leging the expreſs
He was my familiar com- whom he ought to
panion even from the time obey.
when we were boys together; and alſo your
Countrey-man: who both fled, and return'd
with you : and you cannot but remember
of what humour and diſpoſition he was ;
Whehement, whatſoever he undertok.
And indeed when on a time he came to
Delphos,

16 SOCRATES his Spology.
Delphos, he had the boldneſs to conſult the
Oracle about this matter. Be not (I beſecch
you) Athenians, moved to a tumult by what
I ſhall ſpeak. He inquired of the God, if
there were any man wiſer than my ſelf:
and Pythia anſwered, none was wiſer. The
truth hereof, the Brother of that Cherephon
will atteſt: for he is dead. Now ſeriouſly
conſider, I pray, why I recount this to you.
For I am coming to explain the cauſe,
whence this calumny againſt me firſt aroſe.
When I had heard of Cherephons adventure,
I thus thought in my mind. What doth
the God ſay? or what doth he ſignifie by
theſe words? For I eſteem not my ſelf to be
wiſe neither little nor much. What then
can be his meaning, when he affirms
that I am the wiſeft of men? Lye he doth
not, for that is to a God impoſſible. And
long did I remain in doubt, profoundly con-
ſidering his words : then not without diffi-
culty I converted ny ſelf to a certain diſpo-
ſition of this kind. I came to one of thoſe
who ſeemed to be wiſe, in hope I might
here convince the ſaying of the Oracle,and
ſo commonſtrate that he, not I ( as the God
had ſaid ) was the wiſer. When therefore
I had together with him examined the mat-
ter, (I need not name the man: he is one
of

SOCRATES F
17
his apology.
Of thoſe who are imployed in Governing
the Common-wealth, and managing Affairs
of State ) when ( I ſay) I had conferred
with him, ſomewhat of the like nature, A-
thenians, hapned to me. He ſeemed to me
indeed to be accounted wiſe, both by o-
thers, and thoſe many, and by himſelf chief
ly; but was not really ſo. Then I endevou-
red to demonſtrate to him, that though he
thought himſelf wiſe, yet he was not ſo in
reality. Hereby I fell into the diſpleaſure
and ill-will of him,and of very many others
who were preſent : But retiring thence, I
thought with my ſelf, that I was wiſer than
that man, becauſe neither of us ſeemed to
know any thing Noble or Excellent: only
he (thought I to my fell believes he knows
ſomething, when he knows nothing; but 1,
as I know nothing, ſo I think I know no-
thing. Hercin therefore I took my ſelf to
be a little wiſer of the two: in that I decei-
ved not my ſelf with an Opinion that i
knew that, whereof really I was ignorant.
After this I addreſſed to another, who ſeem-
ed yet wiſer than the firſt: but found no
difference betwixt them, as to wiſdomn.
Whereupon I incurred his hatred alſo, and
that of many of his Admirers. Then I went
likewiſe to others; being ſenſible of my ill
ſucceſs

18 SOCRATES his apology.
ſucceſs, and grieved ſufficiently therewith,
as much fearing leſt I might ſtir up hatred
and envy againſt my ſelf : Nevertheleſs I
conceived my ſelf under an abſolute necef-
ſity of highly valuing the voice of God, and
turning my ſelf to all parts, by going to all
thoſe who thought they knew ſomething,
that in the end I might explore the true
ſenſe of the Oracle. But
xj vì xure i per I Swear to you Athenians,
fiarr; An Oath uſed ( for I muſt declare the
by fome Grecians, Truth) that while I perſu-
even Philoſophers: a my ſcrutiny according
ved from the old g. to the voice of God, I met
gyptians
among with the like Fortune; diſ-
whom the Dogg-
ftas, the brighteſt of covering, that ſuch who at-
all fixed ſtars tasa- tained to the greateſt name
dored as a Divine
Numen , as well be- and glory, ſeemed to come
cauſe the Exunda. vaſtly ſhort of wiſdom: bui
bigan at the rifing others, accounted inferior
of that star, as be to them, were more diſpo-
cauſe they believed fed to, and better qualified
their is to have
been fiellified into for the acquiſition of it.
Asporúdy, this Ce- 'Tis fit and pertinent, that I
ſhew you my Errors, what
great pains I took, to render the Faith and
Authority of the Oracle Sacred and indubi-
tate with me./ After theſe States-men and
Grandees, I addreſſed my felfto Poets, and
leftial Dogs
Wri-

SOCRATES his Spology. 19
Writers of Tragedies and Dithyrambies and
others of the ſame Tribe: as ifhere i ſhould
perſpicuouſly, and by Surpriſe (as they ſay)
diſcover , that I was more unskilful, more
ignorant than they. Taking therefore
their Poems into my hands, and noting
thoſe things they feemed to have written
with greater ſubtilty, and higher ſtrains of
Wit; I diligently asked them, what they
could ſay, that I might at the ſame time
learn ſomething from them ? i bluſh to tell
you the truth, Athenians: but do it I muſt,
though very briefly: all that were preſent
almoſt ſpake more favourably of thoſe po-
ems, than they who had made them. So I
ſoon found concerning Poets, that they per-
form what they do , not by the power of
Wiſdom, but by a certain impetus of Na-
ture, and fury of Divine incitement; as
Prophets fore-tell things by Divine inſtinct
orEnthuſiaſm,propheſying many Noble and
Notable things, but not underſtanding ſo
much as one word of what they deliver.
With the fame affection Poets appeared to
me to be inſpired and incited: and 1 diſco-
vered likewiſe,that they, upon the account
of their faculty in Poetry, think themſelves
the wifeſt of all men, even in other things ;
whereof notwithſtanding they are utterly
igno-
C 2

20
SOCRATES his apology.
ignorant. From theſe therefore I depar-
ted, as from the former, and with the ſame
reaſon too: thinking myſelf to excel, as the
Politicians, ſo likewiſe the Poets. At length
I betook my ſelf to Artificers of Mechanic
Works : conſcious to myſelf, that in thoſe I
knew nothing at all, (1 comprehend all in
a word) and well underſtanding, that I
ſhould find thoſe plain People to have
knowledge of many and excellent things.
Nor did my opinion deceive me, for they
knew things that I underſtood not, and
were ſo far wiſer than 1. Yet even the moſt
eminent Artificers ſeemed involved in the
very ſame Fault with the Poets; in that they
alſo, becauſe they had ſhewn themſelves
great Maſters in their Mechanics, would em
very one be accounted moft skilful alſo in
other even the greateſt matters ; and this
Fault of theirs wholly darkens the lights of
their skill. Wherefore I interrogated my
ſelf alſo about the ſenſe of the Oracle, whe-
ther I had rather be as I was; neither wiſe
with their wiſdom, nor unskilful with their
unskilfulneſs: or be, as they are,compara-
ted or diſpoſed both wayes; and I anſwe-
red my ſelf and the Oracle,that it was more
commodious and profitable to me, to be as
I am. From this Diſquiſition , Athenians,
many

SOCRATES his Apology
21
many offences, and thoſe moſt difficult too,
and grievous, have come againſt me; and
thence as many imputations, ſcandals , and
criminations and calumnies : and ſo it came
to paſs, that I was named the wiſe man.
For they who are in my company, daily
ſuppoſe me to be ſingularly knowing in
thoſe matters, wherein I reprehend and e-
vince other mens errors.
But it ſeems, Athenians, that His Explanation of
God alone is wiſe: and the cle.
ſenſe of the Oracle this, that Humane
wiſdom is to be very little or nothing eſteemed,
And the Oracle expreſly nominated Socra-
tes for no'other reaſon but this, that by miſ-
uſing my name, it might propoſe me as an
example : as if it would ſay, this man, O
Mortals, is the wiſeſt of ye all, who, as
Socrates, well krows, that as to wiſdom, he
is not to be valued at all. Being then of
this temper of mind , Ito this very day en-
quire ſtrictly every where, and according
to the words of that Divine Oracle, feek
both
among my Fellow-Citizens, and Stran
gers; if I can find a man worthy to be repu-
ted wiſe: but when I diſcern any not to be
really wiſe , truly out of Conformity to
God, I clearly demonſtrate him to be not
wife. And being wholly Devoted to this
C3
good

22
SOCRATES his apology.
good Work, I have no leiſure allowed me,
neither to Tranſact any public affair of mo-
nient, nor to regulate my own Domeſtic
concerns; but am caſt into the ſtreights of
profound poverty, by reaſon of that my o
bedience to God. Beſides
Another cauſe of the this, ſome Youths born of
upon him, vit. that moſt Wealthy Families and
many Noble youths having leiſure enough, fol-
his convincing dif
. lowing me of their own
courſes, and imitated Free-will, are highly de-
him in reproving lighted when they hear
Offence thereat, reg men reproved and convie
Alected upon him,as ēted by me; and they alſo,
the corruptor of
in imitation of me, do them-
ſelves often endeavour to
refute others : nor is it to be doubted, but
they find a very great multitude of ſuch,
who believe themſelves to underſtand and
know many things, when yet in truth they
know few or none at all. Hereupon theſe
who are refuted , grow angry, not with
them, but me: and ſày, there is one Socra-
tes , a man of moſt impure and dangerous
manners, who corrupteth young men : and
if any ask them, whether it be by teach-
ing or doing any thing unjuſtifiable, that I
corrupt youth; they can alledg nothing in
particular, becauſe indeed they know not
wherein
Youth.

SOCRATES his apology 23
me
wherein to inſtance: nevertheleſs that they
may not ſeem to be at a loſs, they charge
with thoſe imputations that are laid up-
on almoſt all Philoſophers, and in every
mans mouth, that forſooth I am exceſſively
qurious in fearching into the nature of things
both ſublime and under the earth, that I think
there are no Gods, and that I can by my So-
phiſtical arguments turn an ill Speech into a
good one. They will not (I believe ) de-
clare the Truth, becauſe they manifeſtly ap-
pear to pretend to know things, whereof
notwithſtanding they are altogether igno-
rant. For they who traduce me, being
men ambitious and vehement,many in num-
ber, and furniſhed with Harangues artifici-
ally compoſed to gain belief; they have fil-
led your Ears, both heretofore and now,
with a charge deſigned againſt me. Among
theſe, Melitus, Anytus,and Lycon have aſſaul-
ted me: Melitus on behalf of Poets ; Anytus
in the name of Artificers and Politicians;
Lycon as Champion of Orators , cnraged a-
gaiſt me. I ſhould wonder then ( as I
ſaid in the beginning) if I ſhould be able
in ſo ſhort a time to diffolvė ſuch a charge
which made up of ſo great calumnies , is
grown inveterate and hard. There are truths,
Athenians;ſo that I have concealed nothing
C 4
from

24
SOCRATES his Apology.
from you , nor detracted orevaded any
the
leaſt point, though I well knew I ſhould in-
cur their hatred. Which is an Argument,
that I ſpeak Truths, and that that is my
Crimination, and thoſe the cauſes of it: and
wheiher now or hereafter you inquire into
theſe things, you ſhall certainly find them
to bę as I have repreſented them to you.
Thus far then let this be taken for a full an-
fwer before you againſt the Crimes charged
upon me by my krſt Accuſers.
Sun To Melitus, a good man,
Having anſwered and (as he ſaith himſelf) a
firſt charge, he now
w lover of his City, and to
converts to the Se. my laſt Adverſaries, I will
cond; which he Re. endevour to Anſwer anon.
Mean-while let us reſume
the Libel of Accuſation plotted againſt me,
and ratified by an Oath mutually given and
taken by all of the Combination ( for ſome
Accuſers there are, diſtinct from the former)
which ſpeaks thus.
Socrates, contrary to Right and Equity,
doth corrupt Youth; the Gods which the City
judgeth to be Gods, he thinks to be no Gods;
and introduceth new Powers
. Divine. This is
my Acouſation; the Heads whereof let us
examine ſingly.
the Articles of his
cites.
D
He

SOCRATES his Apology, 25
He faith first, that I do
contrary to Right and Equi-
The firſt Article
thereof; which he
ty, in that I corrupt Youth :
diſſolves : demon-
and I affirm that Miletus ftrating it to be oba
himſelf dotth contrary to
jeded to him by.
Miletus meerly out
Right and Equity, in that of malice, nor of re-
he Jefteth in a ſerious mat- fpe& to the virtu-
tter: while he brings ano Youth, which Meli.
ous Educatlon oi
ther into peril of loſing his tus neither under-
ſtood,por ftudied.
life, pretending himſelf to
be highly ſolicitous, and to labour excee-
dingly about theſe matters, which have
never been any part of his care [ perhaps
never (unleſs upon this occaſion) in his
thoughts:] and that this is ſo, I will trie to
demonſtrate to you. Come hither, Meli-
tus, and tell me, doſt thou take care of no-
thing elſe, but that young men may become
virtuous to the higheſt degree? Very well.
Now tell theſe, who may
make theſe yong
men better: for this thou muſt needs know,
fince thou haſt ſo long and deeply conlide-
red the matter. For me thou haſt (as thou
ſaiſt) taken already corrupting them: and
upon that account now violently bringeſt
me, by a ſtudied and formal Accuſation, to
be judged by theſe. Tell us then , who
may inſtruct and improve youth in Virtue ?
inform us, and ſhew theſe men who it is.
Thou

26. SOCRATES his Apology.
Thou ſeeſt, Melitus, thou art ſilent, and haſt
not a word to reply: Nor doth it ſeem to
misbecome thee; and ſo is a juſt Argument
thou never troubledſt thy Head with this,
care : yet tell me,in good earneſt, who may
make theſe better? The Laws. Of that I
enquire not : but what man, who firſt hath
known alſo this very thing , namely the
Laws. Theſe Judges, Socrates. How fayeft
thou Melitns? can theſe teach young men,
and refine them? yes. Can all theſe, or
fome of them do that work, and others not?
AIL Thou ſayeſt well, by Juno; and doft
commemorate good ſtore of thoſe who are
able to help. But what? can theſe Audi-
tors alſo reform men? They can. And the
Senators too? The Senators alſo. Well then,
Melitus; we muſt now ſee whether they
who make Speeches to the people, corrupt
young men, or reform them. And theſe too.
It ſeems then, Athenians, that all render
young men good and honeſt, except my
lelf, who alone debauch them. Saiſt thou
fo? I again and again affirm it. Thou
imprinteſt upon me a brand of great infeli-
city indeed: but anſwer me, haft thou the
ſame Opinion of Horſes allo? do all men
* make them better, one only excepted, who
corrupts them? or the contrary to this , is
there

SOCRATES his apology.
27
there any one who can do it: or few skil-
ful in Horſemanſhip, but on the contrary
many, who while they dreſs, manage and
uſe Horſes, wholly ſpoil them? is it not fo
of both Horſes, and all other Animals? Cer-
tainly it is, whether thou and Anytus affirm
or deny it. Since young men would at-
tain to a certain very high felicity, if there
were only one to corrupt them, and all be-
ſides would improve them, But thou, Men
litus haft fufficiently demonſtrated, that thou
takeſt no care of young men: and clearly
ſheweſt thy negligence, that thou haſt ne-
ver laboured in theſe matters, whereof thou
accuſeſt me. Furthermore
Melitusreſolve us this que- fame Article evin-
ſtion alſo by Jove; whether ced alſo by this;
it is better to dwell among
corrupted Youth,
good and ſober Citizens,
or Melitus ought,
ac
among evil and debauch? cording to the pre-
ſcript of the Law,
Anſwer me, prithee; for I firft to have privat-
ask nothing difficult. Do ly admoniſhed him,
not evil men always bring led him
thereof to
ſome Evil upon thoſe who the Magiſtrates: but
live neer them: and on the this he had never
.
contrary, good Neighbors
bring good? moſt certainly. Is there any
who had rather receive damage from thoſe
with whom he converſeth, than benefit ?
Anſwer,
The falfirie of the
that if Socrates had
done : Ergo.

28 SOCRATES his Spology.
Anfwer, prithee ; for the Law commands
thee to Anſwer: Is any willing to ſuffer De-
triment ? By no means. Go too then;ſeeing
thou haſt hurried nie into Judgement, as a
corrupter of youth,and Patron of Vice; do
I this willingly,or unwillingly ? Willingly,
as I conceive. What then, Melitus? art
thou ſo much Wiſer than I thou a young
man, doſt thou? ſo far excel me an old one,
as to underſtand, that evil men bring evil
upon thoſe who chiefly converſe with them;
but good men bring good? and am I ſa
great a Fool, as not to underſtand this, that
if I debauch any Familiar, I ſhall be in dan-
ger of ſuffering ſome Evil from him : and
To ſhall be willing to pull this ſo great Evil
upon myſelf, as thou ſaiſt? Herein, Melitus,
I believe thee not, nor (I think) doth any
man elle. Wherefore either I do notcor-
rupt youth, or I do it againſt my will: ſo:
that thou lyeſt in both. If I corrupt unwil-
lingly, the Law forbids all ſuch to be
brought hither into Judgment,
who have of
fended unwillingly; but conimands they be
privatly both inſtructed and admoniſhed.
For manifeſt it is, that upon inſtruction,
I
ſhould ceaſe to do what I did againſt my
will : but thou haſt avoided and declined
to converſe with me, and to admoniſh me;
and

SOCRATES his Apology. 29
and inſtead of that, forceſt me to this
place of Judgement, whither the Law re-
quires only ſuch incorrigible Offenders to
be brought, who need rather Coercion then
admonition. But Athenians,thisis evident,
what I ſaid before, that Melitus never had
any
the leaſt care of this matter.
19
as
Yet tellus, Melitus, how
thou canſt prove that I cor- A ſoft and ſmooth
Ty anſition to the Se.
rupt Youth. is it from the cond' Article; viz.
form of the indictment that Socrates held
thou haſt drawn againſt me; and introduced
there were no Gods,
s if I thought thoſe not to thers than thoſe the
be Gods , whom the City ped; and a demon.
Athenians worſhip-
holds to be Gods ; and in- Atration thereof to
troduced new Divinities;
be abſurd, and ree
pugnant to it felf.,
and by teaching this, cor-
rupt Youth? all this I strongly averr By
thoſe very Gods then, whereof we now
ſpeak, explain thy ſelf more clearly to me,
and to theſe here preſent, for I cannot un-
derſtand whether thou meaneſt, that I
teach there are no Gods, (and I hold there
are ſome Gods, nor am I truly without
God, nor do Iin that offend) or that I hold
not thoſe to be Gods, that the City
believes to be ſuch, but ſome others .
is this that whereof thou accuſeſt me ,
that

30
SOCRATES his Apology.
that I hold there are others ? or this, that I
hold there are none.
Prithee, Melitus, why faiſt thou this? do
I hold neither the Sun, nor
Tis worthy to be Moon to be Gods, as o-
obſerved, that here
Socrates doth not ther men think them to
plainly deny the be ? Not by Jove, Judges:
other Deities of the for the sun he affirms to be
Ethnics to be Gods; a Stone ,
and the Moon
for that had made
him guilty ; but Earth. Thou thinkeſt thou
wiſely Eludes the accuſeſt Anaxagoras , my
danger , by Tranſ- Melitus; and fo contemneſt
upon Anaxagoras; theſe here, and ſuppoſeſt
and by reducing them unlearned, and igno-
point of proving, rant that the Books of A:
that he held there naxagoras Clazomenius are
was no God, which
is impoſſible.
full of ſuch matters. Now
would Young men learni
from me theſe Doctrines, which they might
ſometimes pick up from the Muſic-room of
the Play-houſe, for not much more than a
dragm? I allow thee to laugh at Socrates,
if he feigned theſe Opinions to be his,
when they are wholly abſurd and fooliſh.
But tell me, by Jove, Melitus, ; thinkeſt thou
that I hold there is no God? I think ſo.
Thou ſpeakeſt things incredible, Melitus;
ſuch as neither thy ſelf doſt , nor canft be
lieve. This man, Athenians , fhews him-
ſelf
his accufer to the

SOCRATES his #pology. 31
ſelf injurious and petulant; and to have
brought this accuſation meerly for Re-
proach, and from impotency of Youthful
Malepartneſs, and diſtemper of Brain. He
ſeems to have propoſed a kind of Riddle, or
darkſom ſaying, out of deſign to tempt me;
whether forfooth that Wiſe man Socrates
(faith he) will perceive that I jeſt, and con-
tradict my ſelf: or I can deceive both him
and thoſe who hear me ? For, this man ap-
pears to ſpeak things repugnant each to o-
ther, in his very Libel of Accuſation: as if
he ſaid, Socrates offends in that he thinks
there are no Gods. This truly is the part
of a mocker.
Conſider with me,how he ſeems to ſpeak
this contradiction; and do thou Melitus, an-
ſwer us: and ye remember
(as I befought you before)
Another anwey
not to be diſordered to a of his Adverſaries.
from the Hypothefes
Tumult , if I ſpeak to you They Obje&, he
after my uſual manner. Is
pretended toDivine
inſpiration; and yet
there among Mortals any charge him with
one man, Melitus, who denying divine pow.
ers; which is a ma.
thinking there are Humancnifeſt contradixion.
things, can at the ſame time
not think there are Men? Let him anſwer,
Athenians; and let there be no diſturbance.
Is there any man, Melitus, who holding
there

32
SOCRATES his Apology.
there is ſuch a thing as Horſemanſhip, can
hold there are no Horſes? can he think there
are Miniſtries of Pipers, and Modes and
Tunes, but no Pipers? certainly there is no
man fo void of all ſenſe and reaſon. If
thou refuſeſt to anſwer, I will anſwerfor thee
and others. But anſwer me this further
3
is there any who confeſſeth there are things
Divine, and can yet deny the being of
Gods? No man.
How ſlow thou art?
thou haſt hardly afforded an anſwer though
forced thereunto by theſe. But doſt thou
ſay
that I hold and teach there are Demonia
[i. certain Divine Powers] whether New
or Old? if then, as thou confefſeſt, I hold
there are Divine Powers, and I Swear the
ſame in the Bill of my Anſwer, 'tis of unde
niable neceſſity, that I hold alſo there are
Demones, i. e. Gods. Is not this neceſſary?
*Tisſo, for I take thy ſilence for Confeſſion.
But theſe Dæmones, do We
An amplification of conceive them to be Gods,
the ſame Argument
from hence, that all or the Sons of Gods. Dort
Relatives imply the thou affirm , or deny this
I affirm it. If then I hold
there are Dæmones, as thou
affirmeſt, if ſome Gods be Dæmones; this is
the very thing; wherein I affirm thou doſt
Jeſt in obſcure Words: when thou ſaiſt, i
Exiſtence each of
other.
think

SOCRATES his Apology
33
think not that there are Gods, and on the
contrary think there are Gods: ſeeing thou
granteſt,that I think there are Dæmones.
And if theſe Demones be the Sons of
Gods,Baſtards begotten upon eitherNymphs,
or ſome others, ſuch as are vulgarly talked
of; what man can hold them to be the Sons
of Gods, and yet hold that the Gods them
felves are not for it would be equally ab-
furd, as if a man ſhould affirm there are
Colts of Horſes, or of Afles, Mules; but deny
Horſes & Affes themſelves to be in rerum
natura. But Melitus, thou haſt formed this
Accuſation againſt me, either that thou
mighteſt Experiment my skill in Reaſoning,
or certainly becauſe thou hadſt nothing to
object to me as a true crime. Couldſt thou
perſwade any man who hath but a ſpark of
ſenſe and underſtanding, that the fame man
can hold there are [aubvide, & O&x] Divine
things, and yet at the ſame time deny there
are either Dæmones, or Gods, or Heroes?
this cannot be poſſible. And ſo, Athenians,
it is not neceſſary for me further to de-
monſtrate, that I am not in the leaſt point
guilty of the charge contrived by Melitas
againſt me: ſeeing theſe particulars ſeem
abundantly cleared and proved.
19
D
Now

34
SOCRATES his apology.
doubt of Abrolu-
Now ye may take it for
Having refuted Me. an evident Truth, that ( as
lis Indiament, fo I ſaid afore ) among the
that he need not multitude alſo there was
tion from impartial raiſed up very great hatred
Judges:he yet fews againſt me: and that is it
his danger from the which if any thing do, will
ecrate hatred of the take away my life; not
people,always inſenſe Melitus , nor Anitus, but the
to good men,
very Crimination, and Odi-
um of the people; which hath deſtroyed
many other good men, and will likewiſe
V deſtroy many in times to come ; for there is
nothing of incommodity, if this plague en-
ded in me.
But ſome one may here ask,
Art not thou aſhanied, Socrates,to undertake
this ſo great an Enterpriſe, which may bring
thee into preſent danger of Death > and I
think I may return him this juſt Anſwer.
Thou art groſly miſtaken
That a virtuous and whoever thou art , if thou
valiant man is not,
even by death it thinkeſt that a brave and
fell, deterred from valiant man makes any dif-
doing his dury;
which he confirins ference betwixt, or is at all
by. Examples. concerned in life or death,
where any, though but little Utility may
from thence reſult: and that he doth not,
when he undertakes any Enterpriſe,
throughly conſider this, whether he there-
in

SOCRATES his Spology 35
in performs Things juſt or unjuſt, whether
he doth the work of a Good or Ill man.
For according to that thy reaſon, all the
Heroes, or Half-Gods who dyed at Troy,were
wicked and profligate; as well others, as
the Son of Thetis, who that he might ſuffer
nothing of diſhonor , ſo far coñtemned
death, that after his Mother, the Goddeſs
her felf, oppoſing his deſire of killing He-
dor, had aſſured him that if he to Revenge
the ſlaughter of his Friend arid Kinſmari
Patroclus, ſhould kill Hečtor, he ſhould him-
felf be ſlain; ir theſe very words (if I be not
miſtaken.)
Hector once killed, thou too ſhalt ſurely diet
He nevertheleſs perſiſted in his Reſolua
tion, deſpiſing death and danger; he ratlier
feared, left Surviving, he ſhould be held dif
honeſt and unfaithful , if he vindicated not
the injuries of his Friends; and thereuponi
inſtantly retorts. Let me dye puniſhing in
injurious man, lest here expoſed to the Laugh-
ter and ſcorn of the Greeks, I ſit on Shipboard
an unprofitable Burthen of the Earth. Think-
eft thou that he was concerned in death, or
any other danger. Thus it is, Athenians:
in what place ſoever any man is fet, either
by his own Judgment that it will be beſt,
Da
]

36
SOCRATES his apology.
for moſt commodious for him, or by com-
mand of the Magiſtrate , he is obliged
therein conſtantly to perſiſt, whatever dan-
ger threatens him ; nor is he to conſider a-
ny other thing ſo much as this,how he may
avoid Diſhonor. Truly Athenians,I ſhould in-
volve my ſelf in a very great Wickedneſs, if
having hitherto, even to the hazard of my
Life, conſtantly maintained my ſtation in
that place , in which they whom you had
conſtituted my Generals, have ſet me,whe-
ther in Potidæa, or in Amphipolis,or in Deli-
um: I ſhould now at length
He argueth mivpn when God hath ordered
ri ad majus , if the
Authority of a mor-
and conſtituted me in that
tal General, be fo. degree [ as I have hitherto
great, as to oblige conceived , and with full
mand , to maintain perſwalion of mind enter-
their ſtations with tained that Judgment) that
invincible conſtan.
cy, what ought we it behoves me to ſpend my
to think, of the au- life in Philoſophizing; and
thority of God.
ſo to ſearch and throughly
examine both my ſelf and others : commit
a very hainous ſin, if for fear of death, or
any other terror,I ſhould abandon my ſtati-
on,and deſert my office. And then certainly
any man might drag me to judgment with-
out injuſtice, for that I, from fear of death,
diſobeying the command of the Oracle,
held

SOCRATES his Apology. 37
ſo.
held there are no Gods; and for that I
thought my ſelf to be wiſe, when I am not
For to fear Death, O ye men,is nothing
elſe but for a man to think himſelf wife, who
is far from being ſo, for he thinks he knows
what he doth not know. For no mortal
knows, whether Death be not mans great-
eſt good : and yet they fear death, as if they
certainly knew it to be of all Evils the
greateſt. And who ſees not, that it is an
infamous and ſhamefulignorance , to think
ones ſelf to know that, whereof he is utter-
ly ignorant? But I, Athenians, herein very
much differ from many men: and if I durſt
affirm my ſelf wiſer than any other in any
one thing, it ſhould be in this, that I under-
ſtand nothing concerning the ſtate and con-
dition of thoſe below; nor think I know it.
This one thing I certainly know; that to do
injury to any man, or to rebel againſt our
Superiors, whether God or Men, is ſinful and
ſhameful
. But as for thoſe things, which I
know not whether they be good or evil;
certainly I never will either fear or avoid
them , rather than thoſe which I certainly
know to be evil If therefore repudiating the
Since it would be a crime equivalent to Atheiſm or ima
piety, for him to relinquiſh his office of reproving men ; he
declares his firm reſolution to perfiſt in the execution
thereof, in contempt of all danger, yea of death it ſelf.
D3
Coun-

SOCRATES his apology.
Counſelof Anytus, who faith, that either I
ought not to have been brought to this
judgment at all; or that ſince I am come hi-
ther you are in prudence obliged to adjudg
me to capital puniſhment: and ſubjoyns this
reaſon, that if I cſcape condemnation, it
will come to paſs, that your Sons eagerly,
and with zeal purſuing the Leſſons I teach
them, will all be wholly corrupted: if(I ſay)
ye ſhould acquit and diſmiſs me,and lay to
me, Socrates, at this time we give no credit
at all to Anytus, but acquit and diſcharge
thee; yet on this condition, that henceforth
thou never again meddle with this Diſqui-
Gition, that is, never more Philoſophize ; and
if thou art found to do it, thou ſhalt cer-
tainly be puniſhed with death: if (as I ſaid)
ye would acquit me upon theſe conditions;
I ſhould tell ye, that indeed I acknowledg
and thank ye for your good will and fa-
vour, but chooſe rather to obey God than
you,and that while I live,and am able to do
it,I will never ceaſe to Philoſophize, and to
teach and exhort every one of you whom I
ſhall meet, and after my manner to incul-
cate thus. « And thou, who alſo art a Ci-
mesou monoize, five (ut Ciceroni yocatur) Conformatio,qu4
Socrates ſibi perfonam, que non adeft,adeffe confingit.
ixto eat tizen

SOCRATES his apology. 39
no care,
65
ç tizen of Athens, a City both exceeding
great, and moſt renowned, as well for
wiſdom as power; feareſt thou not to
« undertake the menage and conduct of
an affair of importance, and to acquire
“ Honor; that thoſe [advantages] may be
« accumulated upon thee; and yet takeſt
no conGderation of prudence
and verity, i.e. of thy own mind, to ren-
« der it moſt accompliſht and noble ? If any
man ſhould deſire contentiouſly to oppugn
this my admonition,and affirm, that he doth
take care alſo of thoſe [moſt excellent ]
things, [prudence and truth:] I would not
preſently diſmiſs him,and go my way ; but
would interrogate, and by ſtrict examinati-
on ſift him, and ſo convince him.If I concei-
ved him to be unfurniſhed with virtue,
though he ſhould never ſo confidently own
himſelf to be therewith adorned; I would
rebuke him and ſeverely tell him , that he
hath no eſteem for things of greateſt mo-
ment,but puts too great value upon things
vile and contemptible. And this will I do
to every man, young or old, Citizen or ſtran-
ger, whomſoever I ſhall meet: but more ſtu-
diouſly to Citizens, as you are more neerly
For fo (believe me ) God
commands me to do. Nor do I think a
greater
related to me.
D4

40
SOCRATES his Apology»
.
form men,
afierts the excellent
greater good can come to
After the divine your City, than that I per-
authority of
commiflion to re- form this ſervice to God,
he here For, addicting my ſelf in-
tirely to this work,and pre-
Bbtility of it.
termitting all other affairs,
I walk up and down with no other defign,
but to perſwade you, young and old , tó
eſteem neither bodies, nor riches, nor any
thing elſe, before , nor ſo much as your
mind, that it be with all poſſible ſpeed re-
fined to the laſt degree of goodneſs. And I
give this reaſon: that Virtue hath not its
being from riches; but from Virtue flow
both riches, and all other goods, as well
privatly as publickly to men. Now if I cor-
rupt youth by ſaying theſe things, let them
be hurtful: but if any one avouches, that I
ſày other things beſides theſe, he ſaith no-
thing. Infine, I ſhall anſwer to theſe things,
do ye, Athenians, believe Anytús, or not;
diſcharge me, or not; do according to your
pleaſure: I will never do any thing but
this, though I were to ſuffer many deaths.
Be not diſturbed, Athenians, but continue
the calnı attention I begged of ye; left you
excite a tumult by reaſon of what I ſhall
ſpeak : but hear me patiently. Which if ye
ſhall do, ye will(I think)receive from thence
no

SOCRATES his pology. 41
no little emolument. Other things beſides
I ſhall ſpeak, that perhaps will move ye to,
exclame: but pray, forbear to do ſo. For
be well aſſured that if ye ſhall put me to
death, me, ſuch a man as I deſcribe myſelf
to be : ye will bring greater loſs to your
City, to your ſelves, than to me : for nei-
ther ſhall Melitus, nor Anytus hurt me in
the leaſt, nor could they. Since I think it
impoſſible, that a good man ſhould be violated
by a wicked man. He will murder me per-
haps, or expel, or diſgrace me; and he, and
ſome others will account thoſe to be great
evils : but I think them not to be ſuch.
Nay I rather hold, that to do the actions
that he doth, is a great evil indeed : for he
attempts to inflict puniſhment unjuſtiy up-
on an innocent man. Now therefore Athe-
nians , I am ſo far from making a Defenſe
for my ſelt (as ſome may expect) that I will
ſpeak rather for your fakes; leſt by giving
ſentence againſt me, ye hainouſly ſin a-
gainſt the gift of God that is
μη εξαμαρτηθε πε.
in me: for if ye kill me, ye
ρι την τε θες δο-
Olv vule. Que verba ſhall not eaſily find ſuch a-
ipfemet Sanétus Apo: nother, one who (that I
flolus Paulus alicubi
emphatice recirit. may ſpeak truly and can-
didly, though bluntly and
ridiculouſly being by God appointed to
the

42
SOCRATES his Apology.
the care and overſight of this your City,am
conſtiruted ſuperviſor thereof, and Mode-
rator ; that I might ſit upon it, as upon a
Horfe great and generous indeed, but by
reaſon of his huge bulk, dull and ſlow, and
to be excited by ſharp pricks. Exactly ſo
God ſeems to me, to have placed me over
the City, that I may incite ye,and perſwade
ye, end reprove every Mothers Son of ye,
ceaſing not daily to ſit by (and admoniſh
every one in every place. Such another
[monitor] Athenians, will not eaſily come to
ye: and therefore (if ye believe me, ſpare
me. Though ye perhaps, filled with in-
dignation, as men rouzed up from profound
ſleep, and following the Counſel of Anytus,
rejecting mixe, ſhall without remorſe put
me to death: yet be moſt confident, you
ſhall ſpend the remainder of your life in
drowſineſs, unleſs God, taking care of ye,
ſhall ſend ſome other [to excite ye.] And
that I am ſuch a man, by the ſpecial favour
and bounty of God given to the City, ye
may collect from hence. It ſeems not con-
A further proof of the Divine authori'y of his office ,
from his negle& of all his private and Domeſtick affairs, only
that he mighe execute that with diligence, for the Pub-
lic good.
Gibonniega boys
fenta-

SOCRATES his Apology. 43
fentaneous to Humane reaſon, that I caſting
away all care of my own private affairs,
have ſo tempered my felf, as to endure ſo
many years together in that contempt of
my domeſtic concernments; and wholly ap-
ply my ſelf to the adminiſtration of yours,
by catching hold of, and going unto every
one, and as a Father,or elder Brother, incul-
cating to ye,that ye ſhould ſtudiouſly addict
your ſelves to Virtue. If from theſe advi-
ſes of mine I received any emolument, or a-
ny reward, to my own private uſes, and
gave them to that end; that would ſeem to
rely upon ſome probable reaſon ; but ye
ſee, that my very Adverſaries themſelves,
who have impudently forged ſo many lies
againſt me, could not yet to their higheſt
improbity adjoyn that ſhameleſs boldneſs,
either to accuſe me, or oppoſe any witneſs
to me as if I had exacted or asked a reward
from any one at any time. And of this
truth, I might bring my poverty as a compe-
tent, and (I think ) a convincing wit-
neſs.
Now it may perhaps ſeem abſurd, that I
running to and fro to ſeveral men , and
with extreme diligence buſying my ſelf,
ſhould give counſel to each one apart ; but
pot dare to addreſs my ſelf in public to the
pco:

44
SOCRATES his Apology.
in
people, to give the ſame adviſes to the
City.
The cauſe of this is what
The reaſon why he
had not addrerred moſt of ye have heard from
his Counſels to the me, oftentimes, in various
City
to particular places. I have ſomething
men, viz. that he Divine, and a Demonium, a
was forbidden to certain Voice: at which Me-
meddle with the
public, by his De litus indeed in his accuſati-
monium; (vide apu on railed expreſly. This be-
leium de Socratis
Demonio.)
gan with me from a Boy,
namely a certain voice,
which when it hath been perceptible , al-
wajes recalsme from that thing I was going
to do; but never impells me to undertake
any thing; this is that which forbids me to
intereſt my ſelf in matters of the State, or of
public concernment to the City. And in-
deed it ſeems with admirable prudence to
oppoſe me [therein.] For
That he might de. Athenians, if în times paſt
cline the danger im-
pendent over all
I had taken upon me the
good men, who inter adminiſtration of Civil af.
the adminiſtration fairs, truly I had long ſince
rf State affairs; and periſhed; ſo that I could
ro the longer per. not have been any way
form his duty , in
reprehending men. uſeful either
uſeful either to you
my ſelf. Be not inflamed
with indignation againſt me ſpeaking the
truth;
you. or to

SOCRATES his Apology: 45
CC
CG
« truth; for there is no man, who if he ſhall
« ingeniouſly and boldly oppoſe either
you, or any other people, and hinder the
"doing of many acts ofinjuſtice and impie-
ty in a City, can ever be preſerved in ſafe-
ty: and whoever ſincerely contends for
“the maintenance of Juſtice, muſt be obli-
ged, if he deſire to live any the leaſt time
« in peace and ſafety to lead a private life,
“ without intereſſing himſelf in the admini-
“ ſtration of public buſineſſes. Hereof I
will give you very ſtrong arguments, not
words, but ( what ye more value) realities
and matters of fact. Hear at He attefteth his
therefore what hapned to confiant adherence
me,that ye may underſtand, to Equity and fu-
that I have in no reſpect thereby incurred
ſtice, even when he
yeilded to any in the de- preſen danger of
fence of what is juſt, for
death ; and that by
many inſtances yet
fear of death; no not when freſh in the memo-
I ſeemed to incur preſent ty of ſome of his
đanger of deſtruction, by ons tot
refuſing to yield. I will tell ye things Of-
fenſive, & impertinent to this way of plead-
ing cauſes in Court, yet true. For,1,Athe-
nians, never bore Office, in the Common-
wealth, yet attained to the dignity of séna-
tor; and our Tribe Antiochis obtained the
Lieutenancy of the Supream power, when
ye

46
SOCRATES his Spology.
ye cenſured ten Military Officers to be con-
demned to death, for not burying the ſlain
in a Naval fight, and this againſt Law, as
ye after judged. Then I being one of the
Council of Athens oppoſed you, that ye
might not give a judgment contrary to
Law; and made a decree contrary to yours,
the Orators then ready to call me to the
Bar, and appoint a day for my Trial, ye alfo
affenting, and by acclamations approving
their Indictment: yet I choſe rather to be
in danger with Law and Juſtice, than aſſent
to your unjuſt votes , notwithſtanding the
terror of impriſonment or death. And
theſe things fell out at that time, when the
City was governed by equal Democracy!
but when it afterward fell under the domi-
nation of a Few, the thirty Tyrants fent me
the fifth man to Tholus, that we ſhould bring
from Salomine, Leontes,salaminius, to be put
to death, as they commanded many others
allo, to the end they might derive the envy
of their [own] many crimes upon the heads
of many others. Then I not by words, but
actions, demonſtrated, that the fear of death
(that I may ſpeak a little roughly and clow-
nihly) touched me not: and that my grand
care and concernment was that I might com-
mit nothing unjuſt and impious. Nor truly
did

SOCRATES his Apology. 47
did the command and government of thoſe
Tyrants, however violent and cruel, ſo ter
rifie me, as to make me do any unjuſt act.
But after we departed from Tholus, four (of
the Embaſſadors] went on to Salamine,and
brought away Leontes ; and I went home:
and perhaps I ſhould for this cauſe have
been put to death, had not that Tyranny
been ſoon after ſubverted and deſtroyed:
and of theſe traverſes I have many witneſſes.
Now whether do ye think,that I could have
continued ſafe fo many years together, if I
had imployed my ſelf in matters belonging
to the State : and ſo deporting my ſelf, as
became a good man, had vindicated and
maintained jnft cauſes, and thereunto ſeri-
ouſly and ſtudiouſly devoted all my de-
voirs? It had been impoffible , Athenians;
nor any men elfe. But truly through the
whole courſe of my life, both publickly if I
acted any thing, and privatly, I ſtill have
kept to the ſame rule, never to yeild to any
man, neither to other, nor to any one of
theſe,whom my accuſers individuoufly call
my Diſciples, in any ching contrary to right
and equity. Nor have I ever been Precep-
tor to any man: but if any were deſirous to
hear my diſcourſes, whether he were young
or old, Inever denied him this ; nor do I
diſpute

48
SOCRATES his Spology.
diſpute to get money, or if mony be want-
ing,lefs : but with equal freedom offer my
ſelf to be interrogated, to the rich and to
the poor, and whoſoever pleaſes, hears my
anſwers. If by theſe my anſwers and con-
ferences, any man hath become either ſo-
ber,and of good and honeſt converſation or
debaucht and vitious ; tis not juſt; that I
ſhould bear the blame thereof; ſeeing I nei-
ther taught, nor promiſed to teach any man.
And if any ſhall ſay, he hath learned, or
heard from me in private, any thing, that all
might not with equal freedom hear : be ye
moſt aſſured, he ſpeaks moſt untruly.But the
reaſon why ſome are delighted with my fre-
quent and long converlation, ye have heard
Athenians. 'Tis wholly this, as Ideclaredz
that thoſe who are admitted to my confe-
rences, are much pleaſed to hear fuch who
think themſelves to be wiſe, but are not ſo;
examined and refuted; for this is fnot un-
pleaſant. And that I ſhould thus confute
ſuch, I affirm to be a duty impoſed upon me
by God, both by Vaticinations y, and by
Dreams, and all other waies, whereby Ora-
cles are wont to deliver commands. Theſe
things, Athenians are both true, and ſuch as
may be eaſily proved. For it I now oflate
corrupt ſome young men, and have long
ſince

SOCRATES his Apology
49
nor.
fince corrupted others ; it
would be probable, that He appeals to the
Come of thoſe who have preſent, who had of
arrived at years of more ten heard his mor
maturity, and the borders ther he had ever
of old age, when they come endevoured to cor-
gupt their minds, or
to underſtand me to have
been to them author and
adviſer of ſome certain evil, would now
riſe up againſt me , and accuſe me, and re-
quire me to be delivered up to puniſhment;
and if they would not , yet it were fit that
ſome of their Kinſmen, Fathers , or Bro-
thers, or others, whether by Affinity or Al-
liance nearly related to them, ſhould in
caſe their Kinſmen had ſuffered any thing
of detriment from me,remember the injury,
and demand puniſhment to be inflicted up-
on me ; but here are many whom I fee.
Firſt this Crito here, my equal in years, and
my Country-man, the Father of this Crito-
bulus: then Lyſanias the sphettenſian, the
Father of this Æſchines: and Antiphon the
Cephifenfian, Father of Epigenes. Theſe others
then, whoſe Brethren lived with me in this
way of converſation familiarly, Nicostratus
Son of Zotidas , Brother of Theodotus (but
Theodotus is dead, ſo that he cannot now
ask his Brother to impeach me) and this
E
Paralus

50
SOCRATES his apology.
of
Paralus, Son of Demodicus, whoſe Brother
is Theages ; and Adimantus of Ariſton,
whoſe Brother here is Plato; and Æ.
antidorus , whoſe Brother is Apollodo-
rus , and many others I could ſhew,
whom it was fit ſome one at leaſt ſhould
have been named as witneſs by Melitus in
his accuſation; and if he forgot to do it
then, let him produce any one of them now,
I will give him leave freely; let him declare
whether he hath any matter of this kind.
But ye ſhall find the contrary, Athenians;
namely that all theſe are ready to help and
vindicate me, who (ſay Melitus and Anytus)
corrupt and wrong their Kinſmen. Truly,
if thoſe whom I have corrupted and infe-
Čted, ſhould endevour to aſſiſt and vindicate
me, that would carry a plauſible face of rea-
fon: but if thoſe who have felt no conta-
gion of my corruptions, antient men, and
by conſanguinity neerly related to thofe
whom I have corrupted, ſtand for and de-
fend me; they can ſeem to be impelled to
that defenſe, by no other reaſon but what is
right and juſt ; that is, becauſe they are
conſcious that Melitus lyeth, and I ſpeak
truth. Let therefore what I have hitherto
kid, Athenians, and other the like reaſons
be ſufficient for my defenſe,
But

SOCRATES his Apology
51
But now ſome one may
be offended at me, if he
He profeſſeth rok
to court the favour,
call to mind, that he being nor to excite the
brought into leſs danger judges, by the uſual
than this of mine is, petiti- arts of pufillani-
oned and courted the Judg- mous, men, when
es with many tears, and to receive their ſen-
brought his children hi- tence.
ther, to excite pity and commiſeration
to the height, and brought alſo to the ſame
purpoſe many of his Kindred and Friends :
but obſerves me to do no ſuch thing, tho
brought into extreme peril of my life : and
conſidering this with himſelf, become the
more inraged and more embittered againſt
me, and ſo in anger give hisvote or ſentence
for my condemnation. If any of you be
thus affected, I will not addreſs to him with
prayers and fupplications, to mitigate his
diſpleaſure; yet think I may with equity and
fair reaſon ſpeak thus to him. I alſo , o
thou very good man, have ſome Kinſmen; for
Cas Homer ſaith) I am not born from an oak,
nor of a ſtone, but from men. I then have
Kinſmen too, Athenians and three Sonsone
a young Lad; two little Boyes; yet I have
brought neither of them hither, to beggio
ye for their fakes to be favorable to nie,and
abfolve me. What then? will I do
E 2
none
of

52
SOCRATES his Apology.
ftinate
and their honey and
of thoſe [fubmiffive] things? Not of per-
tinacious arrogancy, Athe-
Yet not out of ob- nians,or in contempt of you
nor of contempt of (& whether I have courage
his Judges; but only and conſtancy to ſuffer
to conſerve his own death, or not, I ſhall elſe-
dignity,
where declare) but to af-
ſert both my own and your
honor and reputation, and ſo that alſo of
the whole City.It ſeems to me indecent and
diſhoneſt, that I ſhould do any of thoſe
(ungenerous] things ;I who am of this age,
and have acquired (whether deſervedly
or
not) ſo great a name [for wiſdom.] This
then I moſt firmly reſolve upon, to do my
devoir that Socrates may differ from other
men Were thoſe who among you ſeem to
excel, whether in fapience, or in fortitude,
or in any other virtue whatſoever, ſuch as
ye would have me to be, [afraid of death;]
certainly no ſmall difýrace would be there-
by fixed upon your City. Some ſuch I have
beheld, when they ſtood here expecting the
ſentence of death to paſs upon them: who
though they thought themſelves brave fel-
lows, yet brought into thoſe ſtreights,com-
mitted things diſhonorable, even to admi-
ration, as thinking they ſhould ſuffer ſome
grievous miſery if they dyed; as if (for-
footh

SOCRATES his Apology.
53
footh ) they ſhould be immortal , if ye put
them not to death. Theſe ſeem to me to
bring a ſhamefnl mark of ignominy and
reproach upon your City: foraſmuchas any
ſtranger will hence take occaſion of think-
ing baſely of us, namely that among the A-
thenians, even thoſe who as more excellent
in virtue, are preferred to places of higheſt
dignity and power in the State, nothing
differ from timorous ] Women. Theſe
things, Athenians, 'tis not fit ye ſhould do
your ſelves, who have acquired honor and
renown, and are highly eſteemed. [both at
home and abroad:7 nor ought ye to permit
them to be done by us, but rather to make
it appear by effect, that ye will rather con-
demn him who ſhall introduce thoſe The-
atrical fopperies, and devices to raiſe com-
miſeration, into your judgments, and ſo ex-
poſe your City to ſcorn and deriſion; than
him who calmly expects the event of your
| judgment. Now beſides this care we ought
to have of the Honor of our
City, there is this alſo ad- And becauſe'cis in-
joyned, that to me it ſeems duty and oath of *
not equal and juſt, that we Judge, to admit
of
ſhould with fupplications mercy.
court the Judg, and by the
force and efficacy of thoſe prayers, decline
tho
conſiſtent with the
for
E 3

54
SOCRATES his Apology.
the rigor of his ſentence, and fo be abfol-
ved: I think, he is only to be rightly infor-
med, and by certain arguments perſwaded.
For the Judge fits not here, to confer grace
and favour, and to ſhew indulgence; but
to judge righteouſly. To this he is bound
by folemn Oath, that according to the beſt
of his underſtanding, he ſhall not by grace
and favour pervert right, but judge accor-
ding to the preſcript and form of the Laws.
'Tis not therefore fit , that either ye ſhould
accuſtom your ſelves, or we be accuſtomed
to perjury: for neither could do it without
violation of piety and religion. Do not
then, Athenians, require this from me, that
I ſhould in your preſence perform things
which I take to be neither honeſt, nor juſt,
nor pious; and the rather becauſe I ſtand
here accuſed by this Melitus of impiety; for
ſhould I by begging and intreating endea-
vour to induce ye to abſolve me, and by
[fawning] words as it were compell yeſo
ſtrictly bound by Oath; truly I ſhould con-
vince you to be of opinion, that there are
no Gods ; and while I defend my ſelf from
that falſe accuſation, effe&tually accuſe my
felf to be guilty thereof, as if I thought there
are no Gods. Whereas truly I am far from
beingšof that (abſurd] opinion; for I hold
Atheni-

SOCRATES his Apology. 55
Athenians, more certainly than any of my
accuſers, that there are Gods: and to you,
and to God I freely leave the iſſue of my
judgment, that he may determine of me as
may be both for my good, and yours.
A new speech after his condemnation.
Je comforts himna
That I may with the leſs
regret and diſquiet of mind felf, both with his
bear this my diſaſter, name, previſion of the co
vent of his judge-
ly that I am by your Votes ment, and with the
condemned ; very many paucity of Vote: con.
things concur to afford me
help and conſolation ; among the reſt this
chlefly, that this hath not hapned to me o-
therwiſe than I believed and expected; but
the number of Votes given on both ſides, I
more admire. For, I thought I ſhould have
been condemned, not by ſo ſmall, but a
much greater exceſs of Balls: now it ap-
pears, that if only thirty Balls had been o.
therwiſe caſt, Iſhould have been abſolved.
From the accuſation of Melitus therefore
(if I be not miſtaken) I am free and clear :
nor only that, but this likewiſe is evident to
all, that if Anytus and Lycon had not riſen
up with a new ſupplement to accuſe me,
he had been fined in the ſum of a thouſand
dragms,
E 4

58 SOCRATES His Apology.
niſhment
niary mulet; which
dragms, for that he had not
By the Athenian
on his ſide ſo much as a fifth
law a man condem
ned to capital pu- part of the Votes. He then
might hath my life for a Muld.
choſe either exile,
or perpetual impri. Let it be ſo. And with what
was called the other ſide think it equal to
VITTOTI Molai, a ſubſti. be mulct'd my ſelf, Atheni-
tution, or commutas ans? 'tis clear, with that
This Socrates refue whereof I am worthy.
ſeth , and reſolves What then? what have I
rather co die; as
Xenophor alſo recor. deſerved to ſuffer, or pay,
deth of him. Yet becauſe in my whole life, I
briefly recounting
his own merits, he have not by idle ſilence
affirms himſeļf to concealed what I knew; but
deſerve from the
Athenians, not
contemned the purſuit of
miſhment, but ſome thoſe things that others
ample reward ans with all poſſible contention
(werable to his
and office; in partie of mind covet and hunt af-
cular a penſion for
ter, riches and great eſtates,
military commands, public
aſſemblies, and other dig.
nities and ſodalities confirmed by oaths, fa-
ctions alſo and parties which are frequently
made in the City: conceiving my ſelf de-
ſtined to nobler ſtudies, than that flying to
the helps and defenſes of thoſe [uncertain]
things, I ſhould from hence draw the hopes
of conſerving my ſelf: in fine, I applied not
my
puc
his life from the
State.

SOCRATES his apology. 57
my ſelf to the attainment of ſuch things,
which if I had attained, I ſhould have rea-
ped from them nothing of utility either to
my ſelf, or to you ; but made it my chief
buſineſs, and conſtant labour, by addreſſing
to every one, to oblige all, by the
greateſt and nobleſt of benefits; namely by
perſwading everyman of you to make it his
firſt care to become virtuous and prudent
to the laſt degree; nor to take greater
care about affairs belonging to the City,
than the City it felf; and that by the ſame
reaſon, care was to be taken of other mat-
ters in the ſame manner. What therefore
is it that I, being ſuch a man, have deſerved
to ſuffer ? Some great good certainly, Athe-
nians, if ye eſtimate things according to the
dignity, verity, and nature of them and
return a juſt reward. And in truth there
is due to me ſuch a good, as may be ſuita-
ble and convenient to my perſon. And
what is convenient to a man poor and be-
nefic, who gives himſelf wholly up to ad-
moniſhing and urging you on to virtue,and
therefore hath need to be exempted from
other buſineſſes, that he may freely and
without diſtractions attend that good
work ? Nothing doubtleſs is more conve-
nient; Athenians, than that he be nouriſhed
in
>

58
SOCRATES his apology.
* The Public Gra. in the * Prytaneum: and this
of Corn in Athens. certainly with greater rea-
fon, than if any of ye had
in the Olympic games brought home Vicro-
ry either from the Horſe-race, or Chariots,
whether of two or four Horſes apiece. For
he can but make ye to appear happy, butt,
to be really fo: and he wants not a relief of
aliments or food, but I do. If then, as equity
and juſtice require, a due reward be to be
defined and aſſignd to me; this truly will be
my reward, to be fed at the charge of the
State in the Prytaneum.
While I ſay this perhaps
For this his freedom I ſeem to ſpeak aš vainly,
of claiming a main.
tenance froin the as I was thought to ſpeak
City, he gives this arrogantly and obſtinately
reaſon; that he can..
not affent to an ad afore , when I declared a-
of injiſtice, though gainſt that way of moving
done againſt himſelf. Judges to commiſeration by
prayers and ſupplications. But this, Atheni-
ans, is not ſo: but rather thus. My conſtant
perſwaſion and reſolve is, not to do injury
willingly and knowingly to any man living;
but I prevail not upon ye to believe this
my profeſſion, for the time we ſpeak toge-
ther, is but ſhort. When if ye had among
ye a Law, ſuch as is in force among other
Nations, concerning giving ſentence of
death

SOCRATES his Apology. 59
death, that the ſpace of not only one, but
very many daies, ſhould intercede betwixt
the hearing of the cauſe, and pronouncing
of Judgment in cauſes capital : doubtleſs ye
would approve of my reaſons and plea: but
now in ſo ſhort a time 'tis not poſſible to
waſh off the accuſations of ſo great crimes.
* Now being fixed in this
reſolution, not to do injury Reaſons why he
to any, I am very far from ile,nor impriſonment,
doing it to my ſelf; that is, nor fine; but death.
from pronouncing my ſelf
guilty of this evil, and aſſigning to my ſelf
ſome other puniſhment in lieu thereof.
What? fhall I, as if I feared to ſuffer the pu-
niſhment to which Melitus adjudgeth me,
( which I profeſs not to know whether it
be good or evil)chooſe inſtead thereof that
which I certainly know to be evil,& adjudg
and condemn my ſelf to ſuffer it? Impriſon-
ment? To what end ſhould I live in priſon,
perpetually in flavery to the will and com-
mand of the Eleven? A pecuniary malé ? and
remain in priſon until I have paid it.But as I
even now told ye, I have not mony where-
with to pay a fine. Shall I ſuffer Exile for to
this puniſhment ye will perhaps addict me.
Certainly I were much in love with life,
Athenians, were I fo inconfiderate, as not

60 SOCRATES his Apology.
to be able to ſee, that if ye my Fellow-Ci-
tizens cannot endure the way of my conver-
ſation and diſcourſes, but think them ſo of-
fenſive and hateful to ye, that now ye ſeek
to be freed from them; others will leſs pa-
tiently endure them. I am far from this,
Athenians. Wiſely ſhould I order my life
indeed , if at this age departing from my
City,and wandring to and fro in baniſhment
through various Countries,I ſhould prolong
a miſerable life. So certainly the caſe ſtands;
whereſoever I ſhall come , young men will
hear me diſcourſing, as here they do. If I
repel them, they will on the other fide ex-
pel me, and bring their Elders to do ſo too:
if I not repel them, their parents and Kin-
dred will for their ſakes expel me. Some
man will ſay perhaps, what ? Socrates ; be-
ing expulfed the City, canſt thou not live filent
and quiet? What I ſhall ſay, is of that na-
ture, as hardly to be inſinuated into the be-
lief of ſome of ye; for if I tell ye, that for
me to be ſilent, is to reſiſt God, and there-
fore it is not poſſible I ſhould live in quiet ;
ye will not believe me,as if diſſembling the
matter in jeſt. But if I ſay this allo; that
it is the ſupreme happineſs of man-kind,dai-
ly to diſcourſe of virtue , and of thoſe other
(excellent] things, concerning which ye
hear

SOCRATES his apology: 61
mony: unleſs
hear me diſputing, and examining both my
ſelf and others, (for without ſuch ſcrutiny
and examination, life is not life) ye wil not
give credit to me; and yet theſe are moſt
certain truths, Athenians; though ſuch as
cannot eaſily be wrought into your belief.
And with the ſame difficulty truly am I per-
ſwaded to pronounce my ſelf worthy of a-
ny puniſhment. For if I had monies by
me, I would condemn my ſelf in ſuch a fine,
as I ſhould be able to pay (for that I ſhould
account no detriment to me) but I have no
ye ſhould proportion my fine
to my ability ; perhaps I ſhould make a
ſhift to pay down a mins
* of ſilver ; and therefore The Mina Attica of
I fine
filver, conteined 25
ſelf at that rate.
my
ſicles; and the ficle
Plato here, Athenians, and conteined half an
Crito,and Critobulus, and A- ounce; fo that 12
pollodorus bid me offer the a mina : a ſum equal
price of thirty mine; and to 25 ftaters, or
Belgic Flarens, each
promiſe to be ſureties for of 20 Aufers.
the paiment thereof. This
fum therefore I propoſe for my redemption,
and they will be aſſiduous and competent
(ureties for the paiment of it.
But now, Athenians , ye ſhall ere-long
fuffer ignominy and reproach,
brought upon
your City by thoſe who deſire to defame
it ;

62 SOCRATES his Spology.
es the Athenians
a
He freely reproache it; namely that ye have
with their ingrati.
murdered
Socrates ,
tude, and inhumanity wiſe man. For tho I be fár
towards him.
from a wiſe man, yet they
who ſeek to caſt this diſgrace upon ye,
will ſay I am one.
Would ye have expe-
cted but a little time, I ſhould have preven-
ted this your infamy, by dying of my ſelf
by the courſe of nature; for
ye
ſee
my age,
how far it is from [poſſibility of long] life,
how nearly approaching to death. Theſe
things I ſay,not to all of ye,but to thoſe only
who have by their Suffrages doomed me to
death : and to thoſe I again and again pro-
claim the ſame. Ye think perhaps, Atheni-
nians, that I have loſt my
And rejoyceth in cauſe for want of words,by
the Juſtice of his
cauſe
, and of his de which I might have incli-
fense.
ned you to approve of my
defenſe, had I reſolved to leave nothing in
this matter unalledged, that I might eſcape
puniſhment ; but 'tis not ſo. I have loſt
my cauſe indeed for want, not of words, but
of boldneſs and impudence, and that I was
unwilling to ſpeak things that would have
been moſt grateful and pleaſant to your
ears : in particular, that ye might hear me
wailing, and howling, and doing and ſpeak-
ing what I think highly unworthy of me;
fuch

SOCRATES his apology. 63
ſuch as ye are accuſtomed to hear from 0-
thers. But I even then thought, I was ob-
liged to do nothing indecent and diſhoneſt,
in order to my evaſion from danger : nor
doth it now repent me, that I made my de-
fenſe in that manner. Nay I had rather die,
having made my defenſe in this manner,
than live by making it in that , [ abjectly
and poorly.] For neither
in judgement, nor in War, An honorable death
ought any man to endea- to a diſhonorable
vour to avoid death by any life.
way or means whatſoever ; for in many
Battels this is clearly evident, that death
may be eaſily avoided, if a man, throwing
away his arms, caſt himſelf a ſuppliant at the
feet of the victorious and purſuing enemy,
and begg his life. There are alſo very ma-
ny
other arts and ſhifts of declining danger
in all occurrents, and of avoiding of death;
if a man will adventure to ſay and do any
thing, [however indecent and diſhonora-
ble.] To avoid death, is not difficult, Athe-
nians: but 'tis very difficult indeed, to avoid
improbity,which runs on ſwifter than death.
And now truly I, old and ſlow, am catcht
by one that is flower [ by death: ] but my
accuſers, who are vehement and fierce, are
overtaken by that which is ſwifter, by im-
probity.

64
SOCRATES his Apology.
who had condem.
the evils to come
probity. And now I go away, by your com-
mand to ſuffer the penalty of death: but
theſe men are by truth it ſelf condemned
in the mula of improbity and injuſtice. I
ſtand to the puniſhment appointed for me :
and they ſtand to theirs. And theſe things
ought ſo to be; and they have, in my opi-
on, ſucceeded conveniently and oppor-
tunely.
Now ye who have con-
Converting his demned me, I deſire to
Speech to thoſe
fore-tel you, as by Oracle,
ned him, he predi&s the calamities that ſhall
upon them for their
come upon ye : for I am
putting an innocent now arrived at that criti-
man to death. Con cal] time, wherein men are
of which predi&i- moſt able in the faculty of
on,read Diogen, La Divining things to come ;
ertius,in vita Socra.
namely when they are dy-
ing. I ſay then, Oye men,
whoſoever ſhall put me to death, that ſoon
after my death, puniſhments ſhall overtake
ye, much more grievous than the death ye
inflict upon me: for thereby ye now deſign
to free your ſelves from the labour of gi-
ving an account of your life : but the e-
vent ſhall be altogether contrary to your
expectation, as I affirm. There ſhall riſe up
to reprove ye, many, whom hitherto I have
repreſſed,
tis.
1

SOCRATES his Apology
65
tepreſſed, nor have ye felt them: and they
ſhall ſo much the more ſeverely rebuke ye,
by how much the younger ye are; and ye
ſhall be vehemently offended even to in-
dignation. For if ye think, by killing men,
to reſtrain and keep under thoſe, who are
minded to upbraid and convince ye,
that
ye take a wrong courfe to prevent that
trouble ; and to reproach ye for your dif-
honeſt life: ye are grolly miſtakeri
. For that
way of freeing your felves, is neither fuffi-
ciently efficacious, nor honeſt: but the beſt,
moſt honorable, and eaſieſt way is this; not
to hinder others, but to render your ſelves
virtuous to the higheſt degree. Having
then thus propheſied to thoſe who have
condemned me, I leave them.
But to ye who have ab-
ſolved me, I ſhal gladly ſpeak To his Friends, he
of what hath juſt now hap- dence of happineſs
ned; while the Magiſtrates in his deith, and
ſtay here imployed in other the prefignification
thereof by his Deo
affairs , and I have a ſhort
reſpit, before I depart, to
the place where I muſt die; and for ſo ſhort
a time do ye, Athenians, expect me; for no-
thing hinders but we may ſpeak together,
while we have the liberty. To you who
are my Friends, I will declare', what is the
F
fignifica
avoWS
his confi-
monium.

66 SOCRATES bis apology.
fignification of this my diſaſter. For, Judges
(and in calling ye Judges, I do ye but right)
there hath hapned to me an accident well
worthy admiration. That preſaging and
prophetic Voice of my Dæmonium, frequent
to me at ſeveral times of my life paſt, was
wont to check and countermand me, even
in things of the leaſt moment, if I were a-
bout to enterpriſe any affair imprudently:
but now thefe Occurrents, which ye ſee,
have hapned unto me,
which any one
might imagine to be evils in extremity: and
yet that ſign of God hath not contradicted
me, neither in the morning when I came
forth, nor when I aſcended into the Pulpit
[or pleading chair] nor in my ſpeech,what-
foever I was delivering. In other ſpeeches,
it did often interrupt me: but now in this
action, it no waies oppofed me in any thing
I ſaid or did. And what do I conceive to
be the reaſon of this? I will explain it to ye.
This event (of my condemnation ) is very
happy to me. Weare not juſt Eſtimators
of things, whoever of us think death to be
an evil. Hereof, this hath been to me a
great argument ; for doubtleſs that uſual
ſign would have reſiſted me, if I had gone
about anything but what was truly good.
Thus we may with certain judgment deter-
mine

SOCRATES his Apology
67
lemma. Either all
determine of the matter. A
ſtrong hope poffeffes me, there can benothing
tis happy for me, that I am of evil in death; he
ſent to death ; for one of proves by this Di.
theſe two is abſolutely ne- fenſe is ex inguiſhed
ceſſary; Either death utterly by death; or mens
deprives us of all ſenſe, or death. If there be
by death we paſs from hencë no ſenſe, there muſt
to another place. Where- be eternal quiet; if
fore, whether all ſenſe be then there muſt be
extinguiſhed, and death be a ſtate of extreme
felicity to the Souls
like that ſleep, which fome- of good men, in the
times brings moſt calm qui- fociety of the Blefjed.
et, without the [deluding] to have borrowed
pharitaſms of Dreams good that two cdged ar-
Gods, what advantage it is gunient again't fear
to die! for I think , if any aut confumit, aut
man were obliged to take emittit ; emiſis mea
liora yeftant , onere
particular notice of, and ſet
detracto; conſumptis
apart that night, in which nihil reſtat. Epiſt.
heſlept ſo profoundly and 24.
quietly, as not to be ſenſible of any the
leaſt diſturbance from dreams; and then
comparing it with all other nights, yea and
daies too, of his whole life paſt, would ob-
ſerve, which of all thoſe nights or daies he
had paſſed more ſweetly and pleaſantly; I
am of opinion, that not only a man of pri-
vatç and humble condition, but even the
F 2
greateſt

68 SOCRATES his apology.
greateſt of Kings, would find ſuch nights to
be eaſily numerable, in compariſon of other
whether daies or nights. If then death bę
but like ſuch a ſound and undiſturbed ſleep,
I call it gain or advantage: for alltime ſeems
to be nothing more than one night. But
if it be true (as [wiſe] men have affirmed
and taught) that death is a palling hence into
thoſe places or regions, which the deceaſed
inhabit: 'tis more happy for thee, when
thou ſhalt have eſcaped from thoſe who
will have themſelves to be accounted Judg-
es, to come to thoſe who are rightly called
Judges, and who are ſaid there to fit in
judgment, Minos, and Radamanthus, and
Æacus, and Triptolemus, and all other Demi-
gods, who lived juſtly and with faith. Is ſuch
a change, ſuch a migration as this, to be va-
lued at nothing ? Then to converſe with
Orpheus, and Muſeus, and Hefiod and Homer
who of us would not prefer ſuch a ſtate of
life to that of this ? For my part, I would
die, if it were poſſible, many times over,
to find the ſatisfactions I ſpeak of. How
much ſhall I be delighted, when I ſhall meet
with Palamedes, with Ajax the Son of Tela-
and others circumvented by judgment
of unjuſt men, and compare their caſes with
my own? This, I think, will not be unplea-
(ant
mon,

SOCRATES his apology. 69
fant: but this will be moſt pleaſảnt, there al-
ſo to find one who examines and tries every
one who is wiſe ; and who thinks himſelf
wiſe, but is not ſo: how much rather, Judg-
es, will a man find out him, who brought
a numerous Army againſt Troy, or Uliſſes,
or Syſiphus, or very many others both men
and Women? with whom fieely to talk
and converſe , to compare opinions, and
make inquiries is a thing of vaſt and infinite
wiſdom. And yet they who are there, are
not put to death for ſo doing; and are in
many other reſpects far happier than theſe
our Citizens, and for ever after immortal:
if at leaſt thoſe things that are ſaid [ of the
ſtate of the Soul after death] be true.
But it becomes you alſo,
This he ſaith,not
Oye Judges, to conceive
from doubt, but
noble hopes of death and to from thefuppofition
be fully perſwaded in your
of the people with
whom he had then
minds of the verity of this, to do. For,as to hią
that nothing of evill can e own perfwa fion, he
ver come to a good man, nei- firm and certain, as
held" nothing fo
ther living nor dead: and the immortality of
that his concerns are never
mens minds or ſouls.
With the ſame cau-
neglected by the Gods. Nor tion Seneca
ſaich; do fortale (
modo sapientum vera fama eſt, recipita; nos locus aliquis )
quem putamne perife,premiſſus eſt. Epiſt, 63.
have
alto
E 3,

70 SOCRATES his Apology.
D
have theſe things hapned to me by chance:
but certain and evident it is to me, that to
die, and to be freed from buſineſſes, is better
and more conducible to me. And for this
reaſon, that Divine ſign hath not at all aver-
ted me: Nor am I'angry either with my
Judges who condemned me, or with my
Accuſers; though they condemned and ac-
cuſed me not with deſign to render my con-
dition more happy and tranquill ; but
thinking thereby to bring ſome great in-
commodity or calamity upon me; wherein
I have juſt cauſe to complain of them. But
this only I begg of them ,
In fine he recoma-
mends to his Judges that if my sons, when they
the tuition of his are grown up, be trouble-
Sons ; with this re- ſome to them in the ſame
queft , ** that they
might be inſtru&ed matters wherein I have
rather to ſeek after diſquieted and offended
virtue,than ro accu-
mulate riches. them, they would ſeverely
puniſh them: chiefly if they
ſeem to take more care either of riches, or
the like [tranſitory] thing, than of virtues
they ſeem to be ſomething, when they are
nothing; I would have yė reprehend and
convince them, as I have reprehended you:
if they neglect things neceſſary, to be ſoli-
citous about things unneceſſary, and pre-
tend to be what they are not; ſharply re-
prove

SOCRATES his apology. ZI
prove them. Which if ye ſhall do, both I
and mySons ſhal obtain from you a juſt and
lawful benefit. But 'tis now time to de-
part ; I to my death, ye to life ; and whe-
ther of the two is better, I think is known
only to God.
The End of Socrates his Apology.
AXIOMS MORAL.
Collected out of Socrates his Apology.
1.
odge is t
"A
not
>
Judge is to conſider
the Elegancy, but Truth of
what is ſaid before him.
2. The good Education of Youth,
is of very great Importance to the
Common-wealth.
3. Humane wiſdom is not to be
much valued . becauſe God alone is
truly wiſe ; and among men,he only
deſerves to be reputed wiſe, who con-
ſcious of his own ignorance, profel-
ſeth
F 4

72
AXIOMS.
ſeth to know nothing certainly, but
that he knows nothing.
4.
The Station and Office that
God hath afligned to us in this Life,
we are to defend and maintain, tho
we thereby incur the greateſt incom-
modities and dangers : and we ought
to have no conſideration either of
death, or any other terror, when
Shame and Diſhonour is to be avoi-
ded. Nor are thoſe things to be fea-
red, which we do not certainly know
to be Evil : but only thoſe which we
do certainly know to be Evil, name-
ly not to obey the Commands of
God, and to do unjuſtly.
5. To be converſant in Affairs of
State, is full of dan-
* A precepr deli,
vered alſo by Epicua ger.
ήμι, ου πολιτευ-
6. It is both indecent
publicam accefarum and unjuſt
, for Judges
Sapientem, and in
culcated even by Cicero himſelf ; omnia fuâ caufà facere
ſapientes; Remp. capeſſere hominem ngn oportere, &c. Orat.öra
Geria, non ad rem
Sext,

AXIOMS.
73
to be moved and ſeduced by the
Charms of Eloquence or Tears : for
they ought to be [.úcsgoodwóduotoi do
&Tradis] no reſpecters of perſons, and
without paſſion: and ſo to give judg-
menţ, not from their owit affections,
but from the merit of the Canſe, and
according to Lam.
7. An honorable Death is alwaies
to be preferred to a diſhonorable
Life.
8. Since God takes care of human
Affairs, and chiefly of Good men: no
Evil can come to Good men, neither
living nor dead.
9. We are not to be immoderate-
ly angry with our Enemies, nor to
hate them, although guilty of Crimes
againſt us, and certainly to ſuffer the
puniſhments reſerved for them, but

PHEDON,
A DIALOGUE
Concerning the
Immortality of Mans Rational Soul.
AND
Admirable Conſtancy of SOCRATE
at his Death.
oldcocodile
P
The ARGU MENT
Out of SERRANUS. ici
Son
LATO here introdnceth Phedo, rea
counting to Echeerates, the philoſo-
phical Diſcourſes delivered by Socra-
tes, the very day wherein he ſuffered death by
a draught of poyſon: wherein he ſhoewed both
his invincible magnanimity in embracing
death with perfect tranquility of mind; and
bis most certain perſwafion of the immortality
of the Rational Soul. By this eminent Ex-
ample then, and from the mouth of that true
Hero at that time encountring that Gyant
of

DE the Soul.
75
of Terrors, death (when the judgment and
Sayings of men much inferior to Socrates , in
point of wiſdom, are commonly reputed Ora-
culous ) Plato proves the Humane Soul to be
immortal and declares his opinion concerning
the state and condition thereof, after its ſepara-
tion from the body.
The Theſis therefore, or capital deſign of
this Dialogue, ſeems to be two-fold: firſt to
evince, that death ought to be contemned;
and then that the Soul is, by the prerogative
of its nature exempt from the power of
death. And from the latter, as the more no-
ble and auguſt part, the whole Dia'ogue bor-
rows its Title [ regi tuxñs] de Animo , of the.
Soul.
The Contents thereof are partly moral; im
that it teaches the contempt of death, and con-
ſtant adherence to virtue ; partly Metaphyſi-
cal, or Theological; for that it treats of the
excellency of the Soul, and of God. To theſe
are added alſo Ornamental parts, viz. a de-
cent Introduction, and accurate Narration of
the remarkable manner and circumſtances of
Socrates his death.
of theſe ſo various parts, the Oeconomy of
Order is conciſely this. Some Philoſophers,
Friends to Socrates, viſiting him in the pri-
fon, the last day of his life, and talking fami-
liarly

76
PHEDO, 02
liarly together : the clue of their conference
soon leads them to this uſeful queſtion ; Whe-
ther a wiſe man ought to fear death? Of
this , Socrates first diſputing with leſs cogent
Reaſons , and tranſiently determining that
other doubt, Whether it be lawful for a man
to kill himſelf? opportunely, and after his
grave way of arguing,refumes Guproceeds inthe
former enquiry about deſpiſing death. Concern-
ing which the funame of his reaſoning is this.
Since the principal duty of a Philoſopher is,
daily to meditate upon Death, i.e. to with-
draw and divide his Mind or Soul from his
body, and the exorbitant de fires thereof, and
death is defined to be only a ſeparation of the
Soul from the Body) and that after this frail
and mortal life is at an end, there remains a
full and ſolid felicity to be enjoyed by thoſe
who have here truly and ſincerly embraced the
Study of Wiſdom: there is no reaſon why he
fhould fear death, but good cauſe rather why he
pould wiſh and long for it: becauſe being
thereby freed and ſecured from all importune
and inſatiable lušřs of the body,wherewith the
Soul is here intangled and fettered; he ſaould
inſtantly paſs to a fecond and better life, and
therein attain to a full and perfect knowledg of
Wiſdom which he now remonftrates, he moſt
afjuredly expected to enjoy immediatly after
his

Df the Sout.
77
his death, and fo, his body being diſſolved, to
become confummately happy: So from the con-
fequence of this concluſion, there naturally av
riſeth a new diſpute, about the Souls ſurviving
the Body. For, if the Soul exist not after
death, all differtation concerning future feli-
city or infelicity, muſt be vain and ab-
ſurd.
of this moſt important conference about the
immortality of the Soul, there are three parts:
One poſitively aſſerts the soul to be eſentially
immortal : the Second refutes the contrary
opinions : the Third teaches the uſe and ad-
vantages of the belief of the Souls immor-
tality.
The FIRST part then of thisexcellent Do-
&rine of Plato ( and of Socrates too, from
whom he ſeems to have learned it) concerning
the Souls immortality, is Apodićtical or De-
monſtrative. And yet be ſo prudently and
circumfpectly manages his forces, as to begin
the combat with a Forlorn of lighter Reafons;
and then bring up as it were a phalanx of
Stronger and more preſſing arguments to aſſure
the Victory: which indeed is his proper and
peculiar method of convincing. His lighter
Reafons he advances, partly from the Doctrine
of the Pythagoreans, of the tranſmigrati-
on of Souls into new bodies, which they cal-
led

98
PHEDO, 02
led Merepe lixãour] Tranſanimation, and
[metellowultativ ] Tranſcorporation: partly
from his private conceipt, that knowledge is
but memory, and to learn only to remember.
From theſe opinions (I fay) conjoyn'd into one
complex argument, he concludes, firſt that the
Soul was existent by it ſelf, before it came to
be gueſt or inmate to the body; and then that
the ſame will exist alſo apart, when ſeparated
from that its Lodging or Inne, and is therefore
immortal. His more ſolid and Nervous ar:
güments, by which he more accurately and con-
vincingly demonſtrates the Souls eternal ſubſi-
Aence, are drawn from the very effence of the
Soul it felf, viz. that being ſimple or void of
compoſition, it muſt by neceſſary conſequence be
alſo indiſſoluble or incapable of deſtruction.
For, preſuming it to be made after the Exem-
plar or Image of God, who is Simple, Pure,
Immutable, Inviſible : he thence infers, that
the Soul is (avyzev ni quoyevn] congenial and
homogenial to God, i.e. likewiſe uncompound,
inviſible, immortal: in fine, that it is ( ſuo
tamen modo) of the ſame nature with the Su-
pream Being, which he calls tò Žv, && T'«-
gad.V, GUTÓ TÒ xahồr, that is God. Hence he
concludes, that though the Soul, while obliged
to ſojourn in the Body, be neceſſitated to uſe the
miniſtry and ſervice of its various Organszand
sa

DE the Soul.
19
fo be neerly affedted with the paſſions and other
alterations incident thereunto, by reaſon of the
cloſe conjunction betwixt them: yet notwith-
Standing, upon the diſſolution of that ligue or
conjunction, it doth inſtantly fly away,and rea
turn to that its primary and cognate Idea,
God : in the mean time štill conferving its
own ſimple, incorruptible nature. And this is
the ſubſtance of the firſt part of this fublime
diſpute.
The SECOND is a Refutation of Opinions
impugning the immortality of the soul: which
are chiefly two; One, that affirms the Soul to
be an Harmony, that is originally compoſed,
and reſulting from the conformation and fi-
ſtem of the corporeal ſenſes: and therefore as
it hath its beginning from, ſo it must alſo pe-
riſh together with the body. Another, which
allows the Soul to be indeed more laſting than
the Body, and ſo to furvive it; yet will not
have it to be indiffoluble, but to decay by de-
grees, and at lengthutterly to periſh, from its
opon natural weakneſs
. This laſt Error Plato,
in the perſon of Socrates, ſolidly refutes ; fur-
ther alledging, that the Immortality of the
Soul is clearly manifeſt even from the true no-
tion of Cauſes, i.e. of a Primary cauſe,
namely God; and of Second or proxim cau-
fes, by right reaſon duly inveſtigated. Where
be

80 PHEDO, 02
he opportunely evinceth it to be highly unreaſo
nable, ſo to acquiefce in the re-ſearch of Je-
cond cauſes, as to relinquiſh the first and prin-
cipal: and then proceeds to teach, that there
are two kindes of Cauſes; oře, principal, or
Supreme, and in truth cauſe of all Cauſes,
which gavé both being and efficacy to all o
thers; Others, Secondary, which are not truly
[álo] Cauſes, but only [{uvoulou] Adjuvants,
impowred, diſpoſed, and regulated by the firſt,
all ſuch as God hath made ſubordinate to him-
Self, to the end that the virtue and energy of
his power might extend even tous. From the
Reaſons therefore of theſe different Cauſes, Pla-
to infers the Soul to be immortal. whence by
a genuine tranſition, he proceeds to the
THIRD part of the Diſputation or Confe-
rence, which concerns the ſtate or condition
of the Soul, after this faddom of life is vaniſh-
edor ( as he ſaith ) apud inferos; thereby una
derſtanding [Méutegov Biov.] a ſecond Life,
whereof he treats more amply in Timæo ; in
this arguing thus. Seeing that in this tumul-
tuous Life, there every day ariſe infinite di for-
ders in Humane affairs, and events apparent-
ly inconſiſtent with Equity and Juſtice; ſo
that good and pious men ſuffer various affli-
tions and oppreſſions; and on the contrary,
unrighteous and impious men flouriſh in de-
lights

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 81
lights and proſperity: reaſon requires that af-
ter this ſcene of Inequality is withdrawn, after
this Life ( the riſe whereof is in common to all
men, both good and evil) is expired, there
ſhould ſucceed another, wherein is to be made
a just distinction of the good from the bad,
that ſo theſe may be adjudged to condign
puniſhment, and thoſe rewarded with felicity,
according to their deſerts. And hence he collects,
that there are but two paths wherein áll Mor:
tals walk: One leading to eternal happineſs,
the other to endleſ miſery. Thus much this
our wiſe Ethnic plainly diſcerned by the meer
light of nature , by right reaſon: more he could
not perceive without rayes of light fupernatu-
ral. We are not therefore to arraign him of
ignorance , but rather to applaud his fingular
modesty, in that in the cloſe of his diſcourſe
about rewards and puniſhments after death, he
adventures up on no conje&tural deſcriptions of
the places,qualities,degrees, &c. of either : but
leaving all ſuch to Poets ingeniouſly profeſſeth,
he thought it not to be the part of a man endom-
ed with ſound Judgment, to affirm any thing
concerning thoſe inſcrutable ſecrets, and re-
ferves of Divine Juſtice. Only he held it ne-
ceſary, that the minds of men be deeply im-
bued with eſtabliſhed and certain perſwafions
of rewards and puniſhments to come: that
G
fo

82 PHEDO, Dr of the Soul.
ſo they may be inflamed with love of Virtue,
which he defines to be the true and only way to
future felicity ; and reclaimed from Vice, the
high way to future infelicity. And this be
declares to be the uſe and advantage of his
Do&trine of the Souls immortality: namely,
that we may be induced to learn, and aſſidu-
ouſly follow the way that leads to that happy
life ; and carefully avoid that of miſery. The
former he defines to be true and ſolid know-
ledg of Wiſdom: the Noblest part whereof is
this
, that Divorcing and Alienating our mind
from all commerce with corporeal affe&tions,
and fenfual pleaſures ; we fix it intirely upon
the contemplation of God, and hold it per-
petually exerei fed in that Divine Medita-
tion.
This being the great duty of man, and moſt
ſatisfactory imployment of a Reaſonable Souls
he opportunely admoniſheth every one, to make
- it alſo his principal care and ſtudy, to be dili-
gently converſant therein: alwaies animating
himſelf with this nobleſt of hopes that after the
ſhort and anxious race of this life is finiſhed,
he ſhall infallibly attain unto that immortal
Happineſs, of which he hath now diſcourſed.
Ard to fringe this his long Web of speculations
Philoſophical, with a grateful reflection upon
the Heroic Virtues of his martyrd Master,
Socrates;

PHEDO, D? of the Soul. 83
Socrates ; after a conciſe Hiſtorical Narra-
tion of the manner and circumstances of his
Death; he concludes with this glorious chas
ratter of him ; that notwithſtanding he had
been oppreſſed and Condemned by the envy
and inhumanity of the Athenians, he was
in truth the Wileſt, and moſt Virtuous of all
Man-kind.
a G
G · PHE-

84
000000000000000
P H E D 0 N.
Perſons of the Dialogue;
Echecrates, Phedon, Apollodorus, So-
crates, Cebes, Simmias, Crito, Ex-
ecutioner.
The Proem wherein
Checrat. Were you,
Plato,obſerving the
Decorum proper to
Phedon preſent
with
Dialogues, and by
nato ral conſequence
Socraies, that very
of the diſcourſe, lec• day wherein he drank the
ding the mind to his
poyſon in the Priſon? or
grand argument
here diſcuſſed. firſt have you heard it from
recounts the circum ſome other?
ftances that are per.
tinent thereunto,
Phe. I was then preſent,
viz. when Socrates Echecrates.
was put to death,
wobo were then pre.
Ech. And what ſaid that
fent and upon what [ brave] man before his
occafion this Diſpute death? what end made he?
concerning the Soul
aroſe..
for that I would willingly
hear. But yet none of the Phliaſians hath
of late gone to Athens, nor any ſtranger
come

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
85
come from thence to us, who could relate
any thing of certainty concerning theſe
matters; only they report him to be dead
by å draught of poyſon ; but nothing
more.
Phe. Have ye not heard what men ſaid
of his Judgement , how that was ordered
and managed ?
Ech. That we have indeed heard; for a
certain man gave us a narration thereof:
But this ſeemed wonderfully ſtrange to us,
that his arraignment and condemnation be-
ing paſt a good while ſince, he ſhould be re-
ported to ſuffer death after ſo long a reſpit.
What was the reaſon of this, Phedo ?
Phe. A certain accident intervened,Eche-
crates; it hapned, that the very next day af-
ter Judgment had been given upon him, the.
ſtern of the ſacred ſhip, which the Athenians
annually ſend to Delos, was with uſual pomp
and ſolemnity Crown'd.
Ech. What Ship is that?
Phe. That wherein (as the Athenians ſay)
Theſeus long ago brought thoſe fourteen
young men into Crete, and ſaved both them
and himſelf: and they then made a Vow (as
the tradition goes) that if they returned in
ſafety, they would yearly celebrate a Feaft,
and offer Sacrifice to Apollo in Delos, in me-
niory
G3

86 PHEDO, D! of the Sotil.
mory of their preſervation, which they call
beagixv, the Sacrifice of Inſpection,and every
year Solemnize,by ſending that ſhip thither.
Now when they have begun the celebra-
tion of this Feaſt of Inſpection, 'tis by law
provided, that the City be in the mean time
expiated, and no man put to death by pub-
lic decree, until the Ship hath been at Delos,
and is returned home again : in which Voy-
age ſometimes long time is ſpent, eſpecially
when they meet with contrary Winds. The
beginning of this Inſpection is, when the
Prieſt of Apollo crowns the ſtern of the ſhip:
and this fell out to be performed upon the
very day wherein (as I ſaid ) Judgment was
given upon Socrates. Which is the reaſon
why ſo long a time intervened betwixt his
condemnation and death; he being all that
while kept in priſon.
Ech. But what of his death, Phedon?what
were his ſpeeches and actions ? were any
of his Kindred and Friends with him? did
the Magiſtrates permit them to be preſent,
or died he alone, deprived of their com-
pany?
Phe. They did permit them: ard there
were with him ſome, yea many of his
Friends.
Ech. Well then, I pray, do your devoir
to

PHEDO, D, of the Soul.
87
to recount us the whole matter fully and
plainly ; if at leaſt your leiſure will per-
mit.
The. I have leiſure, and will endeavour
to give ye the beſt account I can', of all palm
ſages. For to remember Socrates, and to
ſpeak my ſelf, or hear another ſpeak of him,
is the moſt delightful entertainment in the
world,
Ech. And you ſhall find us allo, Phedon,
in the ſame manner affected and diſpoſed to
hear you. Wherefore go on, and do your
beſt to relate the whole ſtory.
Phe. Truly being then preſent, I was affe-
Eted in a very ſtrange manner: For commi-
feration moved me not at all, as being pre-
fent at the death of a man nearly Related
to me: For to me he ſeemed happy, Eche-
crates, both by his deportment, and by his
ferene conformity, and alſo by his diſcour-
ſes: ſo undauntedly and bravely he ſubmit-
ted to death, that it then came into my mind
that he deſcended not to the ſhades below,
without ſome Divine power, and therefore
would when he came thither, live in happi-
neſs, if ever åný man elſe did. I did not then
much pitty him, as became one that was ſpe-
Etator of ſo fad and doleful a Tragedy: nor
was I on the other ſide ſenſible of that plea-
fure
G4

88 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
ſure, wherewith we were wont to be affe-
Eted, when we were ſeriouſly imployed in
Philoſophical conferences, though at that
very time alſo we were earneſtly occupied
in fuch: but was variouſly agitated by a
diſagreeable and contrary paſſion. A certain
unuſual pleaſure mixt with grief, ſurpriſed
me, thinking he was ſo ſoon to die. And all
we who were preſent, felt the ſame confuſi-
on of oppoſite affections, now ſmiling, now
weeping, eſpecially Apollodorus: you know
the man, and his manners. 150W
Eſch. I know him well. 21. eta
Phe. In this manner was he then diſpoſed:
but truly I and others were perturbed.
Elch. Who were there, Phedon?
is phe. Ofour Citizens', there were this
Apollodorus, and Critobulus, and his Father
Crito: Hermogenes alfo, and Epigenes, and
Æſchines, and Antiſthenes, with Cteſippus
the Pæanian, and Menexenus and ſome other
of the Natives: but Plato, I think, was
fick d daily
61 Ech. Were there any ſtrangers with
him? BOS
citas
n Phe. There were. Simmias the Theban,
and Cebes, and Phedonides : and Euclid, and
Terpſion, Megarenſians.
Éch. What was not Ariſtăppus there, and
Cleombrotus?
Phe.

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
89
Phe. Nog 'twas ſaid, they were in Ægi-
Ech. Was any other there?
Phe. Thoſe whom I have named, were
all.
Ech. Well, what diſcourſes paſſed among
them?
Phe. I will endeavour to recount to ye
all that paſſed from firſt to laſt. In the daies
precedent, I and ſome others were wont to
viſit Socrates frequently : meeting toge-
ther early in the morning, in the Judgment
Hall, where his cauſe had been tried, for it
ſtood next to the priſon. There we daily
expected, until the priſon doors were ope-
ned ; paſſing the time in walking and talk-
ing together the while, for 'twas pretty
late before the priſon was opened. When
the doors were unlocked, we went in to
Socrates, and many times paſſed the whole
day with him. On the day of his Suffer-
ing, we came to viſit him fearlier than we
uſed : for the day before, when we retired
from the priſon in the evening, we had
heard, that the ſacred ſhip was arrived from
Delos: and thereupon agreed among our
ſelves to come to Socrates ſooner than our
cuſtom was, and indeed we did fo: but the
Door-keeper, who formerly uſed to obey
us,

90 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
us, came forth, and bid us have patience a
while, nor to enter till he called us. For now
(faith he) the Eleven Officers are taking off
Socrates his Fetters having commanded that
he Die this day. So after a ſhort ſtay, he
returned, and gave us admittance : Being
entred, we found Socrates unfettered, and
Xantippe (whom you know) holding an In-
fant in her arms, and fitting by Socrates. Ha-
ving ſeen, and ſaluted us, and ſaid ſome ſuch
things as Women uſe to ſpeak ( out of ci-
vility]now Socrates, faith ſhe, this is the laſt
time your Friends ſhall ſpeak to you , and
you to them: and he turning his eyes upon
Crito, I deſire Crito, ſaid he that one of you
would lead away this Woman into ſome
other place. Her therefore weeping and
lamenting, the Servants of Crito led away.
But Socrates ſitting upon a little Bed, with,
one legg reſting upon his other thigh, rub-
bed his legg, ſaying the while; how abſurd
dos that ſeem, which men
Socrates, upon oc- call pleaſant! and how won-
cafion of the plea; derfully ſtrange is the na-
leggs, foon after his ture of whats unpleaſant, ſo
ken off reft ås upon as to be perceived contra-
the affinity betwixt
pleaſure and pain, and their viciſſitude ; intimating, that the
condition of human life is ſuch, as to be led in a round of
pleaſure and pain alternately ſucceeding.
ry
Ferters had been ta-

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 91
ry to what's pleaſant ! ſo that nature would
not have a man affected with both at once;
but if any man purſue, and take one of
them, he is compelled for the moſt part to
take the other alſo ; as if they were both
fitly contained in one head; and I believe
that Æſop, if he had taken notice of the
thing, would have compoſed a Fable of it,
namely, that God, when he attempted to re-
concile theſe two Enemies, Pleaſure and
Pain, making War each againſt other, but
could not effect it, bound their heads toge-
ther, ſo that where either comes, the other
alſo muſt follow, as ſeemed to me even now;
for while my Fetters were upon my leggs, I
had pain there and the pain vaniſhing away
upon the remove of my Fetters, pleaſure
ſeems immediatly to ſucceed it. And you
have opportunely put me in mind of this,
anſwered Cebes, by fove,Socrates; for a good
while ſince many have asked me, and Eve-
nus lately, concerning the Poems you have
of late made, particularly the Fables of
Æſop, you have turned into Verſes, and a
Hymn to Apollo : for what reaſon you com-
poſed thoſe Poems,ſince you came into this
place, when you never before addicted
your ſelf to Poetry. If therefore you will
have me give an anſwer to Evenus, when he
ſhall

92 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
admoniſhed
ſhall again interrogate me ( as I am confi-
dent he will) tell me, I pray, what anſwer
I ſhall make to him. Tell him, repliesso-
crates, the truth, Cebes: that
Another occaſional
I have done this, not out
refle&ion touching
fome poetical Ej of deſign to emulate him
Saies made by Sa- and his Writings, (for that
time of his im pri- I know would be extream-
fonmentzwhereofhe ly difficult) but to make tri-
gives this reaſon,
that having been by al, what might be the ſenſe
Dreams frequently of ſome Dreams, and to
to know if they injoynd me
learn Muſic; and be-
ther the muſic of often heretofore in my life,
ing doubtful, whe- this kind of Muſic. For very
philoſophy, to which
he had alwaies ftu- the ſame Dream occurred
diouſly addi&ed
me; when appearing to
himſelf, or that of
poetry were thereby me ſometimes in this, ſome
meant , he thought times in that figure or re-
it his duty, before
his departure, to preſentation, it ſtill inculca-
compofe Verſes,leſt ted to me the ſame thing :
he might offend, by alwaies ſaying, ſtudy Mufic
omitting "to fulfil
that Divine com- Socrates and practiſe it. And
mand in this ſenſe I thought what I did in the
paſt time of my life, to be
the very thing that
my
Dream commanded,
and by reiterated Injunctions urged: and
as they who by repeated ſhouts incite men
running a race, ſo I thought my Dream did
the ſame to me, by frequent admonitions
inculca-
to
alio.

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
93
inculcating its command, that I ſhould ap-
ply my ſelf to Muſic; for as much as Philo-
ſophy is the nobleſt and moſt excellent Mua
fic. While I did this and ſentence of death
had now been pronounced againſt me, and
the Feaſt of Apollo forbad me to die: I
thought fit by no means to diſobey the in-
junction of my Dream, even though I inter-
preted it to concern the vulgar Muſic: but
to do according to the preſcript thereof.
For I thought it ſafer , not to depart from
hence, before I had in that manner allo, to
fome degree performed my Vow; obeying
my Dream, by making Verſes. The firit
Poem I made therefore, was to that God
whoſe Feaſt this was. * Af-
ter that devout care of * The beginning of
this Hymn. Diogen.
God, conceiving it decent
Laertius recites, in
for a Poet, if he ought to vita Socrat.
be reputed worthy of that
name, to compoſe Fables,not Orations; and
being my ſelf unskilful in the art of inven-
ting Fables: Itherefore made an Eſſay up-
on the Fables of Æſop, which I had by me,
and knew, of thoſe that firſt came to
hand.
This, Cebes, I would have
you report to Evenus: and following diſpute
,
The occaſion of the
wiſh him health, bidding deduced naturally
him
1

94 PHEDO; D2 of the Soul.
low me
Hence are ſtarted
a crime? and how a
death? Now this
Evenus was
a Sos
from the clue of the him , if he be wiſe, to fole
conference. Let Eve
xus folfow me (faith
for I go hence, as
3
Socrates) in death; I think, this very day, the
philosopher, he ought Athenians ſo commanding.
neither to kill him Here Simmias interrupts
ſelf norto feardeath.
him, ſaying, what advice is
two Queſtionr;Whe: that, Socrates , you give to
ther Selfemurder be Evenus ? I have had con-
philoſopherſtands ob- verſation with him a long
ligad not to fear time, but as much as I can
fore-ſee, he will not be ve-
phift, fond of the ry forward to follow your
life, and an adverfa counſel in this particular.
rý to the Do&rine What, faith Socrates, is not
therefore fic to be Evenus a Philoſopher? He
anſwered by him ſeems to be one, replies
thus ironically, after Simnias : and therefore
Socrates.;
faithSocrates, he & whoever
elſe embraceth the ſtudy of
Philoſophy, as he ought , will not decline
death, and yet will not think himſelf ob-
liged to lay violent hands upon himſelf; for
this they ſay, is no wajes lawful. And ſay:
ing this, he let down his leggs from the lit-
tle Bed to the ground, and ſitting in that
poſture, purſued the remainder of his diſ
courſe. Cebes asked him then , what ſay
you, Socrates ? that it is a crime for a man
to lay violent hands upon himſelf; and yet
that
of Socrates ;
and
the uſual manner of

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
95
have ye,you
that a Philoſopher is willing to follow him
who dies? To whom Socrates; what, Cebes?
and Simmias , heard nothing
concerning theſe matters, after ſo familiar
converſation with Philolaus? Nothing, so-
crates, I aſſure you. What I have heard, it
will not be ungrateful to me to recount,ſec-
ing nothing ſeems more agreeable to him
who is ready to ſet forth towards ſome
place, than to meditate upon, and ſpeak of
what concerns either his Journey, or the
condition he expects to be in at the end of
it, ſuch as we are able to conceive before-
hand: and of what Subject can we more
uſefully diſcourſe, until the ſetting of the
Sun? Now as for what they ſay, that it is
criminal to kill ones ſelf; that indeed I have
long ſince heard, not only from Philolaus
(as you asked me ) when he lived among
us, but from ſome others alſo, that it is a ne-
farious act : but whyit ſhould be ſuch, I
have underſtood nothing of certainty from
any. But be of good cou-
rage (replies Socrates ]per- whether self-murder
The firſt queſtion,
haps you ſhall hear the rea- be criminal, or not
ſon by and by. Mean while argued Socratically,
that is pro and con;
and then determinedby theſe two fundamental reaſons;God
takes care of us; and we are his by right of poffeſion; there?
tore tis double impiery to lay violent hands upon our
ſelves.
this

96 PHEDO, Øl of the Soul.
this perchance may ſeem ſtrange, that this
among other things ſhould be univerſally
true, without exception; that no calamity
car befal a man ſo great and intollerable,as
that it may be better for him to die, than to
live : and to men in ſuch a caſe, is it incon-
venient to affirm, that it is impiety in them,
rather to confer this benefit upon themi-
felves, than to expect it from the hand of a-
nother ? And Cebes gently ſmiling, be it
known to Jove, ſaid he in his own Dialect,
you
have ſaid well. So
*11W Zeus, pro it feems, faith Socrates, to
25H ZEUS.
be inconſiſtent with reaſon.
That darkfom and abſtruſe ſpeech which is
carried about concerning this matter , viz.
that we men are placed in a certain ſtation
and guard, from which we ought not upon
any pretext whatever to free our ſelves, nor
to abandon our charge, ſeems to me to be
truly great, and ſuch as cannot eaſily be
underſtood and comprehended : and yet
notwithſtanding I conceive it to be very
truly ſaid, Cebes , that both God takes care
of us, and that we are his poſſeſſion. Do not
you conceive ſoʻtoo,Cebes? I do indeed, ſaith
Cebes. But, faith he, if any one of your
Naves ſhould kill himſelf, without your
command, would you be angry with him,
árid

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul:
97
both Despots,
men ,
or
and
and if it were in your power, revenge it?
I would, ſaith Socrates : and therefore this
alſo ſeems grounded upon no leſs reaſon;
that no man ought to be author of his own
death, before God hath brought ſome ab-
ſolute neceſſity upon him , ſuch as he hath
now impoſed upon us.
This alſo ſeems conſenta Coming here to
the ſecond Query,
nious, faith Cebes. But in viz. whether à Phie
good truth, what you ſaid lofopher ought to den,
even now,that Philoſophers Thews reaſons for
are eaſily inclined to die, the Negative, viz.
ſeems next to abfurd: if that the Gods are
what we have here ſaid, be Lords of
ſaid conſentaneouſly, name- gracious or good
Lords to good men;
ly, that God takes care of trgº, good mer
us, and we belong to him, ought not to defire
deach; it being evie
as a Free-hold and certain denr and confeft,
poffeffion. For to affirm, that all are to defire
that even the wiſeſt of men fruition of good
are not diſpleaſed and trou- things; and he aſſu-
bled in the leaſt, when they main with the Gods,
ming that we re
depart from this procura- ſolong as weremain
tion and truſt which the in this life.Wherein
lieth concealed a
beſt Lords and Guardians paraſyllogifmo for in
of things, the Gods , com- truth, while we live
mitted unto them ; ſeems were pilgrims from
here, we are as ic
in no meaſure agreeable God, as Socrates will
to reaſon. For that Wiſe ftrate.
in due place remon-
H
to continue in the
man

98 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
man thinks not, that if he ſhould be at his
own liberty and diſpoſe, he can provide
better for himſelf than God doth: but a
fool will think, that he is to fly from his
Lord; nor will he think he ought to fly
from a good thing, but conſtantly to conti-
nue therein; and ſo he flies away, without
any fore-going knowledg of reaſon. But a
prudent and circumſpect man will rather
deſire to continue ſtill in that which is more
advantageous and profitable to him, which
certainly, Socrates, ſeems plainly repugnant
to thoſe things that have been by us juſt
now explicated; and yet it appears to be
more like truth, that wiſe men when they
die, ought to be troubled; and fools to re-
joyce. This Socrates hearing , ſeemed to
me to be highly pleaſed with that fübrile
diſquiſition of Cebes ; and turning his eyes
upon us, Cebes, faith he, alwaies hunts after
ſome [amuſing] reaſons; nor will he pre-
fently give aflent to what is ſaid by any
But I alſo, ſaith Simmias, am in this
point of the ſame opinion with Cebes. For
when Wiſe men deſire death, what elſe do
they propoſe to themſelves, than to fly from
Lords better than themſelves, and to be
freed from them? And Cebes ſeems to me
to aim his diſcourſe at you, who can ſo ea-
man.
fily

PHEDO, D# of the Soul.
99
prove,
that death is
fily relinquiſh both us, and the Gods, ( as
your ſelf confeſſes) the beſt Lords. Ye have
reaſon, ſaith Socrates; for I think ye require
me to make my defenſe before ye, as in the
Judgment-hall
. We do fo, faith Simmias.
Well then, ſaith he, I will endeavour to des
fend my ſelf with more convenient and
more probable Arguments before ye, than
before my Judges. For I *
* Socrates going to
faith he, Simmias and Cebes,
if I did not think I ſhould not only not to be
come , firſt to other Gods feared, but alſo with
ed by aPhiloſopher;
wiſe and good, and then to layeth down the
men deceaſed, better than fundamentals of his
fứcure probacion,apa
thoſe who are here: truly plying the matter to
I ſhould do very ill, not to himſelf
; namely,that
be offended and troubled
was ſuſtained by
a ftedfaſt hope, that
at my death: but now (be- afterdeath, helhould
lieve me ) I am confident on
Göds, but to them:
I ſhall come to good men. becauſe there re
This (I confeſs) I will not mains ſomething af-
rer death,and it will
poſitively affirm: but if I be well with good
affirm any thing for certain, men. Which are he
it ſhall be this, that I ſhall ſubſequent diſputa-
come to Gods, the beſt tion, viz. that our
Lords. And this is the and cha felicity is
Souis äre immortal,
true reaſon why I am not at reſerv.d for good
all diſcompoſed or troubled, Souls after death.
but ſuſtain my ſelf with a ſtrong hope, tha,
H 2
fome,
he
not from che

100 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
ſomething remains in reſerve for the dead
after death; and as they long ago ſaid, that
it will be much better with good men, than
with wicked. What then, faith Simmias?
ſince relying upon this cogitation, you have
a mind to depart, will you not communicate
to us the cauſe of it ? for that ſeems to be
a good common to us alſo , and if you ſhall
convince us of the truth of what you ſay,
that will be alſo your full defenſe. I will
endeavour it, ſaith Socrates: but firſt let us
ſee what Crito here would have. What elſe
ſhould I deſire to ſay to you, Socrates, an-
fwered Crito, but this, that a good while
ſince, the man who is to give the poyſon to
you, bad us advertiſe you, that you ought
to ſpeak very ſparingly; becauſe much fpca-
king puts men into a heat, and therefore
ought not to precede the poyſon: for that
from thence it may come to paſs, that the
draught of poyfon muſt be repeated twice
or thrice. Wilh him good health, ſaith So-
crates ; let him take care only of what be-
longs to his own duty[and provide enough]
as if he were to give the doſe twice, and if
need be, thrice. This I knew before, an-
ſwers Crito ; but the Fellow hath been
troubleſom to me a good while: ſuffer him
faith he. But I will render an account to
ye

PHEDO, D2 of the Soutl.
IOI
ye, my Judges, by what right I became por
feſſed of that my opinion, that he who truly
and ſeriouſly addicts himſelf to Philoſophy,
or the love of wiſdom, doth die with undaunted
courage, and ſtedfaſt reſolution, furniſhed with
that noble hope , that immediatly after his
death, he shall certainly attain unto the grea-
teſt Goods, [or ſupreme felicity.] How this is,
Simmias and čebes, I will endeavour to ex-
plain to ye.
They who have rightly
embraced the ſtudy of Phi- Firſt argument ; the
loſophy, ſeem to excel in great duty and bufi
neſs of a Philoſos
this one thing; that living in pher, is continuall
obſcurity and retirement to meditate upon
death; therefore he
from vulgar converſation, ought not to dread
they intirely and with all it when it comes.
poffible contentation of mind,devote then-
ſelves to the meditation of death. If this
be true, it will be abſurd, to addict our
ſtudy and devoirs to the conſideration of
this one thing, all our life long , and at laſt
when death it ſelf comes, to be offended and
preturbed atit, after ſo long and familiar a
converſe therewith in our thoughts. * Here
* The popular ſcoff againſt Philoſophers, that they have
death alwaies in their thoughts, becauſe they are conſcious
to themſelves, they deſerve to die, in reſpe&t of their nefa-
rious livesz urged to Socrates.
Simmias
H2

102
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
* Whereunto he
the
Simmias ſmiling, Socrates faith he, by Jove
you have forced me to ſmile, who was no-
thing inclined to ſuch gayety of humor ;
for the vulgar if they had heard this, would
(I believe) be of opinion, that it is extreme-
ly ſuitable to Philoſophers: and the greateſt
part of our men would conſequently affent,
that all Philoſophers ought in good earneſt
to die;and that themſelves are not ignorant
they very well deſerve to
die. * This (replies Socra-
gravely replies, that tes) they might ſay,Simmi-
it is no wonder if
as; and truly too; this one
ignorant vulgar
give a raſh and im- thing excepted, that they
portune judgement themſelves are not ignorant
of what they under
how far thoſe who are tru-
ly Philoſophers, both medi-
tate upon death, and are worthy of it: [for
the vulgar are really ignorant thereof, and
cannot judge of what they underſtand not.]
Wherefore ſecurely pretermitting thoſe
vulgar (Scoffers] let us ſeriouſly purſue our
|
diſcourſe. too
A Second, and indo Do ye think, that death
deed an artificial ara is any thing ? Yes, anſwers
gument drawn from
the nature of death it ſelf, which he defines to be a delive.
rance of the Soul from the Body ; and puts that for the firſt
propoſition of a Syllogy(m.
şimmias.
ſtand not.

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 103
Simmias. Do ye think death to be any
thing elſe but a freeing of the Soul from
the body: and that to die, is this, when the
Body being freed from the Soul, remains by
it ſelf; and the Soul likewiſe freed front the
Body, hath exiſtence apart by it ſelf? or
is death any other thing beſides this? No-
thing but that, anſwers Simmias. Conſider
then, I beſeech ye, whether your judgment
be not the ſame with mine: for thence I
conceive light will be derived to the argu-
ment now under our conſideration. * Do
ye take them to be Philo-
* Aſumption;but the
ſophers, who imploy them-
ſelves in purſuit of thoſe loſopher is, to alies
pleaſures(as they call them) Soul from his Box
of the body, as of eating dy), and the cupidi-
and drinking, and other ties thereof.
the like ſenſual delights? By no means, som
çrates, faith Simmias. What then? in Ve.
nerial pleaſures? Neither. . Hath a Philoſo-
pher any care or value for other things that
appertain to the delicacy and ornament of
the body? as of rich cloaths, fine ſhooes, and
other gaudy ornaments; doth he deſire to
be furniſhed with ſtore of theſe toyes ?
Whether do ye think he eſteems, or con-
temns thoſe things, unleſs ſo far as there may
be great neceſſity of uſing them ? My opini-
main care of a Phi-
H4
on

104 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
on is, a true Philoſopher contemns them all.
Then your opinion is that the whole ſtudy,
care and labour of ſuch a Philoſopher is not
in pampering and adorning his body,but in
with-drawing ( as much as he can ) his
thoughts from his body, and converting
them intirely upon his mind. I confeſs it.
Doth it not then evidently follow from
thence, that the Office of a Philoſopher doth
chiefly appear in this, that he renders his
Mind free and abſolute from community of
his body ? It doth jo. But yet, Simmias,
moſt men think, that he who takes no plea-
ſure from thoſe [ſenſual] things , deſerves
not the uſe of this life, but comes nearer to
death, being inſenſible and careleſs of thoſe
delights that belong to the body. You are
in the right. * What then?
The firſt circum- when wiſdom it ſelf is to be
ftance of his proba.
tion , from the ef- acquired, will the body
feas of the corpore prove an impediment, if a
al fenfess that they man take it along as a com-
ly pure and perfect, panion in that diſquiſition
cauſe the Soul by for example, the fight it
pathy, to be dull ſelf, or hearing, have they
the diſquiſition and any truth in men? or do
diſcernment oftrush. Poets ſpeak truth, when
they ſay, that we neither
fee for hear any thing clearly and intirely?
in
and

PHEDO, Dl of the Soul. 105
and if theſe ſenſes of the body be not per-
fect, or fufficiently quick and perſpicuous;
certainly the others, which are all weaker
and duller than the ſight and hearing, muſt
needs be leſs perfect and ſincere. Do you
not think ſo? I do, ſaith he. When then
doth the Soul attain truth ? for when it
endeavours to diſcern any thing clearly and
diſtinctly, by the help of the body; 'tis ap-
parent, that then it is ſeduced and circum-
ventcd by the body it ſelf. Tou
Tou are in the
right. Doth not the Soul, by reaſoning, or
ſome other way of diſcerning, comprehend
this perſpicuouſly? Certainly it doth. And
then it reaſoneth beſt, when no ſenſe of the
body offends it, whether hearing, or ſeeing,
or pain, or pleaſure; but it converſeth in-
tirely & undiſturbdly with it ſelf alone, con-
temning and repudiating the body, and (as
much as lies in its power) retiring from all
community and commerce therewith, with
certain premeditation and counſel deſires
things, and purſues them. No doubt on't.
Doth not therefore the Soul of a Philofo-
pher even in this alſo highly contemn the
body, and retreat from it: and by its ſelf
inquire into the nature of things, ſatisfied
only with its own converſation ? So it
feems. Now this Operation, or work of
the

106 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
and abftraded Red-
Another proof, from the soul, ſhall we ſay 'tis
culiar operation of juſt, or not? Jaſt, without
the Soul, wherein doubt. Is it fair and good?
withdrawing hercell why not? But have you
with the Seaſes, it ever beheld with your eyes
is exerciſed in pure any thing of thoſe ? None,
foring.
faith he. Have you with
13 any other of your corporal
fenfes attained to theſe things, (I ſpeak of
all, as of magnitude, health, ſtrength; and in
a word, the like, which are of ſuch a nature,
as they have all a real being) is their moſt
true and certain nature conlidered, and ful-
ly diſcovered by the body ? Or is it thus,
that he who is moſt fitly and exquiſitely
comparated or diſpoſed to comprehend by
cogitation, the nature of that very thing,
in the diſquiſition whereof he is verſed
fhall come neareſt to the knowledge and
underſtanding of the nature thereof ? No
doubt of it. He then will perform this moſt
purely and clearly, who by that edge of his
Wit, by that accuteneſs of Spirit, pierceth
into every thing, neither making uſe of
his fight while he thinks , nor drawing any
other ſenſe into counſel together with his
reaſoning : but imploying only his pure
and ſimple faculty of reaſoning, endeavours
thereby to inveſtigate and diſcover the na-
ked
5

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 107
ked and true nature of the things them-
ſelves: free and ſeparated from his ears, and
eyes, and in a word, from his whole body;
as that which may perturb the Soul it ſelf,
and hinder it from acquiring to it ſelf veri-
ty and wiſdom, when it is imployed in con-
verſation and commerce therewith. Will
this man, think you, if any other doth, at-
tain to underſtand the true nature of
things? you ſpeak truth, Socrates, over and
over, faith Simmias: Is it not then conſe-
quently neceſſary, that to thoſe who are
truly Philoſophers, there be a conſtant and
eſtabliſhed Opinion, that they may confer,
among themſelves about theſe things? there
ſeems to be a plain way as it were paved to
our hands, which leads us with reaſon to the
conſideration of things; but while we carry
about this body, and our Soul is immerſed
in ſo dark and incommodious a link of evil,
we ſhall never attain to what we deſire.
This we affirm to be truth. For this body
creates to us an infinity of buſineſſes, trou-
bles, and diſquiets, meerly for the nouriſh-
ment and neceſſary ſupplies of it, Beſides, if
diſeaſes chance to invade us, they likewiſe
hinder us from the inveſtigation of various
things: and that fills us with loves, deſires,
fears, various imaginations and Chimera's
,
and

108
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
and many fooliſh whimſies; ſo that it is a
very true ſaying, that the body will never per-
mit us to be wiſe. For nothing but the body
raiſeth wars, ſeditions, combats, and the like
miſchiefs, by its inordinate luſts: and we
are forced to provide monies for mainte-
nance of the body,being ſlaves and drudg-
es to the neceſſary ſervices of it. Now while
we are thus imployed in theſe meaner Offi-
ces, we have no leiſure to apply our ſelves
to the ſtudy and ſearch of wiſdom. And
what is the greateſt of all incommodities, if
we do by chance get any thing of leiſure
and vacancy from the cares of the body
and
addreſs our minds to the ſerious conſidera-
tion of any thing; prefently the body in-
trudes, and while we are buſied in that in-
quiry, raiſeth commotions and tumult , and
ro diſturbs and confounds the mind, that it
cannot poſſibly diſcern truth. But we have
geri already demonſtrated, that
The former
affump, if we deſire to perceive any
tion repeared, and
illuſtrated by a did thing purely and clearly,
Whence we muft withdraw from
flows a certain con: the body, and imploy only
cluſion; ſince the
grand deſign of a our mind, which alone is
Philoſopher is, to
diſcern truth, his duty is to ſeparate his Soul from his
Body; and ſo as it were to anticipate death in this life,
lemmar
capa.

PHEDO, D: of the Soul.
109
capable to diſcern the nature and proper-
ties of Objects in the contemplation there-
of: for then at length, as appears, we ſhall
attain to the fruition of what we deſire,
and with love and diligence ſeek after,
namely wiſdom; when we have paſſed
through the [refinement] of death, as our
precedent diſcourſe intimates:but not whilſt
we remain in this life. For if it be impoſſi-
ble for us to perceive any thing pure and
intire, in conjunction with the body, one
of theſe two propoſitions]muft of neceſſity
follow:either we ſhall never attain to fapience;
or not until we have paſſed out of this life. For
then will the Soul be intirely divorced and
ſeparate from the Body, but not before.
While we live here, we approach indeed
Hewer to lapience, if we have as little com-
merce and converſation with the body,and
be as little infected with the luſts thereof,as
the condition and neceffities of our frail
nature will permit: but preſerve our ſelves
pure from the contagion of the ſame, until
God himſelf ſhall diſcharge and free us
wholly from it. And being once thus deli-
vered, and pure from the madneſs and ſe-
ducements of the body ; as is reaſonable to
believe , we ſhall both be aſſociated to the
like pure beings, and by our felves know
all

ΙΙΟ
PHEDO; D2 of the Soul.
all purity and integrity ; which perhaps is
truth it ſelf. For it is not poſſible for hime
who is himſelf impure, to touch what is pure.
Theſe things, Simmias, I conceive it necefla-
ry for all, who are poſſeſſed with a right
deſire of underſtanding things, both to
hold, and to diſcourſe of among themſelves.
Are not you alſo of the ſame opinion? Al-
together, Socrates. If then theſe be true
proceeds Socrates ; there
The ſecond concix is truly great hope that who
fion from the pre- fhall arrive at the place
miſes, viq.if we then
only live well, i. e. whither I am now going,
exerciſe our faculey will there, if any where, a-
we abdicate our ſend bundantly attain to the en-
ſes: it neceſſarily joyment of that, for which
then be happy, and we have in the whole courſe
perceivetruth plain. of our life paſt, been feek-
be wholly ſeparated ing with extreme labour
from the body, i.e. and ſtudy. This peregrina-
after death,
tion therefore now appoin-
ted to me, is finiſhed with good hopez and
ſo it will to any other, who ſhall have once
perſwaded himſelf
, to prepare his mind, by
rendring it pure and clean. No doubt of it,
faith Simmias. Is therefore what we faid
even now, to be held a purification and
purging of the Mind ; viz. as much as is
pohble, to divorce it from the Body, and
to

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
III
to accuſtom it to be by it ſelf congregated
and retired from the ſame, and to dwell as
it were by it ſelf : both in this, and in the
future life,ſingle by it ſelf, and freed as from
the chains of the body? Tea certainly, faith
Simmias; Is death then rightly called a ſo-
lution and reparation of the Soul from the
Body? It is fo, faith he. And do they on-
ly, who ſtudy Philoſophy rightly, moſt en-
deavour to divorce their Souls from their
Bodies, as we have ſaid ? is not this the
conſtant meditation of Philoſophers? It
ſeems to be ſo. What there-
fore we ſaid in the begin. A third conclufion.
Since the principal
ning, would it not be ridi-
deſign of a Philoſo
culous , if a man who hath pher , is to attain
all his life long made it his unto truth; and thiac
conſtant ſtudy, and princi- to ir, until after
pal care, to anticipate death death: it is incon-
by rendring his life as riear fear death. So che
ly like to it, as is poſſible; whole queſtion is
ſhould
Pederermined, that to
yet
when death re-
a wiſe man, death is
ally comes, be afraid of, and not only not formi-
troubled at it? Why not?
deble, but alſo deferea
In truth then, ſaith he, they
who Philoſophize ſeriouſly and rightly, me-
ditate moſt upon death, and to them of all
men living, death is leaſt formidable; which
is evident from this argument.
For
he cannot atrain un-
fiftene for him to
ble.

II2
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
Funera non metuit ſapiens ſuprema; nec illi,
Qui contemplando toties ſuper aftra levavit
Carnoſo abſtractam penitus de carcere mentem,
Corporis atq; Animi faciens divortia tanta;
Quanta homini licuit,mors formidanda venire
Aut ignota poteſt
. Nam mors divortia tantum
Plena hæc, que ſapiens toties optaffe videtur,
Et toties tentaſſe, facit, Superofq; petenti
Libertatem animæ claustris concedit apertis.
Majus noſter, in Supplemento, Lucani, lib. 4.
For if at all times theycontemn and vilifie
the Body, and ſtrive to have their Soul a-
part by it ſelf;, and when the hour of their
real and final ſeparation comes, fear and be
diſquieted : what could be more alien or
remote from reaſon, unleſs they willingly
and freely come thither, where there is hope
they ſhall, at their arrival , obtain whatever
they in this life deſired? and they deſired
Wiſdom, and to be delivered from all com-
merce of the body, with which they are
offended. Have many been willing,out of
ardent affection to their Friends, Wives, and
Children deceaſed, to deſcend to the ſhades
below, led by this hope , that there they
ſhould ſee, and converſe with thoſe whom
they loved: and ſhall he who is really in
love with Wiſdom, and hath conceived a
ſtrong and certain hope, that he ſhall no
where

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 113
where obtain and enjoy it, but in the other
world, as is decent and conſentaneous ;
when he is at the inſtant of death, be vexed
and grieved,and not rather voluntarily and
freely meet and einbrace it? for ſo we are
to hold, that a genuine Philoſopher will
conceive, that he ſhall never meet with
true wiſdom, but only apud inferos , among
the dead. Which if true, how inconſiſtent
with reaſon were it, for ſuch a man to fear
death ? Highly inconſistent, faith he, by
Jove. 'Tis then a fit argument that he whom
you ſhall fee dying with reluctancy and fear
is not [ Oihoropos , fed Dilor auctos, ) a
lover of Wiſdom , but a lover of his Body;
not a lover of verity, but of Riches, and the
Pleaſures of this life. It is juſt so as you ſay:
To thoſe therefore who
are in this manner diſpoſed fulting from the
A new Theorem, re:
and inclined, is not that precedents ; that
[ Virtue ] which is named thoſe who negle&:
ing the ſtudy of
Fortitude, moſt agreeable phylosophy
and proper ? it is, faith he: not truth, as politi-
Is
gar , have nor true
many define to be this, not Virtue, but only the
to be diſquieted or afficted blance of it.
with luſts, but to deſpiſe
them; and to regulate ones life by modera:
tiou: does not this properly and peculiar-
I
ly
, purſue
s not Temperance, which cians and the vul-
Miadow and reſemo
J

114 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
ly belong to thoſe who both contemn the
Body, and continually exerciſe themſelves
in the ſtudy of Philoſophy ? Of neceſſity.
For, ſaith he, if you conſider the Fortitude
and Temperance of other men, you will
diſcover them to be nothing but an im-
portune and abſurd oſtentation of Virtue.
How fo, Socrates § You know ſaith he, that
all other men account death to be one of
the greateſt Evils. They do fa indeed, re-
plies
he. Do then men of courage and for-
titude endure death bravely, for fear of
greater Evils ? They do, anſwers he. Then
are all, except Philoſophers, ſaid to be Valio
ant only from fear ; though it be truly ſome
what abſurd (and a kind of contradiction]
to call any man valiant upon the account
of fear and cowardiſe. I grant it to be fo.
What? as for thoſe of the vulgar who are
reputed to be Temperate,are not they ſo out
of ſome intemperance? Tho we have de-
clared that to be impoſſible: yet the like
affection falls upon them in that their ſenſe-
leſs and fooliſh temperance; for while they
fear to be deprived of ſome pleaſures, and
ſtill coveting them, abſtain from others;
they are carried away by thoſe they covet,
without reſtraint. Now they call it In-
temperance, to be governed by the tyran-
ny

PHEDO, D? of the Soul. 115
virtues are vizards
ny of pleaſures: and 'tis their caſe, to be
overcome by ſome pleaſures, whilft they
conquer others. So that what we ſaid even
now of vulgar Fortitude , holds true allo
of theſe men, that they are Temperate
from ſome Intemperance.
But, my Simmias,this is not that the firmament
of truc Virtue, is
the right way to Virtue, to
wiſdom; without
exchange pleaſures for plea- which the politić
ſures, pains for pains, one
and diſguizes. So
fear for another, greater for that to Plato , true
leſs, as we do money. That Virtue is wiidem ;
Wiſdom truth, and
is at laſt the true money, Truth, Expurgation,
for which all things elle
are to be exchanged; Wiſdom, for the ſake
whereof, and for which alone, all things are
to be ſold and bought: that fortitude, and
temperance, and ( in fumme) every true
and genuine Virtue may exiſt with wiſdom;
while pleaſures , and fears, and all of the
ſame Tribe come and go. But if they be
ſeparated from prudence, and exchanged
one for another by turns ; ſuch Virtue will
not amount to the ihadow of Virtue , but
be meerly ſervile and baſe ; it will have
nothing of true , nothing of ſound and ſo-
lid in it. Now Truth it lelf is the expurga-
tion and refinement of all theſe: not tempe-
rance, nor juſtice , nor fortitude, no nor
1 2
Wiſdom

116 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
Wiſdom it ſelf can be the expurgation. And
indeed thoſe who firſt ordain'd our Cere-
monies, ſeem not to have been Gilly and vile
men: but to have prudently deſigned that
wrapt up in the veyls of Words, when they
ſaid, that he who ſhould deſcend to thoſe
below, not being initiated, and expiated ac-
cording to the uſe of Sacri-
Hence that of Vir- fices; thould be rowld in
gil.(Aneid lib.6,2a.
mudd: but he who der-
prima piacula funto,
Sic demum iucos
: cended to the ſhades, being
ftygios , regnai ingia firſt ritely expiated, and ad-
Concerning which mitted to the Sacrifices,
Expiation, derived ſhould have his habitation
gyptians, conſult with the Gods. For in the
Servius Honoratus Ceremonies themſelves ( as
upon the place.
they ſay) you may ſee
* Naponxopópol uile * many that bear Lances
πολλοί, Βάκχοι δε
γέ παυροι.
covered with leaves, but
Multos Thyrfigeros, few Bacchuſes.
* Theſe
paucos eft cernere
Balchos,anold Greek
are, in my opinion, no other
adage.
but they who ſtudy Philo-
from the antient E.
* The importance ofall the precedent Arguments , acco-
modated by Socrates to his own jvftification, for that re-
fåing the counſel and aid of his Friends, who ftrove to
perſwade him to avoid death, (as Plato hath left upon Re-
cord, in a precedent Dialogue, intitled Crito ) he ſtill re-
mained fixed in his judgement , that he fought rather to
embrace it.
ſophy

PHEDO, 02 of the Soul.
117
ſophy rightly. From which inſtitute I
for my part have never in my whole life
departed: but have with all poſſible con-
tentation of mind laboured to be one of
them. But if we have done our devoirs
rightly and profited any thing in that ſtudy,
when we come thither, we ſhall certainly
underſtand, if God be ſo pleaſed, a little af-
ter, as I think. Theſe then Simmias and
Cebes are the reaſons I bring for my defenſe,
that I leave ye and theſe Lords who are
here, not only upon juſt motives, but with-
out trouble or regret : being fully perſwa-
ded within my ſelf, that I ſhall there find as
good Lords and Friends as here.
The things
I have ſaid, are indeed of that [ abſtruſe ]
nature, that they may be by very many e-
ſteemed incredible: but if I ſhall appear to
ye to have made now a more pertinent and
decent defenſe, to engage your aſſent, than
I did before thoſe Athenians who were my
Judges; 'tis very well.
When Socrates had ſaid
this, Cebes taking up the
A new diſputation
of the immortality
diſcourſe ; ſome things, of the Souls but the
baſis of the former.
For if the Soul ſurvive not the body, all diſpute concert.--
ing future felicity or infelicity, muſt be vain and idle.
roky brn TiVİ99197 10 I 3
faith
edhe

118
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
of irere folid Ar-
faith he, ſeem indeed to be excellently well
Taid by you : but what you have delivered
concerning mans Mind or Soul, ſeems whol-
ly abhorrent from Humane belief: nay they
believe rather , * that the
* To make way for Soul, ſo ſoon as it goes out
this diſpute, firſt is
propoſed the con. of the Body,
of the Body, doth no lon-
trary opinion of
ger exiſt; but in the very
the soul dies with day wherein a man dies,
the Body; but fo utterly periſh; more plain-
the words of this ly, that departing from the
opinion, fie conceled Body,as a breath or ſmoke,
the ſeeds as it were it is diſperſed, and flies a-
guments. For things way, nothing of it after-
compounded are faid wards remaining Now if it
to be diſſipated. He
therefore being a-
continued intire, and had a
bout to demonftrate being apart by itſelf, deli-
things out notre coma vered and freed fiom the e-
pound', but moſt vils you recounted; then I
evident, that a sont confeſs, there would be a
is uncapable of de noble hope [beyond death]
ftru&ion by diſipa. if the things you have ſaid,
tion; as will
from the diſpute it Socrates, be true. But this
wants no little probation of
* The ſtate of the Arguments to prevail upon
after the diſſolution Soul exiſteth after a man is
Queſtion, whether belief: * namely that the
of the Body, the
Soul be likewiſe dir. dead; and what faculty it
ſolved, and hath nó hath of perceiving and un-
longer a-being.
derſtan-
appear
felf.

PHEDO, Dp of the Soul. 119
derſtanding. You are in the right', Cebes,
replies Socrates. But what do we? Will
you that we diſcourſe further of this mat-
ter, whether it be reaſonable, or not? I
would gladly hear, faith Cebes, your opini-
on concerning theſe [abſtruſe] things. Nor
do I think, ſaith Socrates again, there is any
man living, though he be a Comedian, when
he ſhall hear me diſputing about them, will
ſay, I trifle and ſpeak of things impertinent
and undecent. If you pleaſe therefore,
that this matter be fully debated among us;
let us conſider it in this manner, namely
whether the Souls of men deceaſed, be in
the infernal habitations, or not.
* For this
is a very anțient Tradition,
which we here commemo-
* The firſt reaſon,
drawn from the Py-
rate, that the Souls of the thagorean opinion,
dead go from hence thic of the tranſmigrati.
ther, and return from thence on of ſouls. For if
go from bo.
hither, and are made of the dies into another
dead. Now if it be ſo, that thence hither to a.
the living are made out of nimate otherbodies;
the dead ; our Souls truly it follows both that
can be no where but there: exiſt hereafter; be-
for if they were not, men cauſe they are ſup-
could not be made again through many boa
poſed
paſs
of them. And this would dies.
be a ſtrong Argument that the thing is fo, in
cale
and return
to
14

I 20
PHEDO, DL of the Soul.
caſe it were manifeſt', that the living are
not otherwiſe animated than by the Souls
of the dead. But if this be not evident
and certain, other reaſons are to be fought
for, that may be more convincing. They are
fo, faith Cebes. * Do not
* Proof of this Py- then, ſaith he, conſider this
thagorean Hypothes
fis; that this circu -
in men only, if you would
lation is peformed, eaſily underſtand it; but in
not only in the bo- Animals and Plants alſo ;
dies of men, ſo that
the living are inade in ſumnie, in all that have
out of the dead; but being by Generation : that
tures ; namely that we may enquire whether
contràries are made they be all produced from
out of their contra-
ries, as he teacheth no other original than as
by various examples. contraries from contraries,
whatſoever have their contraries ) as
Beautiful or Honorable is contrary to ugly
or ſhameful, juſt to unjuſt, and infinite a-
thers in the ſame manner. Let us ſee there-
fore if it be neceſſary that any contrary can
have no being in nature, unleſs from its
contrary: for example, that when a grea-
ter thing is made", it be neceſſary it ſhould
be made of a leſs firſt and then greater. Let
as examine this. If a leſs thing be made out
of that which was greater before, will it af-
terward be made leſs ? Yes, faith he. And of
a ſtronger, a weaker ; of a flower a ſwifter?
It

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
I 21
It will fo. What? if any thing worſe be
made, is it out of a better? if any thing
more juſt, is it out of what is more unjuſt?
Why not? This then is clear, ſaith he, that
all things are thus made, contraries out of
contraries. 'Tis fo. What more? Is there a-
ny medium betwixt two contraries; ſo that
where there are two contraries , there muſt
be alſo two generations or originals of be-
ing produced, firſt from one to the other,
and then from that to this again?for betwixt
a leſs thing and a greater, there is augmen-
tation and diminution, of which one we
call to increaſe, the other to decreaſe. Right.
Therefore to ſeparate, and compound ; to
grow cold, and to grow hot, and all in the
ſame manner; though we uſe not names
ſometimes, yet in reality it is neceffary, that
ſome things be made out of others, and that
there be a mutual generation and beginning
of fome to others. I grant it, faith he. Is
any thing contrary to life, as ſleep is contra-
ry to waking? Yes. What? Death, ſaith he.
Are theſe then made mutually each out of
other, ſeeing they are contraries, and their
generations made by fome thing intermedi-
ate betwixt two contraries? Why not? One
therefore of the two pairs I juſt now menti-
oned to you, I will
explain, and their genes
rations:

122
PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
rations: do you fhew me the other. To
ſleep, and to awake: for out of ſleep comes
waking, and out of waking,ſleep. The ori-
gins or generations of theſe are, of ſleep, to
be in a deep ſleep, of waking, to be raiſed
up from fleep. Is this ſufficiently explained,
• or not? Sufficiently. * Do
* That death is you then tell me with equal
contrary to life and plaineſs
, of life and death:
whence is colle&ed, whether is life contrary to
that the dead are death? It is fo. And are
and the living out ſome things generated out
of the dead, and of others. They are. What
thus pafſing from then is made out of one
body to body , ftill living? A dead one,faith he;
therwiſe they could and what out of a dead? A
not tranſmigrate." living, I muſt confefs. Of the
dead therefore, Cebes, are made the living.
Clearly ſo, faith he.
Are then our Souls in
the Manſions below ? It ſeems ſo. Of the
two generations or orgins therefore, which
we have demonſtrated to be in theſe
things, is not one at leaſt perſpicuous. For
to die, is manifeſt to all : is it not ? yes, faith
he. * What then ſhall we do? ſhall we com-
* Tie ſame concluo poſe ſome other contrary
for farther explicãe to this, or will this nature
ted, thus ; tho this rather be maimed and im-
new life appear not
to us, yet fince no perfect? or ſhall we deter
mine,

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 123
termine, that ſome other man can doubt of
generation is to be rendred death, which is
known to all; from
contiary to death? yes, faith the nature of con-
he. What ſhall that be? traries, that cannot
be underſtood one
Even to revive that is a new without the other,
life. If then there be a new it is neceſſary chac
life , will that be a certain (a'vasions ) or re-
viving, or ( prediyo
generation out of the dead gevesta 1 second iro
to the living? Doubtleſs. Heration to life, be.
That therefore ſhall be confeſſed and eſta-
bliſhed betwixt us, that the living have ex-
iſtence out of the dead, no leſs than the dead
out of the living. Which being ſo, is a con:
venient argument, that it is plainly neçeſla-
ry, the Souls of the dead be ſomewhere,
from whence they may again exiſt. This
indeed, Socrates, ſeems to me to be proved
from [ Propoſitions ] granted and given.
Obſerve this alſo, Cebes , that we have not
confeſſed that without good cauſe.
unleſs thoſe things that are
* Another Argu.
made, were compoſed ſome
ment, ab incommo-
of others by turns ; fo as do ; if contraries
they come round again as duced out of con-
pro-
in a circle; but there were traries, all Genera-
only a generation in a right tions would inevi.
line from one to its oppo- being abſurd, he
thence colleas and
evinces, that out of the living, are made the dead,
and out
of the dead the living. Which is the firſt concluſion.
fitc
* For
were not thus

124 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
to
ſite, not reflecting again to the firſt, nor
making a return or regreſs: aſſure your
ſelf, it would come to paſs, that at length all
things would have the ſame figure, be in
the ſame manner affected and conſequently
would ceaſe to be made. How's that? faith
he. 'Tis not difficult, anſwers Socrates ,
comprehend what I ſay. For Example ; if
this very thing, to ſleep (if I may fo ſpeak)
that is ſleep, were exiſtent ; but to
but to awake,
were not, on the reverſe, compoſed of the
man ſleeping: we were obliged to conclude,
that all would'at length repreſent the Fable
of Endymion , and appear no where : be-
cauſe the ſame would happen to all, that
hapned to that Endymion, namely to ſleep.
And if all things were mixed and com-
pounded into one, without diſcretion or
diſtinction; then that of the Anaxagoreans
would come to paſs, all things would be at
once. In the ſame manner , my
Cebes , if
all things that now participate of life, thould
die, and then remain dead in that figure,
nor revive again ; is it not clearly neceſſa-
Iy, that at length all muſt die, and nothing
be left alive? for if the living have ex-
iſtence out of others, and the living ſhould
dig how could it be poſſible but all would
be conſumed by death? By no meanes, So-
crates,

PHEDO, D2 of the Soule I 25
crates, quoth he; for all you ſay, appears to
me to be true. '
Tis even ſo, Cebes, faith
he. Nor do we ſeem to confeſs things, as
being impofed upon, and circumvented by
error : but this is really demonſtrated by
us, that there is a return and reſtauration of
a certain new life; that the living are made
out of the dead; that the souls of the dead
exiſt; and that good Souls are in a better con-
dition, and wicked ones in a worſe.ro
Here Cebes anſwering,
Socrates, ſaith he, what you to prove the Ime
A ſecond Reaſon
now ſaid, ariſeth from the mortality of the
reaſon of that opinion Soul, drawn from
that Hypotheſis,chat
which you frequently have to learn, is only to
in your mouth (if at leaſt it remember. For if in
this body, the Soul
be true) that to learn, is on-
remember the things
ly to remember. And from it knew before it
this opinion indeed it ſeems came into it,it hath
had a Being before
to be neceſſarily concluded, it was married to
that we ſome time hereto-
fore learned, what we now recal into our
memory. But this could not be, unleſs our
Soul were in being, before it came into this
humane form. So by this reaſon alſo, the
Soul ſeems to be a thing im mortal. But
Cebes, faith Simmias taking up the Dif-
courſe; pray, recal to our memory thoſe
your demonſtrations : for I do not well re-
member
the fame.

126 PHEDO; Dl of the Soul.
and of ſuch as are
member them at preſent. The thing may
be demonſtrated by one, and that a remar-
kable Reaſon ; * namely,
A proof of that becauſe men being asked,
Platonic Hypotheſis,
that ſcience is Remi: they deliver the whole
niſcenje, from the matter as it is : but this cer-
effects themſelves ;
viz, that men being tainly they could not do, if
asked righely, an- there were not Science and
otherwiſe (than by right reaſon in them. Again
reminiſcente ) un- if a man bring a matter to
known to them, yea Geometrical Figures,or Di-
indeed obſcure and agrams, or the like eviden-
abſtruſc , as in Ma- ces: this moſt manifeſtly
thematics. This Pla.
to more copiouſly proves and demonſtrates
explicates in his Di. the ſame to be true. But if
non : here touching by this way, ſaith Socrates,
it only en paſant.
that be not proved to you;
conſider well, whether
when you by this reaſon ſerioully examine
the matter, it ſeem to you ſo clear, as that
you ought to aſſent thereunto. Do you
not believe , how that which is called to
learn, is really nothing but to remember ? I
do not indeed refuſe to believe it: but de-
fire to have recalled into my memory, that
of which we began to diſcourſe: and from
thoſe reaſons Cebes hath endevoured to al-
ledge, I almoſt remember and believe it al-
ready. Nevertheleſs I would now gladly
hear,

PHEDO, D? of the Soul.
127
hear, by what way you are provided to de-
monſtrate it. By this, ſaith he. Upon this
we are already agreed, that if a man record
and recal to his memory any thing whatſo-
ever, he muſt have known it before. True,
faith he. * Do we then
confeſs this alſo, that when * A further proof of
there is knowledge by this whereof this is the
way, that knowledge is re- ſumme: that from
miniſcence? I ſay, by this rity of the thing we
the parity or impas
way [by this example ] as have known , we
if a man had perceived a
come to underſtand
other things, while
thing either by ſight, or by we mark what is
hearing, or any other ſenſe, like, what urlikes
which he aſſerts by
he hath not only known many Examples.
that thing, but thought up-
on ſome other thing alſo, whereof that very
knowledg is not, but ofanother: might we
not ſay, that he hath remembred the thing,
the underſtanding and knowledg whereof
he hath perceived? How fay you this ? Let
this be an example ; is not the knowledge
of a Man; one; and the knowledge of a
Harp, another? why not? Know you not,
that it is uſual to Lovers, when they behold
either the Harp, or Garment, or any other
thing, which their Paramours.or Miſtreſſes
are wont to uſe; to know that Harp, and
to have in their mind the image of the
Youth

128
PHEDO, Du of the Soul.
Youth whoſe the Harp is ? Now this[their
Knowledg] is Remembrance : as a man ha-
ving ſeen Simmias , often remembers Cebes;
and there are found infinite 'other examples
of the fame kində. There are ſoy faith Sim-
mias, by Jove. And is not that,fàith he, Re-
membrance ? and moſt of all, when the ſame
hapneth to us in thoſe things, which wher
we have not lately ſeen them, through
length of time, and diſcontinuance of uſe,
we have forgot? yes, faith he. Doth it
not happen, that if one ſee the Picture of a
Horſe,
or Harp, he preſently remembers a
Man: and if he ſee the picture of Simnias,
he inſtantly remembers Cebes? It doth. And
if he ſee Simmias his picture, doth he not
remember Simmias himſelf ? It doth ſo hap-
audrinim pen, faith he. i* Doth it
* Whence it fol- not then come to paſs, that
lows, that Remini.
jcenſe is from the in all theſe inſtances Re:
parity or disparity, membrance is exerciſed;
of things compared partly from things alike,
partly from things unlike?
It doth. * But now, when a man remembers
* Another ſuppoſition, that from this Reminiſcence we
do
not only perceive wherein the reſemblance confiſteth,but als
ſo what is wanting to make the reſemblance perfeát, with
reſped to the thing already known. Which alko he remon-
ftrates by Examples,
a thing

* HEDO, D2 of the Soul. 129
a thing upon ſight of the like, ought he
not to be ſo qualified or diſpoſed, as to un-
derſtand whether there be any defect of re-
ſemblance in what he ſo remembers? of ne*
ceffity, ſaith he. Conſider then, ſaith he, if
theſe things be ſo. Do we ſay, that there is
any thing Equal ? not wood to wood, nor
ſtone to ſtone, nor any thing of that kind:
but beſides all theſe , ſome other thing; vim,
Equality it ſelf ? ſhall we hold, there is any
ſuch thing in nature, or not? yes, by Jove,
faith Simmias; but exceedingly admirable.
Do we know what that thing , Equal, is ?
We do, faith he. Whence ſhall we derive
the knowledge of it? ſhall we not from
thoſe things we juſt now mentioned, when
we behold woods, or ſtones, or any other
the like Bodies equal ; from theſe ( I ſay)
fhall we not in our thoughts comprehend
that, which is quite another thing, different
from them? or doth it not ſeem to you to
be quite another thing? Now conſider this
alſo. Do not thoſe very equal woods and
equal ſtones, which are the ſame ſtill ſeem to
you ſometimes to be equal, ſometimes une-
qual. They do ſo. What? Do they ſome-
times ſeem to you equal or unequal: or the
very Equality it ſelf leem Inequality? Not
at all, Socrates. Are not then, làith he, E-
К.
quals

130 PHEDO, Dl of the Sotaui.
* tho
Plato
here
calls
quals, and Equality the ſame thing. Not, as
I conceive, Socrates.
But faith he,
the Equals be different
* Another Suppoft from the Equality , yet
tion, to the ſupport
whereof the relt are you have both underſtood
applied, vix, that and perceived the know-
things Equal and ledge thereof.
You Speak
unequal,by a certain most truly, ſaith he. Is it
Divinepower(which
not the ſame thing, whether
[od inoy ] the e- the object underſtood be
qual) from the rea- like or unlike to that which
ſon of the compari-
fon made, under occaſioned the thoughts of
ſtanding this fimm- it ? It is. That truly
ply, that in our
Soul is a Divine vir- makes no difference, for
tue or faculty, by having ſeen one thing, and
which the operati- from that very light con-
and Science
, and
o- ceiving in your mind ano-
ther the like,are per- ther, whether like or un-
firmed.
like: neceflary it is ,
faith
he , that [Conception] be Remembrance.
Very well. What then, faith he? are we to
hold the ſame concerning thoſe things of
which we newly ſpake, woods, ſtones, and
the like? Do the Equals ſeem to be ſo a-
mong themſelves, as the Equal it ſelf is ? or
doth ſomething ſeem to be wanting therein
ſo as they are not ſuch as that equal is, or
nothing ? Much is wanting. Do we not
admit this alſo, as certain and perſpicuous;
when

PHEDO, Dy of the Soul.
131
* From theſe ſup-
when a inan having beheld
ſomething, comprehends pofitions given and
the ſame in his mind, and (toward the expli:
will have it (for example, ftion under debate)
cation of the que.
what I now look upon ) to that the soul une
derſtands borh like
be exactly ſuch as Tome o-
and unlike things,
ther thing : but yet it fails, wherein the parity
i. e. it cannot be ſuch, but or diſparity confift-
eth; which is Sci-
comes ſhort of the other to
ence, and from Réa
which he likened it: is it membrance; as being
not of abſolute neceſſity, par and impar.
from compariſon of
that he who fo reaſoneth,
hath before ſeen that, to which he ſaid the
other is like , but yet there is wanting
therein ſomewhat to complete the ſimili-
tude or reſemblance ? It is neceſſary. What?
äre we in the ſame manner affected, in the
conſideration both of the things that ſeem
equal, and of the equality it ſelf? Altogether.
Neceſſary it is therefore, that we have firſt
ſeen that Equal, before that time whereini
having firſt beheld the Equals, we compre-
hend them in our mind, and conceive, that
all things affect to be ſuch as thar Equal,
but cannot reach to a full and perfect fimia
litude or reſemblance thereof. So it isa
* But let us grant this alſo;
that no man could compre-
* And that al-
hend in his mind that Equal dóth in this life, a&t
though our Soul
ie
I 2

132 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
that any
yet that
facul.
bý meanes of the it ſelf, from any other [in-
corporcal Senſes and timation:7 and that it is
make uſe of them not poſſible
as her inftruments ; ſhould comprehend it, 0-
very
ty of perceiving by therwiſe than from the
them, is to be dedué ſight, or touch, or ſome o-
åed from a higher ther of the Senſes. For I
and
ple, namely that hold the ſame of all: the
Divine power eflen-
the Soul
, cafe being one and the ſame
which he calls (Td in all, Socrates ; as to what
roy ] the Equal,
ſo that by that name
concerns the explication of
he ſeems tointimate this Diſcourſe. But from
God himſelf, to the the information of the Sen-
end he might con-
clude,
that the soul ſes themſelves we are to un-
derſtand that all things that
are ſubject to their preception, continually
affect, and deſire to be referred unto that
which is Equal, and to yield thereunto; as
being in themſelves leſs perfect. Shall we
grant this ? Tes. * For bes
* The Reaſon of fore we began to ſee, or
that affertion. Un- hear, or have any faculty
power were in us,
of Senſe , 'twas neceilary
u hereby we per for us to be endowed with
ceive; certainly we
could difcern no-
knowledge of that Equal,
thing by the help of what it was: if we would
our Senſes. Divine refer to that Equal, the E-
then is that Faculty
whereby the Soul underſtands by benefit of the ſenſes, re-
members, and reaſons ; yea and hath a knowledge even of
God himſelf, of Good, Beautiful, Holy, Juft.
quals
alſo is Divine.
leſs
that Divine

PHEDO, Da of the Soul. 133
quals that occur to our ſenſes; as if all
things were by a certain potent inſtinct in:
clined to aſpire to be ſuch as that is, tho
they be much, yea infinitely inferior there-
unto. This
, Socrates, is evidently neceſſa-
ry from the things mentioned by us before.
When we were newly born, did we not
See and Hear; had we not all our Senſes?
We had. It muſt be therefore, that before
that, we were endowed with knowledge of
the Equal. Certainly. Before we were
born therefore ( it ſeems) 'tis neceſſary we
ſhould have the knowledge thereof. It
ſeems fo.
endowed therewith, before
* Conclaſion; ſee-
we had exiſtence ; did we example of things
ing that from the
not underſtand even before moſt known to us,
it hath been pro.
we were Born ? and when
ved, that we know
firſt we were born, did we that which by comą
not know, not only Equal, päring like and uni
and Greater, and Leſs, but unequal, we remem"
all other the like [ Re- ber
; and ſeeing thar
fpects? ] for the deſign of nbe fouis in the event
dy, know ſo great
things; it follows of neceſſity, that the ſoul long
before
knew the ſame things, which it now, by the miniſtry of
the ſenſes, knows and underſtands , as it were by certain
degrees. Yet that knowledge is to be attributed, nor to
the miniſtry of the ſenſes , but to that efficacious feed of
Reaſon and Science which is inherent in the Soul it ſelf;and
enly excited by the ſuggeſtions of the ſenſes,
* If we were
K 3
our

134 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
our diſcourſe is no more concerning the E-
qual, than concerning the Beautiful, the
Good, Juft,and Holy; in ſumme, concerning
all, by which both in our interrogations,
when we interrogate our ſelves, and in our
anſwers, when we anſwer, we fign and ſeal
the Being of a thing : fo that of neceſſity,
we were endowed with the knowledge of
all theſe things, before we were born. It is
of neceſſity. Now if there had never been
induced upon us an oblivion of theſeKnow-
ledges perceived, we muſt certainly have
ſtill been skilful in them , and through our
whole life alwaies endowed with Science,
For, to know, is conſtantly to retain the
knowledge of that thing we have percei-
ved, and never to loſe it. Do we not call
Oblivion, a loss of Knowledge? We do, so-
crates. What if being endowed with that
Knowledge, before we were born;we have
loſt it, ſince we were born: and afterwards
being converſant in thoſe things by the help
and ſervice of our Senſes, retrive thoſe Sci-
ences we had before: do not we then call
to Learn, to recover our own Science and
if we call it, to Remember; do we call it
rightly, or not? Rightly. For by experi-
ence ithath been demonſtrated to be poffi-
þle, that he who hath perceived a thing by
fence

PHEDO, Dr of the Soul. 135
ſenſe, i.e. ſeen, or heard, or by any other
ſenſe perceived it, may in his mind compre-
hend ſome other thing different from that
which he had forgot, namely that to which
the other, like or unlike, ſhould ſucceed (in
the Train of his thoughts.] Wherefore of
the two, one (as we have ſaid
is a neceffa-
ry confequent; for either we were born
knowing theſe things, and all know them
through the whole courſe of our life; or
certainly thoſe whom we call Learners, do
nothing elſe but Remember: and ſo, to
Learn, will be only to remember. And
without all doubt, Socrates; this is even ſo.
Whether of the two will you chooſe, Sim-
mias? That we are born knowing; or that
we afterward recal to mind the things we
knew before. I know not at preſent", Socra-
tes, which to chooſe. What? in this exam-
ple have you not judgment to chooſe , & to
determine certainly of it? A prudent and
knowing man, cannot he give a reaſon of
the things he knows? He can, Socrates. Do
you think that all are able to give an ac-
count of thoſe whereof we juſt now treat-
ed ? I wiſh they could, ſaith Simmias; but
fear leſt to morrow no man may be left a-
live able to do it. Do not all, think you,
know theſe things, Simmias faith he ? No.
K 4
There

136
PHEDO, 02 of the Soul."
How the ſoul is Therefore they remember
ſaid to have former.
ly known the things thoſe they have ſometimes
which being in the known.
Certainly. And
body; it recalls to
when did our Minds receive
memory. Where we
ray o live, that their knowledge? Not from
according to this
Jocratic Hypotheſis,
the time we were born men.
the ſoul is created No doubtleſs. Before theres
long before the bo: fore. So it ſeems. Our Souls
a Gheſt infuſed into then were, before they put
ir, by God. Which
is his firſt pofition.
on the ſhape of man ; and
they obtained the power of
underſtanding, while they ýet had exiſtence
apart by themſelves. Unleſs perhaps, So-
crates, we receive theſe Sciences at the time
of our birth : for that time yet remains.
When then do we loſe them? for we have
them not when we are newly born, as was
before agreed upon betwixt
us. Do we loſe
them at the ſame time when we receive
them? or can you aſſign any other time?
No. But I perceived not that I ſay nothing.
Then, Simmias, the thing is clearly ſo.
If at leaſt there be thoſe
A ſecond poſition, things which we have al-
that our ſoul is Di-
vine, not by decif. waies in our mouths, Beau-
on from Divinity it
ſelf, nor by iſſuing, or propagation, or generation of ſubs
ſtance, or any other groſs manner of produ&tion from Di.
vinity ; yet divine; ſo that the Divine energy of perceiving
and knowing, is eflential to it, which diſtingueſhes it from
all other Animals,
tiful,

PHEDO, 02 of the Soul. 137
tiful, and Good, and every ſuch eſſence; and
we thereunto refer all things that come from
our Senſes: for that by inveſtigating our
own Eſſence, we find to be, namely exi-
ftent, and we compare theſe things to the
exemplar thereof, so it is neceſſary, that as
theſe alſo are, ſo our Soul too be, before we
were Born, and came into the light of this
life. If theſe were not, truly this
diſcourſe
would ſeem to be made in vain: but they
are ſo, and there is an equal neceſſity,both
that they be, and that our Souls were exi-
Itent", before we were Born. If thoſe be
not,neither are theſe. *Tru-
ly, Socrates, faith Simmi as, this created and di:
* conclufion; that
abſolute neceſſity ſeems to vine Soul hath had
urge theſe things beyond pre-exiſtence with
all diſpute : and reaſon God, then knowing
more things, chan
ſeems excellently to con- ſince it came a Pil-
duct us to this concluſion, grim into the dark-
fom lodging of the
that as well our Soul, as body. So that this
that Eſſence whereof we
Do&trine about Rex
membrance, may be
ſpeak, have been exiſtent, reduced to this one
before we were born. For Syllogiſm. That is
learned which is
perceived from remembrance of the like : the Soul, before
it came into the Body, could not but know many things, by
that Divine power wherewith it was endowed; therefore
what it learneth in the body, it underſtandeth from re-
membrance of the like; and ſo Learning is nothing but Rem
miniſcenſo ; which was the thing to be demonftrated.
I

138 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
I hold nothing ſo certain and evident, as
that all theſe are, and chiefly both Beautiful
and Good, and the reſt of which you now
treated :and I am abundantly convinced of
their verity. What? and is cebes ſo too?
for he alſo ought to be perſwaded. I con-
ceive, faith Simmias, the whole matter hath
been ſufficiently proved to him too, tho
he be a man of moſt hard and moſt ſlow be-
lief, beyond all others; yet I think, it hath
been clearly enough demonſtrated to him,
that our Souls were pre-exiſtent to our
Nativity. But whether they alſo ſurvive
our death, and continue their Being after
the diffolution of our Bodies; this I think
hath not been yet demonſtrated : and that
vulgar opinion, which Cebes mentioned, yet
remains unrefuted ; namely that ſo ſoon as
a man is dead, his Mind or Soul is diſperſed,
and deſtroyed, fo that it can no longer ex-
ift. For what ſhould hinder , but it may
derive its origin and creation from ſome o-
ther principle, and have Being long before
it enter into a human body: but when it ,
departs, and is freed again from the body,
then it both die, and be utterly aboliſhed?
You ſay well; Simmias , quoth Cebes. : for
only the half of what was required, ſeems
to be demonſtrated , viz. that our Souls
were,

PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
139
arguments comes to
were, before we were born. There remains
to be remonſtrated the other part, that the
demonſtration may be full and perfect ;
namely that after our death, our Souls will
be, no leſs than they were before our birth.
This part of the Demon-
ſtration, Simmias and ce-
The ſecond part
of the former Theſis,
bes, ſaith Socrates, is now fi- of their mortality
niſhed; and if ye pleaſe of Souls ; where so-
crates, after lighter
to conjoyn and compoſe
this reaſon, with that upon allege more folia
which we all agreed be- and cogent Reaſons,
fore, namely, that whatever Soul being perfe&ly
lives, hath its exiſtence out fimple, or void of all
of the dead. For if the Soul fore naturally inca-
be pre-exiſtent, neceſſary pable of diffolution
it is, that when it comes to bes had obje&ed.
or diſſipation; as Cee
life, and is truly in Being,
it derive that exiſtence only from death.
How therefore is not clearly evinced, that
it doth exiſt fo foon as a manis deceaſed: fee-
ing it is neceſſary that it exiſt again? This
allo then is already demonſtrated, as is ap-
parent.
And yet notwithſtanding both you and
Simmias ſeem willing to be again exerciſed
more accuratly in this argument, and to be
aſtoniſhed with that childiſh fear, left the
wind blow out and diſſipate the Soul going
out

140 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
out of the Body ; and the more, if a man
die, not in a cloſe
room ſecured from
winds , but in an open place where winds
blow ſtrongly. And when Cebes had ſmi-
led; endeavour not, Socrates, ſaith he, to
incourage us, as if we were aſtoniſht
with fear; but endeavour rather to demon-
ſtrate the thing to us, as free from all fear.
Yet perhaps there is here among us ſome
Boy, who is afraid at the mention of this.
Let us therefore do our devoir to perſwade
him not to dread death, as a Goblin. 'T'is
fit, faith Socrates, to mitigate and animate
him daily with Verſes, * till
* Alluding to the he be perfectly reſtored.
Magic of Inhcantatie
ou, firft uſed by the
But where, faith ke, ſhall
Egyptians, and from we find a man skilful e-
them derived roche
Grecians by Orphec nough in the Art of In-
vs, who thereby ha- chanting: ſince you ſay, you
ving cured his Wife deſire to leave us ? Greece is
Eorydice of the ve-
nemous bite of a wide, Cebes, ſaith he; and
Serpent, was there in it are good and skilful
have reduced her men, and many Barbarous
from Hell. of the Nations, which are all to be
antiquity of thiſ ſurveyed, that there may
the tradu&tion of it, be found out a man pow-
conſult Sir John erful in that Art of Charm-
Markham in Chronic.
Caron. pag. 142.
ing ; neither money nor
02. i labour ought to be ſpared
for

PHEDO, D? of the Soula
147
dament whereof is
for ye can expend your money in nothing
that's more neceſſary. And now he is to
be ſought after among your ſelves: for
perhaps ye will not eaſily find any man
more able than your ſelves to perform it.
This ſhall be done, faith Cebes ; but in the
mean time let us, if you pleaſe, return to
our argument, from which we have digref-
ſed. With all my heart; why not? You ſay
well quoth he. * Ought
we not then, faith Socrates,
* The beginning
to ask of our ſelves, and about the Souls im-
of the grand diſpute
with the beſt of our under- mortality; the fun.
ſtanding to enquire , to
this propoſition; that
what thing this affection the
[ of Dilipatios ] may be pure and ſimple,
and
therefore indiffolu-
convenient and incident; ble.
and for what we ought to
fear, left it ſuffer Dillipation, and by what
reaſon , and in what part thereof: then to
conſider diligently whether that thing be a
Soul,or not: and in fine, matters being thus
ſtated, either to hope comfortably of the
Soul, or to fear for it, accordingly? You say
well, quoth he. * Is it agreeable to a thing
which is either actually
mixt, or compounded, or whatſoever is com-
* Firſt poſitions
by nature ſo conſtituted, as pojed,isobnoxious to
to be capable of mixture or diffolution.
com-
ſoul is moft

142
PHEDO, D of the Soul.
* Thoſe things
compoſition: is it agreeable, I ſay, to ſuch
a thing, in as
much as it is compounded, to
be diffolved? But if there be ſuch a thing,
of whoſe nature it is, to be wholly ſimple or
uncompounded, is it convenierit to this
thing, to ſuffer no diffolution? It ſeems to
me to be fo, ſaith cebes.
therefore, which are alwaies
* Second Poſition; in one manner, and equally
Things that are al-
waies the ſame that comparated , 'tis highly
is Eternal) are void conſentaneous, that they be
of compofition; fimple or void of compoſi-
the ſame, (that is, tion: but thoſe that are
moral), are com- ſometimes in one manner,
pounded.
ſometimes in another affe-
cted, that is ſubject to alterations; 'tis con-
ſentaneous, that they be compounded. i
think ſo. Let us then return to thoſe we
noted in our precedent diſcourſe. That
very Eſſence, which by the force of queſti-
ons and anſwers we have defined to be re-
ally exiſtent (namely God] is that equally
the ſame at all times (with-
Third Poſition; God
who gives Being to
out alteration] or not?
all creatures, and is namely the Equal it ſelf, the
Goodneſs it fell; not Beautifid, the single, that
only wiſe, but wiſdom it ſelf , &c.) is neither compounded,
nor ſubjeđ to any mutation, but [RLOvoh des ) uniform, know-
ing no [ason KS Tooxíaord] Madow of ckange,
is.

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
143
is, what really exiſteth ) doth it never re-
ceive any the leaſt alteration? That Eſſence,
faith Cebes, muſt of neceſſity be ever the ſame,
without alteration. What ſhall we deter-
mine of many Beautifuls, as men, or horſes,
or garments, or others however the like, e-
qual and beautiful, or all that are compre-
hended under the ſignification of the ſame
name: are theſe alwaies the ſame, or is any
thing contrary to them, nor they'to them-
ſelves, nor among themſelves, that I may ſo
ſpeak, are they alwaies the fame? The ſe tru-
ly, ſaith Cebes, are never exactly the ſame,
Theſe therefore you may perceive either by
your touch, or ſight, or any other ſenſe :
but thoſe that are alwaies the ſame, you can-
not by any other way, but by reaſoning of
your Mind, comprehend ; for they are in-
viſible, and fall not under the power of
ſenſe. Tou Speak truly, ſaith he, in every
point. * Will you there-
fore, that we inake two * Fourth poſition;
Kinds of things; one,viſibles of things, or (as he
the other, inviſible? Let us ſpeaks) do čisu stos
lay down theſe two Kinds(for öv]@v, two forms of
a foundation][aith he. Let are alwaies theſame,
us alſo put the inviſible to which are inviſi
be that which is alwaies the are murable, which
fame : the viſible, that are viſible.
which
there are two kinds
Beings. Thoſe that
ble: and thoſe that
2

144
PHEDO: D? of the Soul.
* To
to various mutati.
which is never perfectly the ſame. And that
too, ſaith he. Now, ſaith he, do we conſiſt
of any other things but Body and Soul ? Of
no other , faith he.
* Application of all which of the two Kinds
theſe four poſitions ſhall we decree the Body to
to the preſent ar.
gument. There are be more like, and more al-
in Man,two diftin& lied? 'Tis evident to every
things. One, viſible,
not alwaies the man, ſaith he, that the body
fame, but obnoxious is more of Kin to the Viſi-
ons, and ſo compound ble. But the soul, is that
and mortal: the o- viſible or inviſible ? Inviſi-
waies the ſame, and ble, to men, ſaith he, cer-
fo incompound and tainly. But thoſe things
immortal', namely that fall under ſenſe, and
the Soul; whence it
is evinced, that the thoſe that do not ; did we
Soul is rawattanúa not refer them to the nature
TO] indiſſoluble,
and conſequently of men, or are they to be
immortale
referred to any other na-
ture, think you? To Human nature. And
what is to be concluded of the Soul, that it
is viſible , or that it is inviſible ? Inviſible.
This therefore is to be fixt, that the Soul
can by no meanes be perceived by the light
.
Right. Therefore the soul is more like to
that Inviſible Kind , than the Body is: and
the Body more like to the Viſible. Of neceffa-
ty, Socrates. * We ſaid a * Impediments of
the Soul from its to
cloſe conjuntiion with the body.
while

P HEDO, D? of the Soil.
145
while ſince this alſo, that the Soul, when
it uleth the ſervice of the Body to conſider
any thing, either by ſeeing, or hearing, or
any other ſenſe (for, to conſider a thing
by the body, is to conſider it by ſenſe ) is
then drawn by the body to thoſe things
that are never the ſame; and that it errs,
and is amuſed, and giddy, as a Drunkard iš
giddy by a vertigo in his brain. Altogether
Jo
. But when the Soul doth contemplate
by it ſelf, it aſpires to what is pure, to what
alwaies exiſteth and is immortal, to what is
Ever the ſame: and as being of Kin there:
unto, is alwaies converſant therewith, after
it is of its ſelf and by it ſelf, and hath pow-
er, and ceaſeth from error, and is wholly in
thoſe things that are alwaies the ſame, ſo far
forth as they occur to it. And this affecti-
on of the Soul is called, Wiſdom. To ſpeak
rightly, Socrates, in every word. To which
Kind therefore, both of theſe we mentio-
ned above, and thoſe we now deſcribe , is
the Soul more like,and more allied ? * Any
man ( in my opinion", faith
he Jeven the moſt ignorant,
* Concluſion chat
will from this way and me-
and Immortal ; the
thod of reaſoning, grant, Fody , groſs and
that the Soul is more alike,
and more cognate to the All and whole, that
L
15,
the ſoul is Divine
mortal,

146 PHEDO.
,D2 of the Soul.
is, to what is ever the ſame; than to what
is never exactly the ſame. And what the
Body ? To that which is never the same. Thus
obſerve alſo, after the Soul and Body have
conie together into the
The Affe&iors and fame [ man ] that nature
Offices conſigned by
the inſtitute or law commands the body to be
of Nature, that is ſervant thereunto, and to
of God acting by his obey the dictates of its ſu-
both foul and body; perior, the Soul ; and ap-
that the soul is to points the Soul to rule and
rule, the Body to
obey.
give law to the Body.
From the reaſon of theſe
things, which of the two ſeems to you to be
like unto the Divine ; and which to the
Mortal [being?] or is that Divine by nature
qualified and made to command and go-
vern: but the Mortal, to be ſubject, and to
ſerve? I conceive fo. To which is the
Soul like? Truly, Socrates, the Soul is like
to the Divine; the Body, to the Mortal.
Cbferve, I pray, ſaith he, whether from all
we have already alledged, it be certainly
vinced, that the Soul is moſt like unto the
Divine, and Immortal, and Intelligent, and
Vniform, and Vnalterable: but the Body is
nioſt like unto the Human, and Mortal, and
Non-intelligent, and Multiform, and Diſſo-
luble, and Alterable. Can we oppoſe any
thing

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 147
Grand Conclufi.
thing to theſe, as if they were not right and
convincing? We cannot. Theſe things then
being thus eſtabliſhed, is it
not proper and peculiar to
on;that the Soul be-
the body, to be capable of ing indiffoluble by
Diſſolution: and to the death , ſurvivesc
Soul, to continue indiflo- ternally
.
luble ; or ſomewhat next to this? Why not?
You clearly ſee therefore , faith he, that
when a man is dead, the viſible body,
(which we call dead, and to which it be-
longs to be diſſolved, and to fall aſunder,
and be blown out) doth not incontinently
ſuffer any of theſe, but remain ſome conli-
derable time, if a man hath by pleaſantneſs
and moderation treated his Body to the
time of his death. For when the dead Bo-
dy is fallen, and enbalmed, as they who are
enbalmed in Egypt ; it continues almoſt in-
tire, for a very long and indeterminable
time; and though ſome members thereof
ſhall have ſuffered corruption, yet the
bones, nerves, and all of the more compact
fort, endure (if I may ſo fay) for ever. Do
they not? Certainly
. * But here the soul,
* Here he explains the Emigration of the Soul out
of the Body, at the inſtant of death ; fubjoyning, thar Souls
after death, gn thither, whither the fimilitudes of their com
gitations, affect ons, and habits lead them.
L 2
and

148 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul
n inviſible thing, goes away into another
place, a place noble, pure, not to be ſeen
by the eyes of Mortals, among the infernal
ftades, really to a good and provident
God; whither indeed(if God be ſo pleaſed)
niy Soul is preſently to go. For the Soul
it ſelf being in this manner qualified and
freed from the Body; will it,think you, pre-
fently vaniſh into air, and periſh? as many
men ſay. No, Cebes and Simmias; it is ve
Iy far from all poſſibility of being diffol-
ved. But truly, in that manner we have
explained, the matter is rather diſpar aged
than illuſtrated; for the nature of it is more
noble: ifat leaſt the Soul depart pure, car-
rying along with it nothing from the con-
tagion of the body: as that which did,
whilſt it remained in this life, willingly and
of choice hold no communication with the
Body, but declined and avoided it; and rea
tired into it ſelf, imployed all its powers by
cogitation to avoid it. Which is nothing
elle but to Philofophize rightly,and in good
earneſt to anticipate deaih by familiar con-
verſat o 1 of thoughts.Is not this a meditati-
on of death? wholly. * Doth not there-
* From wh'ch principle he infers, that a good soul free from
the cont gi on and deluſion of the corporeal ſenſes, goes
immedia: ly after death, to a certain inviſible and moſt blisful
place, where it is again conjoynd to God, to whom it is of
Felices
Kin and like.

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 149
[Felices poſthac Anime, guas corpora nullis
Fædarunt vitiis', nullaq; libidine morſas
Detinuere olim, que, dum ſub carne latebant,
Contemplatrices abstracte a carne volarant
Sæpius ad Cælos, Celis poſt fat 2, quibuſcun
Fædera fanxerunt viventes facra, locantur,
Eternaq; illic Lætantes luce fruuntur. ]
fore the Soul being ſo comparated, go to
that Divine Being like unto it ſelf? Di
vine, I ſay, and Immortal , and wiſe ? To
which when it comes, it becomes perfectly
happy, being freed and exempted from er-
ror , from ignorance, from terrors, wild
Loves, and all other Human Evils; and as
men are accuſtomed to ſpeak of ſuch as
have been by folemn expiations purged,
and initiated to Sacred Rites,living eternal-
ly with the Gods. Shall we ſpeak thus, Ce-
bes, or otherwiſe? Thus in all points, by
Jove, faith Cebes. But if the Soul depart out
of the Body polluted and impure, as having
hitherto converſed wholly with the Body,
andſlaviſhly ſerved it,and being both by its
own errors, and by the luſts of the Body
faſcinated, efteemed nothing true but
what's corporeal, namely that groſs matter
hatis touched, feen, drunk, and uſed to
Venereal pleaſures: and on the contrary,
that
L 3

150 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
that which is to the eyes dark and inviſi-
ble, but may by the power of underſtand-
ing be perceived, and by the inſtitutes and
diſcipline of Philoſophy be comprehended:
this, I ſay, having been accuſtomed to hate,
and abhor, and dread; can we imagine that
a Soul thus diſpoſed and vitiated, ſhall de-
part pure, and intirely collected into it felf?
By no means, faith he. *1
* From the popular think, we ought rather to
and Spirits, he adds decree, that ſuch a Soul
that Sculs loaden departs involved in, and
with groſs & earthy contaminate with the ſtains
affe&ions, wander
in grief about moe and infection of the corpo-
numents and Se real maſs, which the very
pulchres; for a cer-
rain time only; that converſation and familiari-
is,(according to the
Pythagorean Dream) that Soul hath ſo continu-
ty of the Body, becauſe
they light upon o.
ther Bodies ſuitable ally and intirely converſed
to their former af- therewith, and with much
ons and manners.
[-At tenebroſæ animæ,nimium quæ carnibus olim
Demerſ& jac uereſuis, quos tetra libido
Atq; voluptates, folum quas fenfus alebat,
In terris notæ, pofthac de carne foluta,
Aſpectum Cæli, cum quo commercia nulla
Viventes habuere, timent, nec luce fruuntur:
Sed tenebris dileữa nimis prope corpora femper
Ferales errant Umbre , mæstæq; sepulchra
fcations
inclinati.
care

PHEDO, Dz of the Soul. 151
Buſtaq;fædacolunt:Hinc noctu fpeara videntur,
Gu& terrent homineszanima ſunt iſta malorum,
na quoniam craffa funt corporeaq; videntur.
Majus nofter, in Supplem. Lucani lib. 4.]
ture.
care and cogitation imployed it ſelf in
purſuit of ſuch things, hath as it were in-
grafted into it, and made a part of its na-
Certainly. This we are to hold, to
be with a kind of burden, groſs, heavy,ter-
rene, viſible : wherewith when ſuch a Soul
is inveloped, it is weighed down and car-
ried to a viſible place, by fear of that inviſi-
ble one, and (as it is vulgarly ſaid) it wan-
ders about Monuments and Sepulchres ;
where have been ſeen certain darkſoni Ima-
ges of Souls ; which Apparitions ſuch
Souls repreſent, that have not departed
pure, but yet retain ſomething of that groſs
and vilible matter, and are therefore be-
held. 'Tis very probable, Socrates. Nor is
it leſs probable, cebes, that thoſe are not the
Souls of good men, but of Wicked and Im-
pious that are compelled to hover and Aagg
about thoſe places , ſuffering the puniſh-
ment of their former vicious Education;
and reſtleſly wandring until by deſire of
that corporeal following, they are again in-
tangled in, and bound to a Body, And
L 4
bound

152
PHEDO, D of the Sout.
bound they are (as is probable) to one of
ſuch inclinations and manners, as they in
life had imployed their thoughts upon.
What are theſe things you ſpeak, Socrates ?
How it is probable , that thoſe who have
minded gluttony, railing, wantonneſs, &c.
nor cautiouſly abſtained from them; put on
the forms of Aſſes, and of other wild Beaſts
.
Do not you think it probable ? Tou ſpeak
with great probability. And that they who
highly valued and honoured injuſtice, op-
preſſion, tyranny, rapine; are turned into
the Kindes of Wolves, Hawks, Kites, and o-
ther Beaſts-of Prey? or ſhall we ſay, that
their Souls go to ſome other place ? Truly,
faith Cebes, to no other. We are therefore
to hold, that all Souls ſtrive to go, whither
the fimilitudes of their cogitations and incli-
nations carry them. 'Tis very perſpicuous
truly ; and why not? Are
* A conſellary of the then they the happieſt of
former Do&trin;thar
th6 rue way to that men, who upon deliberate
Cold, is not by Poli, dence in a popular way of
with purpoſe exerciſe civil pru-
tic and Theatrical
virtues , which are life, which they call tempe:
bur ſhadows, but by
the ſerious Audy of rance, and juſtice, contract-
wiſdom.
ed meerly from converſa-
tion and cogitation, without the precepts
and diſcipline of Philofophy? and do they
go

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 153
go to the beſt place? How can theſe be moſt
happy? Becauſe 'tis likely, that they come
again into ſome civil and tame kind of Ani-
mals, as Bees, Drones, Piſmires; or return
into men, and become moderate. Very like-
ly. But to paſs into the kind of Gods, is pof-
fible to none but who hath duly exerciſed
himſelf in the ſtudy of wiſdom: for he ha-
ving been all his life poſſeſſed with deſire of
learning, departs out of this world pure and
undefiled. And 'tis upon this account, that
Cebes and sinmias, that good and genuin
Philoſophers; abſtain from all pleaſures of
the Body, and conſtantly and firmly con-
rain themſelves, not permitting their appe
tites and paſſions to carry them away in
purſuit of ſenſual delights ; nor fearing the
ſubverſion of their private Eſtates, and the
invaſion of poverty, as the vulgar and ava-
ricious do; nor dreading the ignominy
and reproach of mean ſpirited men, as the
ambitious and lovers of great Honours do:
but abſtracting and alienating their minds
from all ſuch (ſplendid trifles. ] Nor would
it be confentaneous to them to do otherwiſe,
Socrates, ſaith Cebes. No, by Jove would it
not, faith he. Therefore
A lively and re.
Cebes, faith he again,all who markable deſcripri
take care of their Souls,and on of that Philoso..
imploy

154 PHEDO, Dy of the Soul.
the body, &c.
phical life. the ploy not their life in pam-
the contemplation of pering and adorning the
God, and its work, body ; neglecting and re-
to inſtruå men to pudiating all thoſe things,
bitant affe&ions of they walkt not in the way
,
of thoſe we mentioned be-
fore, who are wholly ignorant whither
they are to go. But Philoſophers being
perſwaded, they ought to do nothing con-
trary to the precepts of Philoſophy, or to
the ſolution and expiation thereof; leave
the common road of the multitude ] and
proceed in the way that [ Wiſdom hath
ſhewn to them, and follow the conduct
thereof, as of their Leader. How? Socra-
tes. I will tell you ſaith he: Men ſtudious
of Diſcipline know, that Philoſophy, when
it undertakes their Soul really bound and
glewed to the body, ( which Soul is con-
ſtrained to contemplate things themſelves
through the body, as through
a Bride-well,
and not ſingle by it ſelf able to contem-
plate it ſelf: and when it wallows in all
ignorance, and perceives the power and ef-
ficacy of that bond, which exſerts it ſelf
even by luſts themſelves; namely that the
Soul thus bound and impriſoned doth im-
ploy all itsforce and powers to be by luſts
and deſires more cloſely enchained ) I ſay,
Tolgas
men

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 155
men ſtudious of Diſcipline know that Phi-
lofophy, when it hath found their Mind or
Soul ſo diſpoſed, is verſed chiefly in this, by
degrees to mitigate and compoſe (the Soul]
and to deliver it (from thoſe Fetters; ]teach-
ing, that that conſideration which is perfor
med by the ſervice of the eyes, is full of
error; and that the information of the Ears
and all other ſenſes, is likewiſe full of error,
perſwading it to retire from them, and not
to uſe them, unleſs when neceffity compels:
and declaring and exhorting it, to recollect
and congregate it ſelf; and to give credit
to none but it ſelf, ſeeing that it ſelf alone
can by it ſelf underſtand and comprehend
that which exišteth by it ſelf; and that what
it conſiders by other things, becauſe ſubject
to alteration, itought not to account true,
but only ſuch as the Senſes repreſent it; but
that what it ſelf clearly perceives,is intelli-
gible, and unperceivable
by Senſe. * When
therefore the Soul of a man
truly a Philoſopher con- profane and vicious
* Deſcription of a
ceives, that it ought not to life. Whercof the
oppoſe this deliverance and greateſt Evil is, that
infranchiſment, comes thus fible both of their
to abſtain from pleaſures fins and miſery.
and luſts, and as much as it is able, from
griefs alſo and errors: thus caſting up its
account,
fuch men are inlen.

156 PHE DO, DJ of the Soul.
account; When a man is poſſeſſed, and
even tranſported with great joy or aſtoniſh-
ed with exceffive grief, or inraged by the
ſtings of Lufts, he doth not by thoſe [ paſſi-
ons] fuffer ſo much of evil
, as one would by
common and vulgar judgment think: whe-
ther (for example ) that he ſhould purſue
thoſe Luſts, feel thoſe Diſeaſes and undergo
lofs of his Eftate in vain: but, what is the
higheſt of all Evils, he ſuffers this, that he
perceives not, nor takes notice that he ſuf-
fers. What mean you , Socrates ? faith Ce
bes. Becauſe every mans Mind is conſtrai
ned to rejoyce and delight vehemently up-
án occaſion of ſome things, and to eſteem
that wherein he ſuffers that affection] to
be moſt manifeſt and moſt true; though the
ſame be not ſuch. Now are theſe things
diſcernable by the ſenſe, or are they not?
wholly. But in this affetion , is not the
Soul obliged to fympathize with the Body?
In what manner ? Becauſe every pleaſure,
and every grief, as if armed with a nail, af
fixeth, and as it were with a buckle faſtneth
the Soul to the Body, and makes it corpo:
real, thinking all things to be true, 'that the
body dictateth, For, that it is conſtrained
to agree with the Body in opinions, and to
be delighted at the ſame time with it ( as
1

PHEDO, Dl of the Souil.
conjunctura
I conceive) comes from the conjecture of
the one with the other : and thence the
Soul is carried about by the common force
of education and cuſtomes, fo as it cannot
go to the ſhades below, 2. e. to a ſecond life,
pure and undefiled, but departs polluted
with ſtains and infection derived from the
body, and then preſently falls into another
body, and as if ſowed therein, grows to it,
remaining void of that divine, pure and uni-
form converſation. Tou ſpeak great truths,
Socrates, ſaith Cebes. By reaſon of theſe
things, Cebes, they who are
truly ſtudious, are modeſt * Conclu fon monis
and valiant; but not by rea-
care and circumſpe-
ſon of thoſe that are in the dion a Philoſopher
opinion of the vulgar. What ought to beware,left
think you? Not by reaſon of the ſnares tof Luſts
zmlgar things, certainly
. For and Corporeal plea-
the Soul of a Philoſopher by his profeſſion
fures, againſt which
will not hold it ſelf obliged he proclaims open
to free it ſelf from the inſti-
tutes of Philoſophy, and letting looſe the
bridle of its precepts, give it ſelf up to the
deſires either of pleaſures or pains, and per-
mit it ſelf to be again chain'd to the body,
and ſo render its work imperfect, weaving
and unravelling its web, like Peneloper as
they ſay) but will reſolve it to be moſt de-
tory
With what
War.
cent

158
PHEDO, De of the Soul.
cent, to comfofe all thoſe deſires, and follow
the conduct and mandates of reaſon, and to
be alwaies converſant herein, to contem-
plate things true and divine, and ſuch as
may not be carryed about by temerity of
opinions; and being bred up and nouriſhed
with them,conclude it ought in this manner
to live, while life lafteth : and when death
comes, to go to a place agreeable and cog-
nate to its nature and be delivered from hu-
man evils. From this Education, it can fear
nothing grievous, by its owninſtitution ſtu-
dioully labouring in this matter , Simmias
and Cebes; not fearing, to be, in the moment
of its departure from the body, diſſipated,
and blown out by winds, and ſo to vaniſh, as
to have no longer exiſtence any where elſe.
The second part 1ė Socrates having thus
of the diſputation;
wherein Plato pro ſpoken, there ſucceeded a
poſes the chief Opi- long ſilence. And he was
Immortality, of the plainly obſerved profound
Soul; obſerving the ly to revolve in his mind
circumſtances con- the diſcourſe he had deli-
ducing coeloegrace vered; and thereupon ma-
het of b'ny of us appeared to medi-
tate upon this matter. But Cebes and Sima
mias conferred a little betwixt themſelves.
Whom Socrates beholding, what,faith he, is

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 159
the ſubject of your conference ? Doth any
thing ſeem to be deficient in my diſcourſe?
There remain truly many doubts and ex-
ceptions , if one would with due ſtrictneſs
examine and purſue things more particular-
ly. If your private talk be of any other
matter, I ask nothing ; but if ye doubt of
the verity of ought delivered in my dif-
courſe, delay not either to declare your
ſcruples,if ye think they may be more com-
modiouſly and ſatisfactorily ſolved; or to
admit me to bear a ſhare in the conference,
in caſe ye believe any thing of light or uti-
lity may ariſe from my aſſiſtance. And I,
faith simmias, will ingeniouſly confeſs the
truth. Each of us remaining in ſuſpenſe,
have been urging one the other, out of de-
fire of ſatisfaction, to propoſe our Queries
to you: but fear reſtrains us, leſt we might
give you trouble, and our interrogations
prove importune and unpleaſant, in this
your calamity. At this Socrates mildly
ſmiling, O ſtrange ! faith he: how hard a
task ſhall I have, to perſwade others that I
am far from eſteeming this my preſent caſe
a calamity, ſince I cannot prevail upon you
to believe I am ſo: but ye fear, leſt my condi-
tion be now more afflicted, and ſad, than at
any time heretofore in my whole life. Truly
ye

160
PHEDO; D of the Soul.
ye ſeem to think me to be inferior to
Swans, in the way and faculty of divining.
* They, when they firſt
* Socrates in way perceive they are to die, as
of preface, firſt port they ſang before, ſo they
own stedfaſt belief fing moſt at that time, re-
of the Souls immor- joycing that they ſhall
the vulgar tradition forthwith come to that
of the finging of God, whoſe ſervants they
Swans (concerning
But men, being them
which he ſhews him are.
felf ſomewhat fu- felves afraid of death, feign
perftitious; ) and lies in diſparagement of
diſquiſition to be of Swans,and report that they
fo' high moment, lamenting their own death,
that we ought not for very grief ſtrain their
therein without due voice more vehemently at
attention of mind, the approach of it; not ob-
admit error inſtead ſerving, that no Bird ever
ſings when he is diſpleaſed
or pinch'd with cold, or af-
fected with any pain whatever ; no not the
Nightingal, nor Swallow, nor the Hooper,
which they ſay, are wont to ſing for ſor-
row: but neither theſe, nor Swans ſeem to
ſing for grief; but, as I think, becauſe they
are Sacred to Apollo, and ſo being endowed
with ſome inſtinct of divining, when they
fore-ſee the Goods that are reſerved apud
inferos, they chant forth their joy, and are
of truth.
more

PHEDO, D! of the Soul. 161
more delighted that day, than in their
whole life before. And for my part; ſeria
ouſly I conceive my ſelf to be conjoyned
with theſe Swans in confort of the ſame ini:
niſtry, and conſecrated likewiſe to the
fame Deity: and that I have received from
that my Lord and Maſter, no leſs power of
Divining; and that I depart out of this life
with equal quiet, and calm ſubmiſſion.
Wherefore nothing remains to hinder you
from ſpeaking and interrogating whatſoe
ver ye pleaſe, concerning our former argu-
ment, whilſt the Eleven [ Officers ] of the
Athenians permit. Socrates, faith wel replied
Simmias. I will freely declare my doubt:
and Cebes here will likewiſe let you know
how far he doth nof embrace what you
have delivered. For I think my ſelf to
have as certain and confirmed knowledg of
theſe things, as you Socrates; that either
they are in the number of impoſſibilities,
or extremely difficult. But as for what
things are ſaid concerning them, not to exa
amine them with every reaſon, and all mno-
ments of arguments alledged, or wholly
to reject them, and to leap back from them,
before you have endeavoured with all pof-
fible contention and equity of mind, ern
to the laſt effort, and to wearineſs, to per-
M
pend

162 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
pend them : this I think to be the part of
an effeminate and incurious fpirit. And
herein, this one thing is to be įſtudioully en-
deavoured, that either we may learn, or
find out how theſe things are; or if that
cannot be done, chooſing and fixing upon
ſuch a reaſon, among thoſe that occur to hu-
mane underſtanding , as may be more firm
and convincing, i.e. as may be leſs ſubject
to refutation ; fet up our reſt therein : that
being thereby, as by a ſhip, carried ſafely a-
long, we may eſcape the dangers and diffi-
culties of this life; unleſs any can be waf.
ted and tranſmitted over in ſome firmer ve-
hicle, i. e. ſome Divine Word. Truly I ſhall
not be aſhamed to ask , ſince you ſay this:
nor will be a cauſe of accuſing my ſelf here-
after, that I had not ingeniouſly explained
to you what my opinion is concerning this
matter. For, Socrates, when I both by my
felf, and with another, by comparing rea-
ſons, enquire into it: I do not find your ar-
guments to be perſpicuous and convincing.
Perhaps, ſaith Socrates, this is your opinion:
but tell me freely, how far, and wherein my
diſcourſe fails of being perſwalive. Thus
fir, ſaith he : * that any man may ſay the
* The firſt contrary Opinion, that the Soul is Harmony
and concents and ſo both reſults from, and periſhes with the
Fody.
fame,

PHEDO, 02 of the Soul. 163
fame, with equal reaſon, both of Harmoa
ny, and of a Harp, and of other inſtruments
of Muſic: namely that Harmony is a fome:
thing inviſible, and incorporeal, and moſt
beautiful, and divine, in a well tuned and
concordant Harp or Lute : but the Harp
it ſelf, and the ſtrings are bodies compound,
and terrene, and of Kin to that Mortal [na-
ture.] And when any one hath broken the
Harp, or cut the ſtrings; if another ſhould
aſſert, and by the ſame reaſon you urged,
that of neceſſity that Harmony doth ſtill
exiſt, and is not deſtroyed (for it would be
no difficulty at all, that the Harp is ſtill in
being, and that the ſtrings being broken,are
mortal; but that the Harmony, which was
by community of nature, and by cognation
conjoyned with that Divine and Immortal
[Being] died and vaniſhed, before the
Mortal,) but continue in Being ſome where;
and that the wood and ſtrings would rot
and fall to duſt ſooner than the Harniony
decay, or ſuffer any thing of deſtruction.
For truly, Socrates, I conceive that you alſo
have thought our Soul to be ſomething like
this [ Harmony: ] as if our body being ex-
tenſe, were held together by hot and cold,
dryand moiſt; and from the mixture of
theſe, reſults a certain teniperature and cori-
M 2
ſenie

164 PHEDO, D of the Seui.
ſent, which is the Soul ; and this , after
thoſe Elements or Ingredients have been
exactly and in due proportions mixed and
tempered together. If therefore the Soul
be a kind of Harmony, namely when our
Body ſhall be infinitely extended, and ſo
freed from difeaſes and other evils: that
then it is abſolutely neceflarythe Soul(how
Divine foever) ſhould periſh, as other Har-
monies, that'are either in Sounds, or in all
the works of Artificers : and there the re-
liques of every body endure a long time,
until it be burned, or diſſolved by putrefa-
faction. Obferve then what we ſhould an-
ſwer to this diſcourſe, if any ſhould affirm,
that the Soulis a certain temperament ari-
ling from the ingredients of the body; and
that in that diffolution which is called death,
it firſt periſheth. Here Socrates, after he had,
as he uſed often to do, caſt his eye round
about, and ſmiled; Simmias hath reaſon,
faith he. If therefore any of ye be more
copious, and better furniſhed with argu-
ments,
than my ſelf, why doth he not an-
ſwer? for Simmias ſeems not lightly or
raſhly to have touched that diſcourſe. Yet
before I anſwer , I hold it convenient, we
firſt hear Cebes, what he alſo reprehends in
my diſcourfe,that gaining time for thoughts,

PHEDO, D, of the Soul.
165
we may well conſider what to reply; then,
that having fully underſtood their objecti-
ons, we may either yeild to them,or by ob-
ſerving their impertinency, ſo defend and
make good our own Doctrine. But go to,
Cebes, ſaith he; declare to us what troubles
you in this argument, ſo that you cannot al-
ſent and give credit to my words.
I will tell you , faith ce-
The second con-
bes: To me your diſcourſe
feems to be involved in the the Soul, tho more
frary opinion ; that
incommodity, and to be firm and laſting
than the Body; bc-
guilty of the fame fault I cauſe more excel-
obſerved before. For, that lene : doth yet at
our Soul exiſted before it length, after it liath
came into our Body, I deny our many bodies
not: for that hath been ſucceſſively, decav,
and through weak-
fairly, and (ifit may beſaid neis perish; which
without offence Jabundant- cebes illu trates by
ly demonſtrated. But that
an example.
any thing remains to us after death, ſeems
to me not ſufficiently proved: For, that the
Soul is ſtronger and more laſting than the
Body; I ſo hold, that I ſhall not grant that
Exception of Simmias to be true; becauſe
the Soul ſeems to be far more noble and
excellent than all theſe. Why therefore
(faith Reaſon it ſelf ſpeaking to me) do
youyet doubt and refuſe to believe ? ſince
you
animated and worn
M 3

166 PHEDO, Dk of the Souf.
you ſee, that when a man is dead, what'of
him was more infirm and weak, yet remains:
do you not conceive it to be neceſſary,that
what is more firm and laſting , muſt at the
ſame time remain conſerved ? But now
do you perpend and conſider this allo, if
I ſhall ſay anything conſiderable: for I want
as much as Simmias did (it ſeems) fome I-
mage or ſimilitude. For, to me theſe things
ſeem to be ſpoken, juſt as if one ſhould, an
old Weaver being dead, ſay thus of him ;
the man is not deſtroyed, but remains ſafe
fomewhere: and ſhould bring this argument
for it, the garment of his own weaving
wherewith he was cloathed, which is yet
extant. And if another ſhould, after refu-
fal of aſſent to that argument, ask, whether
of the two is more laſting, man or a gar-
ment, which may indeed be conſumed by
the
very uſe of wearing: and a third ſhould
anſwer, that man is much more laſting; and
ſo ſhould think it demonſtrated, that that
| man doth by ſo much the rather remain
ſafe, becauſe what is leſs laſting , hath not
periſhed. This I conceive not to be ſo.
Obſerve alſo what I ſay; for any one may
think it to be ſaid fooliſhly and imperti-
nently. For this Weaver having worn out
and woven many ſuch garments, died the
Jast

PHEDO, 02 of the Soul. 167
laſt of theſe many, but before the laſt: and
yet man is notwithſtanding neither worſe,
nor more infirm, as for what concerns that
matter. This very Image (I think)the Soul
ſhall receive by reaſon of the Body. And he
who ſhall ſay the ſame of them, may ſeem
to me to ſpeak ſoberly and moderately, if
he conclude the Soul to be of long durati-
on ; but the Body leſs firm, and of ſhorter
duration But I would ſay rather , that
the Soul conſumes and wears out many Bo-
dies, though they all live many years. For
if the Body be diſſolved and periſh, the
man yet ſurviving, and the Soul alwaies
weaves a new what is worn out: it will be
wholly neceſſary, that the Soul at that time
when it ſhall die, have the garment it laſt
wove; and that it periſh before that laſt
garment only. But when the Soul once
dies, the Body then foon demonſtrates the
imbecility of its nature , and quickly rot-
ting vaniſheth. Wherefore according to
this reaſon, it would be highly extravagant
for us to grow proud upon this perſwalion,
and to be confident, that after we are dead,
our Soul doth ſtill remain ſome where. For
if a man ſhall grant (more than what you
affirm; namely, that our Soul was pre-exiſt-
ent before it entred into the Body;yea that
M 4
NO-

168
PHEDO, 02 of the Soul.
nothing hinders but the Souls of ſome may,
after they are dead, ſurvive and continue;
and that they are often born, and die again,
that is, they often come and go ( for that
ſuch is the virtue and power of the Soul, as
that it conſerves it ſelf through the various
moments of its biith) though, I lày, a njan
ſhall grant all this, he would yet be forced
to confeſs this, that the Soul doth not only
endure vaſt labour in all thoſe many acceſſi,
ons, or approaches of generations but alſo
at length is by one of thoſe decenſions or
dillodgings, that is by ſome one death,whol-
ly deſtroyed and aboliſhed. But this death,
and this diſſolution of the Body, which
brings deſtruction at laſt to the Soul ; let
no man ſay he underſtands. For it is ime
poſſible, any of us ſhould comprehend it by
fenfe. This being thus, it is abſurd for any
man living , who cannot prove it, with a
certain fooliſh and ignorant ſecurity to be
confident that his Soul is immortal, and ex-
empt from deſtruction. Beſides, 'tis neceſ-
ſary for a man drawing near to his death, to
fear for his Soul, left in that very preſent
disjunction of his Body, it utterly periſh,
and be aboliſhed.
Bez - When

PHEDO, D4 of the Soul, 169
US,
When we had heard them
ſpeak thus, we were all caſt
Here Phado pau-
ſech a little; oppor-
into very great perplexity tunely intimating,
of thought, as afterwards that the immortali
fome confeſſed to others; thing boch ſo im-
ty of the Soul is a
for that having been ſtrong, portant, and ſo ab,
ly perlwaded
by the prece- ought not to be by
ſtruſe, as that it
dent diſcourſe of Socrates, an empty and unad-
they ſeemed to trouble viſed credulity em-
braced, but ſtedfaſt.
þy deſtroying that belief, ly rooted in the
and by raiſing ſcruples in mind, upon the
our minds; ſo that we not and convincing ar-
only doubted of what we guments.
had embraced, but inclined
alfo to deny our affent to the like argu:
ments in the future: as if either we were
not competent judges of theſe things, or the
things themſelves were of that improbable
nature, as not to admit belief.
Ech. I excuſe you, Phedo, by the immortal
Gods : for it came into my head to revolve
the very ſame thing in my thoughts, whilft I
heard your recital of their ( uncomforta-
ble]exceptions and ſcruples. To which rea-
ſon therefore ſhall I give aſſent? for that
diſcourſe of Socrates, which to me ſeemed
the more probable, hath now loſt its title to
my belief. For that opinion, that holds the
Soul to be an Harmony, hath alwaies won-
derful-

170 PHEDO, D of the Soul.
derfully prevailed, and doth now prevail
with me : and the preſent reherſal recalls
to my, memory, that the reaſons thereof
have heretofore pleaſed me.
And I again
ſtand in need of ſome other diſcourſe (as a
repetition from the very beginning)to per-
ſwade me, that when the Body dies, the
Soul doth not die too. Tell me therefore,
by Jove , how Socrates purſued that dif-
courſe ; whether,he,as you have confeſſed,
were obſerved to be more offended at the
oppoſition; or whether with a mild and
compoſed mind, he brought relief to his
diftreffed aſſertion: and whether that re-
lief were effectually ſtrong and prevalent,
or weak and deſtitute of ſolidity: all which
(I pray ) recount to us as particularly and
plainly as you can.
Phe. Truly, Echecrates,
An opportune re I have alwaies much admi-
admirable modeſty,
red Socrates ; but never ſo
and exemplary how much as at that time. It
manity of Socrates, was no wonder , he was
fhewn in Diſputa-
provided of an anſwer: but
well worthy the higheſt
admiration, that he firſt received and ſolved
thoſe Objections of the Young men plea-
ſantly, benignly, and ſweetly; and then
fhewed himſelf ſenſible of, and concerned
in
fle&tion
upon
the
tion,

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 171
in our diſſatisfaction and perplexity. After-
ward he adminiſtred Phyſic moſt oppor-
tunely to our doubting minds, recalld us
as overcome and flying away, and made us
turn our faces again [ with courage and
hope that we might follow him, and with
recollected thoughts more attentively con-
ſider his Diſcourſe.
Ech. How effected he that?
Phe. I will acquaint you how ; for I ſate
at his right hand, near the little Bed , on a
low ſtool, ſo that he was much above me.
When therefore he had rubbed his head a
little, and preſſed down his hair, ( for he
uſed ſometimes in that manner to play with
his hair) to morrow, ſaith he,Phedo, you will
perhaps cut off theſe fine locks. That, So-
crates, is convenient. No, ſaith he, if you
believe me. Why ? quoth I. This very
day, ſaith he again,both I will cut off mine,
and you ſhall cut off yours, if our diſcourſe
be dead,and we not able to revive it. Were
I you, and had loſt my diſcourſe , I would
make a vow, as the Argives did, I would
never let my hair grow, till I had vanquiſh-
ed and ſubdued the Harangue of Simmias
and Cebes. But, quoth I, Hercules himſelf is
ſaid not to be ſufficient to encounter with
But faith he, encourage me
two at once.
as

172 PHEDO, DP of the Soul.
as Jolans, while the day laſteth. I do en-
courage you, ſaid I, not as if I were Hercu-
les, and you Jolans : but as if I were foa-
lus, and you Hercules. No matter which
faith he ; but firſt let us beware left we be
circumvented by ſome chance. By what?
ſaid I. That we be not,
A previous caution, faith he, haters of words, as
no prejudice againſt they who purſue men with
words , as fome do peculiar and perſonal ha-
againſt particular tred : for a greater evil
man reaſon may in- cannot fall upon any man,
vent various excep- than to be involved in that
tions in thisſublime kind of Odium and Averſi-
Argument, to elude
the
force of verity.
And both forts of ha-
tred, of men and of dif-
courſes, flow from the ſame Fountain. For
hate towards mens perſons flows , and as it
were ſteals in from hence ; that if a man hath
without due circumſpection given full credit
to another, taking him to be perfectly vera-
cious, and upright, and faithful: and after-
ward find him to be a knave, faithleſs,
turn-coat and time-ſerver z and this happen
often to the ſame man, and from thoſe
whom he took for his moſt loving and moſt
familiar friends ; at length he feeling the
ſhock of his wrongs, and as it were bruiſed,
grows to hate all, and to conclude within
on.
a
him-

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 173
himſelf, that there is nothing of integrity
or ſincerity in any man.
You are in the
right, ſay I. is not that therefore ſhameful
and odious? and manifeſt it is, this man
would, without skill in Human occurrents,
and the practice of the World, hold a com-
merce with men. For if he made uſe of
men with diſcretion and art, and eſtimated
things according to their nature; he would
find, that there are ſome men good, and o-
thers bad: not many very good, nor very
bad ; but every man of a middle order be-
twixt both. How ſay you that? faid I. As
of things, replied he, that are great or little
in extremes; do you think any thing more
rare, then a man extremely great, or ex-
tremely little; or a Dogg, or any thing elſe?
or than one that is ſwift, or flow, or beauti-
ful, or deformed, or white, or black to the
laſt degree? Do you not obſerve, that all
extremes are very rare : and that middle-
rate things are frequent and numerous? They
are ſo, ſaid I. Do you then think, that if
there were appointed a combat of improbi-
ty, that men of the higheſt rank therein
would be found to be but few ? 'Tis likely
they would, ſaid I. It is ſo, ſaid he. But in
this manner diſcourſes are not like to men
(for you going before me, I tread in your
foot-

174 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul
ties
foot-ſteps, and follow you (but thus far the
reſemblance and cognation betwixt them
is to be obſerved, when a man hath firmly
afſented to a diſcourſe as true, without any
arguments of that art whereby belief is uſuá
ally obtained; and afterward the ſame dil-
courſe ſeem to ſome to be falſe,and to others
to be true : * and this come
* Againſt the Scepa to paſs chiefly from thoſe
of things problemd. men who are verſed in that
tically, conciuding kind of diſcourle which is
of nothing, but
this, that nothing
called [ 'Alſomoyes ] an ac-
hould be certainly count of Cauſes, (i. e. when
place they may be upon examination of the
undeceived, who cauſes of things, what argu-
having not read, or
ments can be alledged on
at leaſt not under-
ſtood Plato, have yet either part, are urged and
been ſo bold as to debated) they forſooth at
ticiſm,asif he taught length think themſelves to
nothing of certa in- be the wiſeft, and alone to
have underſtood, that there
is nothing of truth and certainty in things
or words; but that all are carried and tum-
bled up and down tumultuouſly,as by ſome
Euripus, never continuing in the ſame ſtate
and poſture. Tou ſpeak truth, faidi. Were
it not then (faith he) a deplorable calamity;
ifwhen a dilcourſe is true and certain, and
ſuch asmay be commodioully, comprehen-
ty.
ded

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
175
ded and underſtood : yet afterward any
man ſhould fall from the truth of it, and
waver in uncertainty, becauſe in thoſe ve-
ry reaſons, which being alledged on both
parts, may ſeem one while true and another
while falſe, he hath been curiouſly verſed ?
Would not he, I ſay, accuſe himſelf?. He
would not confeſs his own dulneſs, but
growing at length diſcontented, would
transfer his fault upon the diſcourſes them-
ſelves, and during the remainder of his life,
purſue them with perpetual hatred and de-
teſtation : becauſe it had by their fault hap-
ned, that he had been deprived of the juſt
power of Verity and Science. By Jove,
anſwered I, it would be very ſad and deplo-
rable. * Firſt therefore,
continued he, let us avoid * Socrates addeth,
this danger, and not per- loſophical inquifiti-
ſwade our felves of the on,we come to that
wrong through prejudice, point, that we can-
as if we thought there a thing is fo or ſo
were nothing of ſolidity cught to accuſe, not
or foundneſs in diſcourſes the Reaſons them-
themſelves: but this rather ſelves, but our jelves
let us believe, that we our mity; and ſo in
and our own infir-
ſelves are not of found and this very Argu-
upright judgment; and that ment.
we are to endeavour with courage and re-
ſolu-
that when in a Phi-

176 PHEDO; De of the Soul.
folution to render our felves more diſcern
ing and judicious: you and others, for the
remainder of your lives and I, for my death.
But methink, I am not now treating of this
Subject, as becomes a Philoſopher, but ra-
ther contentioully and obſtinately, as the
groſiy ignorant are wont to argue. For
they, when they doubt of any thing, take
little care of what properly belongs to the
nature and inveſtigation thereof: but ap-
ply their whole ſtudy and diligence only to
this, to perſwade others to think as them-
ſelves think. And I feem to differ from
them only in this. I am not ſolicitous to
convince others of the truth of what I ſay
(unleſs ſo far forth as it comes in my way
occaſionally and by the by, to do it)but ra-
ther that the fame things may appear to my
ſelf to be really ſuch as I repreſented them
to be. Thus, my Phedo, Ireaſon: and do
you look with how great acceſſion of pro-
fit and emolument to others.] For if the
things I ſay, be true ; tis happy for me that
I believe them: but if nothing remain to
me after death, yet at this time that inter-
cedes before it, I ſhall be the leſs unpleaſant
to thoſe who are preſent, than otherwiſe i
might be, in caſe i lamented and deplored
my death. But the ignorance of this mat-
1
ter

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 177
ter will now no longer perſue me (for that
would be evil) but be ſoon blotted out.
And thus prepared, Simmias and Cebes,
addreſs my ſelf to ſpeak. Do ye the while
ſo govern your affent, as to have little con-
ſideration of Socrates; and all you can of
truth. If I ſeem to ſpeak truth, give me
your afſent: if not, oppoſe me with all
your power of reaſon; being chiefly in-
tent upon this, that I may not through this
my vehement ſtudy and ardor of thoughts,
lead both my ſelf and you into error,& de-
part, like a Bee, leaving my ſting behind
ine.
To come therefore to the
thing in diſpute; firſt do ye Coming now to
recal into my memory what
the Refutation of the
opinions
things ye have ſaid, unleſs I objeđed; for more
ſhal appear to youto remem- firſt rebearseth them
berthem of myſelf. Simnic faithfully.
as, as I think, diffident of
of what Ialleged, doubts and fears, that the
Soul, though more divine and excellent
than the Body, may yet periſh before it, as
ariſing fron, and depending upon a kind of
Harmony or conſent [of the organs of the
Bcdy.] But Cebes ſeems to grant this, that
the Soul is indeed more laſting than the
Body :uand yet holds it to remain uncer-
N
tain
contrary

178 PHEDO, Dp of the Soul.
we
tain, whether the Soul after it hath paſſed
through, and worn out many Bodies by
uſe, doth not at a certain time, it ſelf alſo,
leaving its laſt body, periſh and vaniſh a-
way; and whether that death be not the
deſtruction and abolition of the Soul, for as
much as the body never ceaſeth to periſh.
Are not theſe your Opinions, Simmias and
Cebes ? Both aſſented that they were.
But, faith he, whether do
Refutatior of the ye reject all my precedent
on, that the soul diſcourſes: or do ye repu-
eing only Harmony, diate only fome, and admit
as ir ariſeth from others ? Some , ſay they,
the Body, ſo it pe-
reject , fome we approve.
What do ye reſolve con-
cerning that part of my diſcourſe wherein
I affirmed, that Diſcipline or Learning is
Reminiſcence? which being eft.bliſhed, it
would neceſſarily follow, that our Soul hath
exiſtence Come where, before it is conjoyn
ed to the Body. I confeſs, ſaith Cebes,
both
that when you delivered that Doctrin,
I ſuffered my ſelf to be perſwaded: and that
now I wholly adhere to it, if to any other
opinion. But you muſt be of another judg-
ment, replies Socrates, if you yet continue
in that perfwaſion of yours, that Harmony is
a thing compounded; and the Soul a cera
riſterh with it.
tain

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
199
*
would it be neceflias
Soul conſiſteth of two
tain Harmony, conſtituted of thoſe things
that are extended and diffuſed through the
Body. For otherwiſe you would contra-
dict your ſelf, as having ſaid, that this Har:
mony was made before thoſe parts and ora
gans of the Body, of which it ought to be
compoſed, were in being. Will you admit
this? By no means, Socrates, ſaith he. Do
you conceive then; faith
he, that theſe two affirma-
* An Argument
from an Abfärdity,
tions can ſtand together : thus
. If the Soul
namely, that the Soul hath were Harmony, then
exiſtence even before it rily conſequent, chac
takes poſſeſſion of a Human the soul was not
Body; and that the ſame prä-exiſtent to the
Body, which yet
was before granted
things that are not yet in and proved. And
being? For you have no indeed firm , as to
ſuch Harmony to which its form; but infirm
as to its ground,
you liken it: but firſt the
namely the ſuppofi-
Harp, and the ſtrings, and tion of the præ-ex.
iſtence of Souls.
the ſounds, and ſo the con-
fonances and tunes by certain (Muſical
modes compoſed, are made: and the Har-
mony as it is laſt formed; ſo it firſt periſh-
eth. And how can this Opinion of yours
agree with your other ? By no means, ſaithi
Simnias. And yet notwithſtanding, faith
he, it is highly realunable', that if it conGile
N 2
and

180 PHEDO, Dy of the Soul.
and agree with any tenent, it muſt be chiefly
with this concerning Harmony. It is ſo,ſaith
Simmias. That diſcourſe therefore is diſa-
greeable to you: but ſee which of the two
you will take ; this, that Diſcipline is Re-
membrancez or this that the Soul is Harmony.
Rather the first, faith he, Socrates. For this
hath pleaſed me, without any firm demon-
ſtration, only by indication of a probable
and elegant example : whence it hath been
approved by many others alſo. * And I,
out of conſcience of my
* Becauſe this Opis own experience, ſaith So,
nion defer.ded by
Simmias,relieth on crates; am of opinion, that
ly upon a probable thoſe diſcourſes which en-
Example ;
deavour to teach by things
fionally admoniſhes, only like unto truth, are
that we are not es- fitted meerly to oſtentati-
fily to reſign up our
on: and that if a man be not
ples.
very conſiderate and cir-
cumſpect, they are highly fallacious, both
in Geometry, and in all other Arts and Sci-
énces. But that Doctrine concerning Re-
miniſcence and Diſcipline is propt up by the
ſolid firmament of an Hypotheſis certain
and worthy of belief. For it hath been
ſaid, that the Soul is ſomewhere ſo exiſtent,
before it comes into the Body, as that the
Eſſence of it is qualified to obtain the true
there-
fore Socrates ccca.
belief
to
Exem-
appel-

PHEDO, 02 of the Soul.
181
appellation of what it is, [i. e. of a Human
Soul.] And this poſition, as I firſt admitted
it into my thoughts, and perſwaded my ſelf
of the verity thereof, ſo have I rightly and
fully embraced it. For from the force of
theſe arguments, it ſeems to me clearly ne-
ceffary, that neither my ſelf, nor any man
elſe ought to give credit to him who holds
the Soul to be Harmony. *
What? ſaith Simmias, doth
*'A Second Argus
it not ſeem conſentaneous gent, from a double
meut,ſtrong and co.
both to this Harmony,&to Abſurdity.
ny another compoſition to
be of ſome other nature , than the things
are whereof they are compoſed, or from
which they reſult? By no meanes.
can any other thing, I think,
do or ſuffer ought, but *Firſt poſition;that
what the principles of it do compounds alwaies
arethe ſame in their
or ſuffer. To this he aſſen- affections, or a&i-
ted. For it is abſurd, the
ens and paſſions,
Harmony ſhoul go before whereof they are
the things out of which it compounded.
is made or compoſed, but neceſſary it
fhould come after them. To this alſo he
yielded. Very far then it is from poſſible,
* Second poſition that the nature of a compound wholly de-
pending upon the nature of its principles, cannot be con
trary to them,
that
* Nor
with
the things
N 3

183 PHEDO, D of the Soul.
mony
cannot be
ny.
that Harmony ſhould by a contrary reſiſt-
ence be moved, or a found or by any other
way
be repugnant to its own parts.Very far
indeed, ſaith he. * What? is it'not of the
Effence of Harmony,that it
* From theſe two be ſo far a Harmony, as it
prfitions, ariſech a
F..corem; that Har: conſenteth? I understant
you not, ſaith he. If that
more or leſs Harmo. Harmony be more and
more adjuſted and compo-
fed , will it then be more and more a Har-
mony? and on the contrary, if it be leſs
and leſs adjuſted and compoſed, will it
be leſs and more ſcarcely a Harmony? Tes
doubtleſs. Is it then incident to the Soul, to
be more and more, and leſs and leſs a Soul,
from the moſt minute parts of it ſelf [ins
creaſed or diminiſhed ? Not at all, faith he.
Go to then by Jove.
* Is
one Soul ſaid to be good,
and to be endowed with
underſtanding and virtue :
and another, to be evil, and polluted with
folly and improbity? and are they truly
ſaid to be ſo? Truly without doubt. But of
thoſe who hold the Soul to be an Harmo-
ny, who hath affirmed, that theſe things,
Virtue and Vice, are in Souls themſelves?
Hath any ſaid, that in them are alſo Con-
* That Theorem
accomodated to the
Soul
cord

PHEDO, Dc of the Soul. 183
not a
cord and Diſcord ? and that the Good is
compoſed of a certain concordant conſent,
and in the concord it felf, containeth a-
nother concord: but the Bad is both dif-
cordant,and containeth not another diſcord
in it ſelf? This in truth,faith Sinmias, I can-
hath laid down this opinion for truth, will
affirm it. But that, replies Socrates, hath
been already granted , that one Soul cannot
poſſibly be more or leſs a Soul, than ano-
ther: and this was the grand article of our
common aſſent, that one Harmony cannot
by any meanes be more or leſs a Harmony
than another. Was it not? I confeſs it.
And that this is nor more nor leſs a Harmo-
ny, nor more nor leſs fitted and adjuſted to
the ration of Harmony. Is this ſo? It is. Now
that which is nor more nor leſs adjuſted,
hath that at ſometimes more or leſs of Con-
cent: or equally ? Equally. Therefore one
Soul, as it is a Soul , is not more or leſs a
Soul, than another Soul. and conſequently
cannot be, by a certain concent, more or leſs
conformed. Right. Being thus affected or
conſtituted, can it be no otherwiſe partici-
pant of concord and diſcord? No truly.
Being thus affected , can one Soul receive
more or leſs of Virtue or Vice, than ano-
ther :
N4

184 PHEDO, D of the Soul.
the Soul.
ther : ſeeing that Vice will be Diſcord, and
Virtue Concord? Nothing more one than a-
nother. Nay rather, Simmias,from the rule
of right reaſon, no Soul will be participant
of Vice, if it be Harmony; for Harmony
excludes all Diſcord. * Nor
* That Virtue is can a Soul, perfectly a Soul
,
the Harmony, and
Vice the diſcord of receive Vice. How can this
From be evinced from our for-
whence he colle&ts,
if the Soul be Har-
ammer conceſſions ? for by
mony; ſince Virtue this reaſon alſo the Souls of
and Vice in the Soul all living creatures will be
undergo the ration
of concord and Diſ. equally good ; if at leaſt
cord; it muſt follow, they be all equally compa:
have place in the rated. It ſeems to me, faith
Soul
, and ſo no ſoul he, they are fo Socrates. And
be vicious ; that is, doth that, laith he ſeem to
Evil be rightly ſaid; and that
yould bę wholly theſe Reaſons are pertinent
taken away ; than
which there cannot to this diſcourſe, and con-
be a greater abfure fentaneouſly demonſtrated,
dity.
as if this be a true Hypotheſis,
that the Soul is Harmouy? Not at all, ſaith
he. What then? faith he; of all the parts
of man, doth any bear rule, and poſſeſs an
Empire over the reſt, beſides the Soul, eſpe-
cially if it be prudent? No truly. Whether
doth it rule , if it indulge and favour the
affections of the Body, or oppoſe and coni-
Good
and
tremand

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul, 185
tue and vice are in-
tremand them ? for Example : If when the
Body ſuffers heat or thirſt, the Soul incline
it to abſtain from drink ; and when hun-
ger preſſeth the Body, the Soul divert it
froni eating ; and in infinite other occaſions
we obſerve the Soul reſiſting and giving law
to the ſenſes and appetites of the body.
Doth it not? Yes doubtleſs. * And have
we not in our precedenten-
* A ſecond abſurdi-
quiry granted, that the Soul, ty; ſeeing it is evi-
ſuppoſing it to be an Har- dent, that both vir-
mony, cannot poſſibly have cident to the Soul,
affections contrary to the (as appearsfrom the
organs of the Body by rarional and irra-
cupidities
which its preſumed to be thereof) ifthe Suut
ſtrain'd
up to a higher, or
let down to a lower pitch; follow
would inevit.bly
or repugnant to the paſſi- Soul is not a Sout,
that is, the con
ons of the inſtruments of
Od ta] things plainly
which it is compoſed: but inconfiftent wouldb
muſt inevitably obey their compounded, as if
dictates and commands,not ſurdly imagine to
preſcribe and give law to mix Diſcord with
them? This we have gran-
Harmony
ted, faith he ; why ſhould we not? Now
then, doth not the Soul appear to do quite
contrary, when it exerciſeth Dominion o-
ver, and diſpenſeth commands to the vari-
ous members and organs of the body, out
of
were Harmony, it
that the
4 mau ſhould ab.

186 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
of whoſe combination and ſyſtem you fup-
poſe it to reſult; and when for the moſt
part during life, it ſtrives to control all their
inclinations and appetites, with abſolute So-
veraignty ruling and moderating them:
more ſeverely chaſtiſing ſome, by the rules
of ſtrict Diet and Medicine, and more gent-
ly and mildly correcting others ; with me-
naces and advices compoſing the luſts, an-
ger, and fears of the Body; as if in man
himſelf there were two diſtin&t natures, or
as it were perſons, one ſpeaking to the o-
ther (as Prince and Subject? as Homer alſo
imagined in his odyſes, where he ſaith of
Vliſſes,
Knocking his breast, to’s Heart he thus did
Speak
Be not thou, Heart, in theſe affli&tions weak:
But bear them bravely, in thy ſelf ſecur'd.
Thou heret ofore haft greater ills endur'd.
Think you that the Poet feigned this out
of opinion, that the Soul it ſelf was an Har-
mony, and ſuch a frail thing, as to be at the
will and conduct of the corporeal affe&ti-
ons, and unable to lead and rule them: or
rather out of a full perſwalion, that the Soul
was a thing much more noble and divine,
than

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 187
* We can:
than a Harmony? He ſeems to me, by Jove,
Socrates, to have ſignified, that the Soul is,
not a Harmony, but ſomething incomparably
more Noble and more excellent.
not therefore (believe me
hold the Soul to be an* conclufion; that
Harmony: for manifeſt it Souls being Harmo-
the opinion of the
is, that if we do, we ſhall ny,is to be explo,
both diffent from that Di- ded, as many waies
vine Poet,' and contradict sett er best
even our ſelves. Tou are in the right, faith
Simmias.
Well then, faith Socrates ; we have com-
modiouſly !(I think) appeaſed and ſilenced
the reaſons of the Theban Harmony: but,
Cebes, how ſhall we, in the next place, ſolve
thoſe of the * Cadmean?
Tou, ſaith Cebes , are moſt * Both Simmias and
likely to find out that: for it ſeems tiat Socra-
Cebes being Thebans
you have admirably, and tes here facetely al-
beyond our expectation, Cadmus the Thehan,
luded to the fable of
diſcourſed againſt that Har- of armed men grow-
mony (which Simmias de- ing out of the earth;
fended.] For when I heard many times contra-
him propoſing his doubts, I dided and oppoſed
thought it ſtrange even to ces.
wonder, if it were poſſible
for
any man living to find a reaſonable fo-
lution of them; and it ſeemed admirable
to
becauſe Cebes had
him with freſh for:

188 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
to me, that he was not able to ſuſtain the
very firſt charge of your ſpeech.'Twil there-
fore be leſs admirable, if the Cadmean opi-
nion (propoſed by me] meet with the ſame
fate. Good Cebes, ſaith Socrates, ſpeak not
thofe magnific things of me, I beſeech you;
leſt
envy riſe up, and diſturb our following
diſcourſe. But let God alone with that care
allo; while we encountring (as Homer ſaith)
hand to hand, try the force of what you can
allege.se
Of all your Enquiries,
He firſt recites,and this is the grand and capi-
Ita e itheſecond con-
trary opinion.
tal one
en You judge it fit
to be demonſtrated, that
the Soul of man is free and exempt from
deſtruction and death : and this, leſt a phi-
loſopher, when at the near approach of death,
he is of a reſolved and undaunted courage,
and believes that after death, he ſhall befar
happier than in the ſhort race of this life;
ſhould out of an ignorant and fooliſh confi-
dence, triumph and exſult. Now to affirm,
both that the Soul is a thing firm and di-
vine, and that it exiſteth of it ſelf, before
we are born: this, I ſay, hinders not but all
your arguments may come ſhort of the main
queſtion in hand : they may ſerve to evince
indeed, not the immortality of the Soul, but
only

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
189
only the duration of it: for that an immenſe
time before its entrance into the Body, it
hath exiſted; and then both knew and did
many things: and yet notwithſtanding all
this, we are under no neceſſity of conclu-
ding from thence, that it is immortal : nay
rather on the contrary, it ſeems reaſonable,
that its very entrance into, and conjuncti-
on with the Body, is the beginning of its
deſtruction,and a kind of ſickneſs; ſo that it
lives a fad and miſerable life here, torment-
ing it ſelf with the ſenſe of (various ] cala-
mities; and at laſt periſheth by that end
which is called death. But you ſay, that
as to our ſecurity from fear of death, it
makes no difference, whether the Soul come
only once into one Body,or into many ſuc-
ceſſively. For in truth, no juſt cauſe of
fear is given to any, unleſs he be very filly,
and unable to give a reaſon why the Soul
is immortal
. And (this I take it) is the ſumm
of what you ſaid, Cebes : which I induſtri-
ouſly recite, and more than once inculcate,
that nothing may eſcape us, and you may
add and detract what you pleaſe. But I,
faith Cebes , at preſent derand neither to
detract, nor to add any thing : and you
have faithfully recounted what I ſaid.
Then,

190 PHEDO, Du of the Soul.
3
Then Socrates , ! after he had a pretty
while recollected himſelffrom iritentand fixé
ed thoughts: the thing you ſeek, ſaith he, is
not to be contemned, Cebes : as being that
,
for the ſake whereof it may concern us,ex-
quifitely to enquire into the cauſes of Genes
ration and Corruption. I will therefore, if
you pleaſe, purſue my diſcourſe, declarinig
what are my, ſentiments concerning the
fame. Let it be fo, ſaith Cebes. Attend you
then diligently, while I explain niy thoughts:
I have faith he even from
* Accomodating my Youth, been ſtrargely
order and method enamour'd and inflamed
of the opinion he with the ſtudy of that part
deſigns to refute; he of Wiſdom which they call
prejudices upon the Hiſtory of Nature. It
which it was groune ſeemed a magnific and nož
ded; and then cach-
eth, that the true ble thing to underſtand the
canje of the Souls cauſes of all things , why
fought in God, who this or that particular was
is [eurd zñs cwis made, why it ſhould be a:
2.SG), the very gain deſtroyed , and by
form
what reaſon it had exiſt-
ence: and I very often tur:
ned my ſelf up and down, firſt revolving
theſe things in my mind. Why Animals,
after hot and cold have undergone a cer:
taia ſort of putrefactiofi (as ſome ſay) are
nourish
firſt removes the
of life.

PHEDO, Dl of the Soul. IgI
nouriſhed: and whether the Blood be that
by which we have the power of Underſtan-
ding and growing Wife ; or Aire , or Fire,
or none of all theſe ; but rather the Brain:
which gives us the ſenſes of hearing, ſeeing,
ſmelling, Quc. Whether out of theſe, Me-
mory be made, and opinion; and from me-
mory and opinion ſetled by quiet, Knowledg
be made, in the ſame manner. Perceiving
clearly the corruptions of theſe, and obſer-
ving the contingents both in the Heavens,
and on the Earth: I at length thought my
felf to be ſo unfit for theſe contemplations,
that nothing can be more unfit. Whereof I
will bring a juſt and convenient argument.
So far was I amuſed and blinded by this way
of conſidering , that what things I had be-
fore clearly and certainly (as I my ſelf, and
others alſo thought) known; that was i
obliged to unlearn and forget,and to doubt
of very many others alſo, and chiefly of
this, why a man grows and increaſes in
ſtature and ſtrength : for this I before
thought to be evident to every one, that he
was nouriſhed, becauſe he eat and drank:
and that ſo he came tobe increaſed in bulk
and ſtature: and when from meats, particu-
larly from fleſh, there comes an addition of
fleſh, and bones are added to bones, and ſo
in

192
PHEDO; D2 of the Soul.
in the ſame manner to all other parts their
own proper nouriſhment is brought and af
ſimilated: I thought that by this means a
man was increaſed, from a little tiny infant;
to his full ftature. Theſe were my thoughts
then; and do you think them reaſonable
and ſatisfactory? To me, ſaith Cebes, they
ſeem to be ſo. Now conſider alſo what re-
mains : I alſo thought the matter to be ſuf-
ficiently evident, when a great man ſtood by
a little man, that he was greater by the
head; and one Horſe greater than ano-
ther, and what's yet more evident, that ten
were more than eight, becauſe two had
been added to eight, and that two cubits
were more than one, becauſe of double the
length. And
NOW,
faith Cebes , what think
you of theſe things ? Far, by Jove, faith he,
very far I am from thinking, that I under:
ſtood the cauſe of them: ſo that now I can-
not ſatisfie my ſelf, whether if one be ad-
ded to one, the firſt one be two; or whether
that which hath been added, and that to
which it is added, be made two, by the ad-
dition of one to the other: for I wonder,
if when each of them was ſingle and apart,
both were one,and not two; but after their
growing neerer one to the other, that very
coming together hath been the cauſe why
they

PHEDO, Dż of the Soul. 193
they were made one. Nor if a man by cut-
ting divide one into two, can I yet under-
ſtand, how this cutting afunder of orie
thing, hath been the cauſe why they are
two: for that cauſe is then contrary to their
being twợ : fòr theħi when they were pla-
ced neerer together; and one was put to
the other: and now when they are remo-
ved and ſeparated one from the other ; I
cannot perſwade my ſelf, that I know, that
one is made. Nor do I know any thing
elſe (to ſpeak all in a word) why it is, or
why it cealeth to be, or whether things be
inade in that manner and order (that Natu-
ral Hiſtory hath delivered:] but I lightly
inix therewith ſome other mode; and this
I in no ſort embrace.
* But when on a
time I heard one reading
and relating out of a cer-
Here accomoda -
ting his last diga
tain Book (as he ſaid) of courſe corcerning
Anaxagoras, that there is a the unreaſonablenes
of acquiefting in ſe-
certain ( Nous ] Mind that condary and remote
Cauſes, to his pre-
feat ſubjeđ, he repreherds Anaxagoras; firſt for that put-
ring a certain Univerſal Mind (as he called it) for the Firſt
Cauſe of all things, he had notwithſtanding by ſearching
more curiouſly into ſecond Cauſes, and aſcribing more to
them, than was fit, deſtroyed that Firft Caufe or Mind, by
himſelf ſuppoſed ; then for that in aſſigning ſecond Cauſes,
he had fixed upon Remote ones, ſuch as could nor ſhew,what
was Beſt ; that is, what is proper and peculiar to every
thing:
diſpoſeth

194 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
diſpoſeth and governeth all things in order,
and is the cauſe of all things: I was much
delighted with the Univerſal Cauſe, and
thought it to be in ſome degree rightly com-
parated, namely that a Mind is the cauſe of
all things ; and I thus determined with my
felf, that if there be ſuch a Mind that go
verns and diſpoſes all things, then certainly
it doth diſpoſe all things to the beſt advan-
tage, and place every thing where it is moſt
convenient it ſhould be placed. I added,
that if any man would deſire to inveſtigate
the cauſes of fingular things, how they are
made, and how they periſh; he would be
obliged to enquire alſo, by what reaſon, and
in what manner it hath been beſt for them
to be, or to ſuffer or act any thing;and that
from this reaſon, nothing is to be under-
ſtood by man, both concerning himſelf, and
of other things, but what is beſt and moſt
excellent; and in ſine, that it is neceſſary
alſo that he underſtand what is Worft:*
for
that of contrary things
*dvàUthy 78 79 there is the ſame Know-
emsnache ei autt
There is de ame ledg, When I conſidered
this Doctrine , Iwith very
great pleaſure thought that
now I had found a Maſter, who would ac-
cording to myown hearts deſire , teach me
S:icnce of them.
the

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
195
the cauſes of things, Anaxagoras; and thar
he would explain to me firſt whether the
Earth werè flat and broad, or round; and
then would adjoyn alſo a more copious ex:
plication of that firſt Cauſe, and of Neceflija
that is, what is Best [for every ſingular na.
ture] and why that ſhould be beſt. Where-
fore it he ſhould affirm the Earth to be pla-
ced in the middle, he would more-over
give Reaſons why it was beſt for it to have
that poſition. --And if he ſhould have ſuffi-
ciently explained theſe things to
me,
I had
reſolved with my ſelf to lay down no other
Theory; or Form of Cauſes. And now I
had prepared my ſelf to enquire of him con:
cerning both the Sun,and the Moon, and the
reſt of the Planets and Stars; namely of their
celerity and converſions, and mutual res
fpects, and other Affections and Apparen,
ces; how far it was moſt commodious for
every one of them, to do and to ſu
ſuffer,
what they did and fuffered. For I did not
think that he who taught, that all things
are compoſed and governed by a Mind;
would allege any other cauſe of them, than
this, that it was Beſt for them to be as they
are. And ſo when he attributed and af:
figned a cauſe to every thing in particular,
and in common to all things
I conceived he
02 would

196
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. I
would not afſign that for a cauſe to every
thing in particular , namely what was pro-
perly and peculiarly beſt for each particu-
lar thing; and to all in general, what was
their common and univerſal Good. Thus
my hopes were great, and I pleaſed my felf
with mighty expectations, ſuch as I would
not have parted with for a very great ſum
of money; and with earneſt ſtudy I took
thoſe Books into my hands, and with as
much ſpeed as I could, I read them quite
through; that I might quickly underſtand
the Best and the Worſt. But (believe me)
i foon fell from that lofty hope : for when
I had made ſome progreſs in reading thoſe
Books, I perceived the man to uſe neither
mind nor judgment, nor to aſſign any
Cauſes to the compoſition and order of
things with conveniency: but putting cer-
tain Aerial and Ethererial [infuences and
many other abſurd [Chimera's] for the true
" Cauſes of things. * And me
* An Example fitly thinks the ſame fortune be-
remonftrating the falls him, that belongs to a-
folly of aſſigning Seo
ny other who ſhould ſay,
Whatſoever Socrates doth,
he doth with a Mind, and with judgment:
and then deſigning to explicate the cauſes
of the particular actions I do, ſhould further
bicom
ſay,
cond Cauſes.

P HEDO, D7 of the Soul.
197
fay, firſt that I ſit here, becauſe my Body
conſiſts of bones and nerves ; and that my
bones are folid and firm, and have their dif-
ferences and intervals of joynts betw ixt
them ; and that my nerves are ſo contrived
and formed, that they may be extended
and relaxed again, and environ and bind
the bones together with the fleſh and skin,
which contains and inveſts them. When
therefore the bones are raiſed up in their
joynts, the ſinews which are one while up.
on the ſtretch, and by and by relaxed, cauſe
me to have the faculty of moving, bowing,
and extending my limbs : and that by this
cauſe I come to fit bowed forwards in this
poſture. And that he might explicate the
cauſes of this my conference with you;
ſhould affirm them to be certain words or
voices formed of aire, and hearing, and infi-
nite others equally remote, but ſhould nego
lect the true and certain cauſez namely that
the Athenians having been pleaſed by gi-
ving their ſuffrages to condemn me: I am
likewiſe pleaſed to fit here, and it ſeems
more juſt, that I ſhould ſuffer the puniſh-
ment they have doomed me to ſuffer. Since,
by the * Dogg-starr, thoſe bones of mine
* This Oath was familiar not only to Socrates, but to Zone
alſo, witneſs Diogen. Laertius in vit.Soc.and settanus in his
Annotations on this place.
had
03

198 PHEDO, D of the Soul.
therein
had long ago been carried (as ļ think) as
mong the Megarenſians or Beotians, * by
order of that Beſt; if I had
Here Sacrates' is not judged it more juſt and
on, and occaſionally honorable to undergo, and
juflifie his refuſal ta patiently endure the pu-
fly to the Megaren. niſhment which the City
jars, or to the Bro-
tians, when Crita -hath decreed for me, than
uculd have perſwa- to live a fugitive or exile in
endafiinid hin another Country. But to
; as at large call theſe things, Cauſes, is
is recorded by Ple-
to in his Dialogue extremelyis
, impertinent,
fatitled crimo o Whereas if one ſhould ſay,
br that unleſs I had both bones
and finews, I could not do what actions I
had a mind to do, he would indeed ſpeak
truth. And yet notwithſtanding if any man
ſhould affirm, that by reaſon of my bones
and nerves, I do the actions I do, and that
I fofar do them with underſtanding and a
Mind, but not upon choice of the Beſt; tru-
ly he would reaſon but negligently and fu-
pinely. For this in truth, is not to be able
to diſtinguiſh and diſcern, that really there
is another cauſe ; and another ſomething,
without which a cauſe is not a cauſe. t. In
which error they ſeem tome to be involved
and amuſed, who groping as it were in the
dark, and abuſing the propriety of that

PHEDO, D, of the Soul. 199
namxe, call that Second a Cauſe. Some there-
fore, while they place about the Earth a
great gulph of Waters beneath the Hea-
vens, will have it that the Earth come there.
by to conſiſt and remain firm: others prop
up the Aire, its fundament, as with a loud broad
Kneading-tubb. But that virtue or power
which hath been able to conititute things
themſelves in the beſt manner, what it is and
how it doth conſiſt; this (I ſay ) they en-
quire not, nor conceive it to have a Divine
force and Energy: but imagine they have
found a new Atlas ſtronger than the firſt,
and by a kind of immortality much more
laſting, and more comprehenſive of all
things; and think that that Good and Beauti-
ful[Being] doth bind together, and contain
[ and ſupport nothing. For my part, I
would gladly learn from any man,the nature
and proprieties of that cauſe, whatſoever
But ſincel have not been able, ei.
ther of my ſelf to find it, or to underſtand
from any other, what it is : are you, Cebes,
willing I ſhould give you an account of the
Second Voyage I with exqniſite ſtudy de-
ſigned and attempted, for the finding of
that Cauſe ? 1 vehemently deſire to hear it,
they be.
faith he.si
Q. 4.
When

200
PHEDO, De of the Soul.
fitfire
When my mind was grown weary and
faint with conſidering things intently,I per-
ceived my ſelf obliged to beware, leſt that
might befal me, which uſually happens to
thoſe who gaze upon the Sun in an Eclipſe.
For their faculty of ſeeing would be taken
from them, unleſs they beheld the image
of the Sun in Water, or in ſome other the
like Diaphanous and Specular]body. Some
thing like this came into my mind, and I
feared left my underſtanding might be
wholly blinded, if I looked upon things
themſelves with my eyes, and attempted to
touch them with my ſenſes. * I held it
therefore very well worth
erates took in his my labour,to have recourſe
reſearches of the to Reafon, or at leaſt to that
Firft cauſe ; coming diſcourſe which retains the
to knowledg there
of by certain de prints of reaſon; and therein
grees; viz. by Brize to contemplate the nature
fons and Diſcourſes; and verity of things. But
which yet he faith
were efficacious and perhaps this Simile or Ex-
powerful , left, wc ample whereby I have en-
imaginarys know- deavoured to repreſent this
ledg to be thereby matter, will not be exactly
tiar as God is the moſt potent *cauſe of all
things, fo he is alſo the fole and moſt certain Cauſe of the
Soul. Which fundament is to be laid down as neceſſary to.
this diſquiſition, before we come to other reaſons nearer to
US.
fit

PHEDO, D of the Soutl.
201
fit and conſentaneous. For I do not fully
grant, that he who contemplates things in
the mirror of reaſon or diſcourſe, doth
contemplate them rather in images than in
works. Nevertheleſs I took this courſe,and
laying for a foundation, that reaſon which
I judg to bemoſt valid and moſt firm; what
things appear to me to have congruity
therewith, thoſe I put for true, both as to
Cauſes, and to all others : and on the con-
trary, what have no congruity there with,
thoſe I conclude to be untrue. Which ha-
ving thus noted in general, I will explain it
more fully to you: for yet, I conceive you
underſtand it not. Not very well, by fove,
ſaith cebes. Yet replies he, I here ſpeak nc
thing a new, but the very ſame I have,both
at other times, and in my precedent diſpu-
tation perpetually declared. For I am go-
ing to ſhew to you the image of that Cauſe,
in the reſearch whereof I have thus long
been verſed: and I again return to thoſe
[Ta TorvbgUMAT ] renowned [Excellencies]
and from them deduce my beginning; lay-
ing this down for a principle, That there is
a fomething Beautiful, Good and Great, and
every way perfect in and by it felf. Which
if you grant, I hope I ſhall, from thoſe at-
pributes of perfection, firſt ſhew you an
image

202
PHEDO, De of the Soul.
image of that Supreme Cauſe, and then con-
vince you, that the Soulis immortal. But
faith Cebes , ſuppoſing I grant this Ç your
Fundamental] there is no need of a longer
pre face to ſupport your concluſion. Cond-
der then, ſaith he, what are the conſequen-
ces of thoſe Perfections? if at leaſt your
opinion be the ſame with mine. For thus I
think, if there be any other Beautiful be-
fides that ſelf-beautiful
that it is Beautiful no
otherwiſe, than as it is participant of the
ſame ſelf- beautiful; and the ſame I affirm of
all. Do you embrace this Cauſe? I em-
brace it, faith he. I therefore, ſaith he a-
gain, underſtand no more; nor can I com-
prehend thoſe wiſe Cauſes: but if any en-
quire of me, why any thing is beautiful, or
why it hath a florid colour, or elegant fi-
gure, or any other the like fair quality; I
ſecurely paſs by and neglect all other Cau-
ſes, (with all which truly I am amuſed and
perplexed) and ſimply,and genuinely with-
out any Sophiſtry, and perhaps allo fooliſh-
ly, determine with my ſelf, that nothing
makes that thing beautiful, but either the
preſence, or communication of that ſelf-
beautiful, by what reaſon or way foever
that hath come to it. For that I do not yet
affirm: but this above all things I maintain,
that

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
203
* that by the ſole virtue
* An Axiom, cer-
and efficaey of that Beauti-
tain and evident,
ful,all things are made beau- that whatſoever is
tiful: for this I take to be in the Univerfity of
the ſafeſt anſwer I can give its exiſtence and
Nature, hach both
both to my ſelf, and to óc form from God a.
thers and firmly adhering and true cauſe of
to this truth, I believe I ſhall all things. And that
never be divorced from it; in the firft fundis
and think it ſafe to anſwer immortality, viz.
both to my ſelf and others, that God hatly en
that by that Beautiful alone immortalsonl;which
all things that are beauti- was before demone
ſtrared by Socrates,
ful, are made ſo. Do you who therefore in
think ſo too? I do. Like- this place
only
wiſe by Magnitude , that brings Examples for
thoſe things that are great,
are made great ; and thoſe that are greater,
are made greater; and thoſe that are leſs,
are made leſs by Imalneſs. Certainty. Nei-
ther would you admit, if any ſhould fay
that ſome other is greater by the head, and
another leſs by the head : but profeſs that
you ſay nothing elſe but this, that whatever
one thing is greater than another, comes to
be ſo by no other caufe but magnitude: and
whatever is leſs, comes to be ſo only by
ſmalneſs, and therefore is leſs by reaſon of
ſmalneſs itſelf. Fearing, I think, left, if
you

204 PHEDO; Dd of the Soul.
you ſhould have fàid, that ſuch or ſuch a
man is greater or leſs by the head; another
might contradict you, oppoſing this, that a
man otherwiſe little, is bigger
in the head
than another otherwiſe bigger. Beſides that
you ſay, the greater is greater by t ehead,
( which is but a ſmall thing) that is ſome
Monſtre, that you ſhould affirm a thing to
be great by that which is little. Are you not
afraid of this anſwer ? Tes, ſaith Cebes (mil-
ing. Are you then afraid, faith he, to ſay
that ten are more than eight by, two, and
exceed two by that ration, but not by
reaſon of multitude: and that two Cubits
are greater than one Cubit by the half, but
not by magnitude ? for there is the fame
fear. There is, faith he. And what? ifone
be
put to one, will you ſay that that putting
or acceſſion is the cauſe why they are made
two: orif one be divided, are you not a-
fraid to affirm that diviſion to be the cauſe
why one is made two? may you not cry out
aloud, that you are ignorant by what other
reaſon things exiſt, unleſs ſo far as every
thing is participant of its own proper nia-
ture: and fo you have no other reaſon,
why two are made, than ( that I may fo
ſpeak) the participation of Duity or Two-
neſs
. Sothat it is neceflary, that thoſe things
DO
which

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 205
which are to become two, participate of
that Duity; and thoſe that are to be one,
partake of Unity ? But as for thoſe cuttings
alunder, thoſe puttings together, and other
the like witty trifles; you may very well
omit them all ; and leave the honor of an-
ſwering them, to thoſe that are wiſer than
your ſelf. But you fearing your own ſha-
dow (as they fay) and diffident of your
own ignorance, would you, certainly ad-
hering to the firmneſs of that poſition, in
good
earneſt anſwer fo? and if any man
ſhould rely upon that ſame poſition, would
you neglect him and not anſwer, until you
had conſidered the conſequents, whether in
your judgment fome of them agreed or
diſagreed with others. • And when you
ſhould be obliged to render a reaſon there-
of, would you in like manner, laying down
another Hypotheſis, grant thoſe of the pre-
miſes that ſeemed beſt, until you ſhould ar-
rive at what is juſt and fit? At the ſame
time you would not confound things them-
ſelves (as the Contentious uſe to do)diſpu-
ting both of the principle reſolved upon, and
of the conſequents ariſing naturally from
that principle: at leaſt if you deſired to find
out ſome of thoſe things which truly are;
for thoſe perhaps have no conſideration; no
Guise
care

206 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
care of theſe things: but are endowed with
fo ſingular a faculty, that they are able by
their wiſdom to commix and confound all
things and yet pleaſe themſelves at the ſame
time. And as for you, if you be one of
thoſe Philoſophers, you will (I think ) do
what I ſay. Tou ſpeak very great truths, an-
(wer Cebes and Simmias.
Ech. They anſwered rightly, by Jove;
Phedo ; for it ſeems to me, that he fpake ad-
mirably well, and perſpicuoully to the ſenſe
and capacity of a man, even of a vulgar
,
wit.
Phe. He did, Echecrates; and ſo all that
were preſent, judged.cn
Ech. We who were not preſerit , are of
the ſame judgment, hearing only the re-
hearſal. But what were his Diſcourſes af-
terward. ivs no
Tolos b Phe. Theſe, as nicer as 1
Ancther Socratic can remember:When theſe
Argument of the
Souls immortaiity, things were granted, and it
taken from the was agreed upon anion
Second Cauſes, from us, that ſingle species or I-
svhence follows the mages are ſomething, and
ter requilite Policia that other things which
ons i Os boitlst communicate with them,do
zluni riaid challenge to themſelves
their Sirname: he then proceeds to interros
veic bis Ditco
SIS
gatio n

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 209
* For you
gations. Seeing you fay fo, faith he; do
you not in ſaying that Simmias is greater
than Soerates, but leſs than Phedo; imply,
that in Simmias are both Greatneſs and
Smalneſs at once? I do fo. But faith he
you confeſs in that that Simmias exceeds
socrates, it is not in reality fo, as it is expref-
fed in words.
think not that Simmias is ſo * Firſt Poſition that
comparated by nature, as in the collation of
he is Simmias; but only in themſelves are not
reſpect of the magnitude fimply, but their
wherewith he is endowed: Relationsor refpe&s
nor that he exceeds Socra- one to another.
tes, as he is Socrates, but that Socrates hath
ſmalneſs, being comparedto Simmias his
greatneſs. Right. Nor that Simmias is
exceeded by Phedo, as he is Phedo; but be-
cauſe compared to the ſmalneſs of Simmias,
Phedo is endowed with greatneſs. Right a-
gain. Thus then Simmias hath the appella-
tion of both great and little, ſince placed ini
the middle of them, he exceeds the one in
greatneſs, and by reaſon of his ſmalneſs,
yeilds to the others greatneſs. And at the
ſame time ſmiling, I ſeem, faith be, to be de-
lighted with words like an Hiſtorian. Is it
not as I ſay? He aſſented. This I ſay out of
deſire, that you may be of the ſame opinion
with

208 PHEDO, Dż of the Soul.
with my ſelf. * For Icon
* Second Poſition; ceive, that Magnitude it
that contraries, as
contraries, are nei-
ſelf isnot only never willing
ther made ; nor cae to be both great and ſmall
pable of exiſting to
gether, but either
at once ; but alſo that the
give place each to magnitude which is in us,
other, or periſh, never receives ſmaltieſs, nor
when one cones
upon another.
wills to be exceeded: but
of the two, cne either va-
niſhes and gives place ; when its contrary,
namely ſmalneſs,approaches ; or is deſtroy-
ed, when the other appears : for when it
hath once received and put on ſmalneſs , it
can be no longer greatneſs, nor is it willing
to be other than what it then is. As I when
I have received and put on ſmalneſs,and am
yet the ſame that I am; or am this ſame little
1. But that hath not dared, ſince it is great,
to be little. In the ſame manner alſo that
little that is in us, would not be made great:
nor will one of two contraries, while it is
what it is become what the other is; but ei-
ther it gives place, or periſhes in this paſſi-
on. Vern right, faith Cebes, as I conceive.
* Then one of thoſe who were prefent
* Objection from the Do&rine above demonſtrated, which
(eems repugnant to this poſition ; far it was before affirmed,
ebar Contraries are produced out of contraries; but here
he ſaith, that contraries cannot be together.
od da sota erillos
who

PH EDO, De of the Sout. 209
(who it was; I do not well remember) by
the Gods,faith he, was it not granted in the
precedent diſputation, that one contrary
may have being out of the other, viz. that a
greáter hath exiſtence out of a leſs, and a
leſs out of a greater: and that this is the ge-
neration of Contraries out of Contraries?
and now it ſeems to me to be ſaid, that that
hever is done. Here Socrates having in-
clined his car to the ſpeaker, you have, faith
he, manfully remembred what was delives
red: but, you underſtand not the diffe-
rence betwixt what is now ſaid, and what
was ſaid before.
* In the
precedent diſpute it was * That Objedion
ſaid, that out of one contra- folved, by reconcili-
ry is made another: but Poſitions ſeemingly
here 'tis ſaid, that a contra repugnant. Where
he alto diſtinguiſhes
ry cannot be contrary to it betwixt the form of
felf; neither that which is a contrary, and the
Subject that is life
in us, nor that which is in ſceptible of a conia
nature. Then we ſpake of trary; making good
his Theſis by various
thoſe things that have con- examples.
traries, giving theſe the Sir-
name of thoſe: Now we ſpeak of Contra-
ries themſelves , whoſe Sirname thoſe things
wherein they are, obtain. And theſe con-
traries we could never affirm to be willing
to receive mutual generationi one from the
P
other

210
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
me.
other. And converting his eyes upon Ces
bes, he ſaid, doth any of theſe things trouble
you, cebes ? Neither am I diſcompoſed,
faith Cebes, nor doth what you ſay trouble
* We are then agreed
* He returns to his faith he, that a contrary
Second Poſition; and, can never be contrary to it
both proves and i'.
luſtraces it by Ex
ſelf. Weare ſo, faith Cebes,
amples
Conſiderthis therefore with
me, ſaith he; whether you
can aſſent to it. Do you call any thing hot
and cold? yes. What as Snow and Fire? No,
Is any other thing hot, but fire: any thing
cold, but Snow? yes certainly. But this you
conceive (I think) that Snow, while it con-
tinues Snow, will never receive heat (as we
ſaid above ) but at the acceſſion of it,either
yield to it, or be aboliſhed. Right. And that
fire, at the acceſſion of Cold, will likewiſe
go out, or be deſtroyed ; but never dare,
after the admiſſion of Cold, to be what it
was, namely fire and cold. You ſay trué, faith
Cebes, To * ſome of this
* In Numbers, and fort alſo it uſually happens,
that they not only perpetu
ally account and deſign the fame Species by
the ſame name, but ſome other thing too,
which indeed is not that, though it alwaies
hath the form, thereof, when it exiſteth. But
their various forms.
Now

PHEDO, De of the Soul,
211
how perhaps what I ſay, will be more eaſi-
ly explained in this manner. Ought an Odd
number to have this name wherewith we
now mark it, or not? Yes doubtleſs. This da
lone of all things for this I ask or ſomewhat
elle, which though different from Odd,
ought nevertheleſs alwaies to call it by its
own name; becauſe the nature of it is ſuch
as never to defect from Odd ? This I ſay, is
that very thing, as the number of three,and
many other numbers fuffer. Now conſider
this in the number Three; are Three to
be called both by their own name, Threen
and by that of odd alſo, though Odd be
not the fame with a Triad, or Ternary ? But
thus comparated is alſo a Ternary, and
Five, and every half of a number; fa that
though it be not the ſame as Odd, yet ala
waies every one of them is odd. Two like-
wiſe, and Four, and again every other Series
of number , though it be not the ſame as E-
penzyet muſt alwaies be Even. Do you grant
this, or not? why Mould I not ? faith he.
Obſerve then faith he, what I deſign to dę.
monftrate ; it is this. * It
feems, that not only thoſe dependent on the
Contraries are incapable of precedents. . That,
mutually receiving each o- what admits a con-
ther, but all other things thing; and the con:
P2
what-
* A Tird Thelis

212 PHEDO, Dr of the Soul
trary quality admits whatſoever, which though
ted another.
Contrary
subject they be not contrary among
therefore remains
, themſelves, yet alwaies have
while contrary qua. contraries:nor do they ſeem
lities are variouſly
induced ; but fo, capable to put on that form
that contrary quali- which is contrary to the
ties cannot be in the
fame mode. But fo Species wherein they are:
long as a contrary but when that contrary
quality is preſenr, it
communieates its
form once intervenes, they
nature and name to preſently either periſh, or
an odd number ſhall give place. Shall we not ſày,
be preſent, that that Three will ſooner pe-
be called odd; while riſh, or ſuffer any thing elſe
,
Pleat ſhall be in a than endure to be made E-
body, the body will ven? Tesfaith cebes. And
be, and be called
bot, doc,
yet, làith he again the
number Two is not contrary
to the number Three. It is not , truly,
Therefore not only contrary Species admit
not the acceffion of one to another mutual-
lyzbut ſome other contraries alſo abhor,and
are incapable to ſuffer that mutual acceffi-
on. You ſpeak with great probability, faith
Cebes. Will you then, faith he,that, if we be
able, we define of what quality thefe things
are? With all my heart, faith he. Will they
not be fuch, Cebes, which fo conform what-
Loever they poſſeſs, as not only to force ie
to retain its own Species of form, but alſo
3
ſuffer

PHEDO, Dk of the Sotil. 213
fuffer it not to admit and put on the Species
or form of any Contrary whatſoever? Hom
ſay you to this , faith cebes? As we faid a
little before: for you know it to be necef-
fary, that that which contains the Species
of Three, is not only Three , but alſo odd.
Right. For this reaſon we faid, that the Spe-
cies contrary to that form which makes
this, can never be induced. By no means.
Hath the Species of odd perfected that form?
Certainly. And is the Species of Even con-
trary to the Species of odd. It is. Therefore
the ſpecies of Even ſhall never force it ſelf
upon Three. Never. Are Three then free
from the ration of Even ? Free. Therefore
tſte number Three is odd. Certainly. What
therefore I undertook to define I have now
defined; namely, * that of
what ſort thoſe things are, * He repeareth
which being contrary to diftin&ly applica-
none, yet admit not a Con- ted,viz.that concra-
trary; as now the numberofly qualities cannor
Three is not at all contrary ſame ſubje&; but
to Even, and yet is never-
one of neceſſity ex
pelleth the other:
theleſs incapable thereof. But the juõõrots
For the number Two alr themſelves
waies infers a contrary to fively.
contraries ſucceſs
Odd, and Fire a Contrary
to Cold; and the like of very many others
But
what he had above
admit
P 3

214 PHEDO, Dy of the Sout.
But conlider whether you agree that the
matter ought to be defined thus ; That a
Contrary doth not only not receive its con:
trary, but that alſo which may adfer any
contrary to that, to which it ſelf may come,
namely that which adfersit, doth never ad.
mit a form contrary to the formi of that
which is adferred. But again rub up your
memory; for 'tis no incommodity to hear
the ſame again. The number Five never
admits the ration of Even; nor the number
of Ten (the duple of five) the ration ofodd.
This therfore, being it ſelf contrary to ano.
ther, will yet never admit the ration of odd.
Nor will that number and half that number,
or half a number admit the ration of the
whole, nor a third part, duc. at leaſt if
you comprehend my meaning, and affent
1 both understand your ſenſe, faith
he, and aſſent without the leaſt doubt or
ſcruple.
But tell me again, reflect-
* Here accomoda- ing upon our precedent po-
ting his precedent litions; ( yet
I would not
treating of ſecond have you anſwer to the
Caufeshe firſt evin. queſtions I ask, exprelly
are to leck, not re-
mote, but proxime cauſes's not ( as his Interpreters ſpeak)
Accidentary, but fubftantial ones ; as he teaches by the Ex-
amples alleged.
and
untỠ mẻ.
četh this, that we

PHEDO, Dt of the Soul. 215
...
and in the ſame prints of words [as before.]
For beſides that certain way of anſwering,
of which I have treated before, I find ano-
ther naturally ariſing from the things ſaid
by us juſt now, and this certain and firm;
for example, if you ask me what that is,
which if it be in a body, the body will be
hot ; I will not give that groſs and ignorant
anſwer, that it is Heat ; but a more elegant
and polite one, from our laſt concluſions,
namely that it is fire. Nor, if you ask, what
that is, which if it invade the body,the bo-
dy will be fick: will I anſwer, that it is a
diſeaſe, but more preciſely, that it is a Fea-
ver: and if you ask me what is that, which
if it intervene to a number, the number
will be odd: I will not ſay, it is imparityor
Oddneſs, but Vnity: and of others in the
ſame manner. But look if you ſufficiently
underſtand me: Very clearly, làith he. An-
ſwer me then, what is that
which if it be in the body, * Firſt Theorem, the
the body will be alive. The cauſe of life in man.
soul, faith he. And is not
that alwaies ſo? Why not, faith he? The
Soul therefore alwaies brings life to the
Body it embraceth, whatſoever the Body
be ? It doth almaies bring life, faith he. Is
any thing contrary to Life, or not? Teszfaith
P4
hc.

216 PHEDO, Dk of the Soul.
nother.
he. What Death. The
* Second Theorems Soul therefore ſhall never
death is contrary to
life , and therefore receive the contrary to that
contrary to the Soul, which it felf alwaies îndu-
which is the cauſe
of life : and concluſi- ceth, as hath been granted
an ; therefore the from our late concluſions.
Souadmits not True,faith Cebes. What then?
death from the cone
ceded fæppofition, That which admits not the
that one Contrarý Species or ration of Even,by
never admits of a.
what name
do we now
call it? odd, faith he. And
what do we call that which admits not Ju-
ftice, or Muſic ? That we call Unjuſt; this
Inmuſical. What do
* Conſummation of we call that which is in-
Concluſion
from adjun&s: the capable of Death? Immor-
Scul receives not tal, faith he. Is not the
deach; therefore ir Soul capable of Death? No.
is immortal.
Therefore the Soul is a
thing immortal. It is immortal. Well then,
ſaith he, ſhall we acknowledg this to be
thus demonſtrated ? or what think you of
it? Demonſtrated perfely, Socrates, faith
he. * What therefore, faith he, if it were
that
* Another 'Theorem of the fame Conclufion, If what is
Immortal, be evóregor, exempe from deftru&ion; then
certainly the soul is alſo kyønsop@., exempt from deftrue
Kion, becauſe proved to be Immortal.
Receſſary
A

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 217
neceſſary, that odd be free and exempt
from all deſtruction, would not Three alſo
be free and exempt from all deſtruction ?
why not? Therefore, if it were neceſſary,
that that which is wholly void of Heat , be
likewiſe free and exempt from all deſtructi-
on; when a man fhould induce Hot upon
Snow, would the Snow go out ſafe and un-
melted ? for it would not then periſh, when
it had once admitted and received heat.
Ton fay true, quoth he. In the ſame mans
ner, I opine, if that which is void of Cold,
were free from all deſtruction; when any
cold thing ſhould be brought to fire, it
would not be deſtroyed or periſh, but go
away ſafe and intire of neceffity, faith he.
We are therefore by neceſſity obliged to
conclude the fame of an Immortal. For, if
what is immortal, be free and exempt from
all deſtruction, tis impoſſible the Soul ſhould
periſh, when death comes to it. For from
our late Poſitions, it will not ſuffer or un-
dergo death, and ſo not dye: as a Ternarz.
will never (as we have faid) be Ezen ; nor
will odd be by any means Even ; nor Fire
be Cold , no the Heat which is in fire, be
coldneſs
. But ſome may object, What hin-
ders that Odd may not be made Even, if Ever
be added, as hath been granted : and Odd
being

318 PHEDO; Dl of the Siui.
that
the Soul is
being extinct, Even ſucceed into the room
thereof? To him that ſhould thus argue,
we could not (I confeſs) deny, but that
Odd may periſh; for Odd it ſelf is not ex-
empt
from all deſtruction: Since , if that
were not agreed upon among us, we might
eaſily evince, that when Even comes in
place, Odd and the Ternary inſtantly fly a-
way; and ſo we might firmly determine of
fire and hot, and the reſt. Might we not?
Yes. * Now
therefore of
* Laſt conclufion; an immortal allo;. ſince we
both immortal, and are now agreed, that an Im-
free from all de mortal is abſolutely free
certainly demone and exempt from all de-
ſtrated from the gi. ſtruction; it is demonſtra-
ven and proved ted beyond all doubt or
and cognaté cau. diſpute, that the Soul, ſince
it is immortal, is free and
immune from all deſtruction: but if that be
not granted, it will require another diſputa-
tion. - But, ſaith he, in good truth there is
no need of further diſpute, as to that point.
For it is impoſſible, that any thing whatever
ſhould eſcape death, if this immortal and
ſempiternal undergo corruption and deſtru-
ction.
That God, ſaith Socrates,
of the Iin nortality the very form of life ( as I
conceive)
fes,
** A congrnition

PHEDO, Dy of the Bottl. 219
conceive Jand if there be a-
and indiſſolubility
of the Soul, from the
ny other Immortal, can ne- firſt and
principal
ver dyez is confeſſed by all canje (God) which
men. By all, by Jove, faith sido the very form
Cebes , not only.men, but of life, the Soul alla
Gods too. I believe An Im- muſt be fempiter-
nal, becauſe Divine?
mortal therefore, being in- and made after the
capable of Corruption ; Exemplar of that
primary idea which
what elſe ought we to con- is confered in the
clude, than that the Soul," "former diſputariano
ſince it is certainly immor-
tal, muſt be alſo free and exempt from all
deſtruction ? It is abſolutely neceſſary. When
therefore death comes to a man, what is in
him mortal, doth (asis manifeſt) die: but
what is immortal, departs, ſafe and free
from all corruption, giving place to death.
It ſeems fo. Then without all doubt, Ce-
bes, the Soul is a thing immortal, and free
from deſtruction: and certainly our Souls
will eternally ſurvive apud inferos. I can
Say no more to this, ſaith Cebes ; nor any way
deny my aſſent to your Reaſons. But if
Simmias or any other hath any new matter
to object, he ſhall do. well not to conceal it :
ſince I do not ſee to what more convenient
time he can differ the handling of theſe
things, if he deſire either to ſpeak, or to
hear any thing concerning them. I alſo,
faith

220
PHEDO, DI of the Soul.
ſaith Simmias, have nothing that detains
me from ſubmitting my faith to all you have
explained in your former diſcourſe. And
yet by reaſon of the Grandure and Excel,
lency of the things commemorated, while I
think Human infirmity not at all worthy of
ſo great Endowments and Prerogatives, I
find my ſelf conſtrained, not yet intirely to
reſign up my belief to your later conclufi-
fions. You ſpeak with good reaſon, Sim-
mias, faith Socrates, and modeftly: for thoſe
our first Suppoſitions, though we be per-
ſwaded of their verity, are yet more dili-
gently and accuratly to be conſidered : But
if ye ſhall, after they have been decently
and with juſt reaſon examined and explica-
cated, once receive them: yewill under-
ſtand the whole matter, as far as mans inteli
lect is capable to comprehend things of that
(abſtruſe] nature: and if that be once made
clear and evident, ye will require no more.
Tou have reafon, ſaith he.
But my Friends, faith he,
The Third part of ’tis fit we make diligent in-
the diſcourſe, ariſing
from the conclufi. quiſition into this alſothat
immortality, and concerning the fate of it after death;
which Socrates blindly deſcribes, from the opinion of the
vulgar and ſuperſtitious fictions of Paets.
fion of the Souls
if

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul
221
ri
if the Soul be immortal, we are highly
concerned to take care of it , not only in
reſpect of this ſhort time , which we define
by the name of life, but of Eternity that re-
mains after this life and the danger now
ſeems to be great, if any man ſhall neglect
bis Soul. For if Death be a ſeparation and
diſſolution of the whole, it were to be re-
puted an advantage and emolument to dif
ſolute and wicked men, that when they are
dead, they might be freed from their Bor
dy and Soul, and improbity all at once:
Whereas now it is manifeſt, that the Soul is
immortal ; a man hath no other way to a-
void Evils, and acquire fecurity from future
dangers,but to become as wiſe and virtuous
as is poſſible. For the Soul departing hence
to the Manſions of Ghoſts, carries along
with it nothing but its former manners and
education, which are ſaid to be of very
great moment, either to the importance of
Utility, or aggravation of loſs to him who
is dead, when he firſt arrives there. And
Tradition tells us, that every one of the
dead is by that very Demon that attended
on him living, purpoſely led into a certain
place, where it is ordained, all Ghoſts aſ
ſembled together,muſt receive their Doom,
and according to the form of Judgment ra-
tified

222 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
tified and conſtituted, go to the Infernal
Manſions, with that Guide, to whom com-
mand is given to conduct thoſe who are at
thoſe places. But when they have obtained
thoſe things they ought to obtain, and re-
mained there the time appointed ; another
Leader brings them back again, aftermany
and long periods of time. But this Jour:
ney is not ſuch as Telephus in Æſchylus de
ſcribes to be ; for he affirms, there is but
one way, and that Uniform too, that leads
to the Infernal Manſions : whereas to me
it ſeems more probable , the way is neither
Uniform, nor Single: for if there were but
one way, neither would there be any need
of Guides, nor could any Soul go out of
it. But now this ſeems to have many by:
wayes, diverſions, and intricate windings:
wherçof I make a conjecture from Sacrifi-
ces, and other Rites and Ceremonies belon-
ging to Religion, which are here perfor-
med. Further, a moderate and prüderit
Soul, both follows his Guide willingly and
chearfully, and knows things preſent: but
a Soul fetter'd with ſenſe of Luſts and com-
merce with the Body ( as we farmerly de-
clared].ſtill hankering after the Body with
an affrighting and tumultuary error, and
Itriving much, and fuffering much about a
viGble

PHEDO, D2 of the soul. 223
viſible place ; is not without extreme diffi-
culty at length led away by that Demon to
whom the care of it was committed. And
when it conies to that place where other
Souls are; from this impure Soul, which
hath either committed Murder, or polluted
it ſelf with ſome other crime; or perpretra-
ted ſome other villanous act of kin to that
wickedneſs,ſuch as are the works of impious
Souls: from this Soul, I ſay, every Soul flies
away with deteſtation, and will be neither
Companion, nor Guide unto it; while it ſelf
wanders up and down, hardly preſſed and
hemmed in with the greateſt ſtreights im-
maginable, until certain prefixt moments of
time arrive; which being elapſed, it is then
by a certain neceſſity hurried to that place
which hath been deſtined for its habitation.
But the Soul that hath led a life of purity
and moderation, having obtained the Gods
for bath companions and Guides, inhabits
that place, which hath been peculiarly and
properly aſſigned unto it.
There are many and
Coments of men
wonderful places of the concerning the man-
Earth : which yet is nei- fions of departed
ther ſuch, nor ſo great as it certain. .
is thought to be by ſome,
who are wont to ſpeak of it as I have heard
from
fouls, vain and un,

224 PHEDO, 02 of the Soul.
from one. And here Simmids interrupting
him, ſaith, how ſay you this, Socrates ? for
I alſo have heard many things concerning
the Earth: but not the ſame perhaps that
that man hath perſwaded you to believe;
and therefore I deſire to hear from you his
opinion. But Simmias, ſaith Socrates, the
art of Glauciis it ſelf ſeems inſufficient to ex-
plain thoſe ſo great and abſtruſe things zand
ko prove by convincing arguments, that
they are true, appears to me inore difficult,
thañ that Glaucus ſhould be able by all his
skill to perform. To render ſo great and
reſerved myſteries intelligible by diſcourſe,
I perhaps may be unable : and if I under-
ſtood them, yet would not the ſhort remain-
der of my life fuffice to ſo prolix and copi-
ous an Argument. Yet nothing hinders
but I may adventure briefly to deſcribe to
you the form of the Earth , and its places
ſuch as I have received them to be. And
this, ſaith Simmias, will be enough, the nar-
rowneſs of our capacity conſidered. This
then, ſaith he, I have fixed and eſtabliſbed in
my belief; firſt, if the Earth be placed in
the middle of the Univerſe, on all ſides en-
compaffed by Heaven equally diſtant from
it; then it needs not the defence or guard
of any thing, either of the Aire, or of any
other

PHEDO, D2 of the Sotil. 225
other propor ſupport, to ſecure it from fal-
ling; but is able to ſuſtain it ſelf, fince Hea-
ven that environs it , is in all its parts the
fanie and the Earth it ſelf equally ballanced,
and placed in the middle of another thing
whoſe parts are all the ſame and equidiſtant;
can neither more nor leſs ſwerve or decline
to any ſide: ard what is alwaies in the
fame manner diſpoſed, is conſtantly per-
manent in the ſame place, without the leaſt
of tendency or inclination to any other.
This (Ilavi) is my firſt perſwaſion, Anda
right one it is, faith Simmias. My next is;
that the face of the Earth is broad and large:
and that we inhabit the places from the Ri-
ver shafis to Hercules his pillars, in a very
finall ſpot, as Piſmires about the extended
plain of ſome wide field, or as Froggs about
the Sea: and various other Nations dwell
in other places. For, that there are through
the whole Earth, many and various Conca-
vities, from both the form it ſelf, and bulk
of its magnitude, into which both Aire, and
Darkneſs, and Water have followed toge-
ther. But that the pure Earth it ſelf is fea-
ted in a pure Heaven, wherein are the Stars,
and what yery many of thoſe who are
wont to ſpeak of theſe matters, call Æther:
the dreggs and fediment whereof theſe
Q
things

226 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
things are, and flow together into the hol.
lows of the earth. Yet that we who inha-
bit in theſe Hollows, know not that we do
ſo, but imagine that we dwell upon the
higher parts of the Earth;as if a man dwel-
ling at the bottom of the Sea, ſhould think
he dwelt above upon the Surface, and be
holding the Sun and other Stars through
the Water, conceive the Sea it ſelf to be
Heaven : and by reaſon of the ſlowneſs and
infirmity of his underſtanding, having never
come up to the top of the Sea, nor beheld
it, nor riſen up, and put his head above
Water into this our place, could not know
how much more beautiful and pleaſant this
lightſom Region is, than that obſcure and
deep one is, where he reſides: nor heard
from any other who had ſeen our place. This
(I ſay) is exactly our caſe : For, inhabiting
in ſome Hollow of the Earth, we conceive,
that we are ſeated upon the eminent pla-
ces thereof, and call the Air , Heaven: as if
the Stars really moved through the Air , as
Heaven; and we beheld their motions and
wayes. And that herein we are ſo amuſed
and confounded, that by reaſon of our
flowneſs and infirmity, we cannot penetrate
to the higheſt air. Since, if any ſhould ar-
rive at the top of it, and as with wings fly.
up

PHEDO, D? of the Soul: 227
up thither , when he had gotten his head
once above it, he would behold all theſe
things clearly : juſt as if Fiſhes mounting
up out of the Sea, ſhould behold our pla-
ces, ſo would he. And if he were by nature
qualified for contemplation, he would ſoon
know, that it is the true Heaven, and true
Light, and true Earth 3 for both the Earth,
and the Stones, and all this place are cor-
rupted and eaten away ; as things in the
Sea äre, by the ſaltneſs thereof. Nor is áriy
thing of value, any thing perfect bred com
monly in the Sea; but Caverns, and Sand,
and an infinite quantity of mud and filth
are in it, and where Earthis: which are in
no reſpect to be compared to our Beauties.
But thoſe Above ſeem to excel ours. Now
to deſcribe what kind of Countries there
are in the Earth, it ſhall think it no trouble
to relate to you a Fable pleaſant, and wor-
thy your attention. is That, faith sänámica,
would we fain hearune in the beginning
therefore.,' they ſay the face of the Earth
appeared to the light ſuch as (if a man
looked down from on high, and ſurvey'd
it our little Balls made up of twelve ſquare
pieces of Leather put together, várious in-
deed, and diſtinguiſhed by ſeveral colours
not unlike the colours Painters uſe, asſam
Q2
ples;

228 PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
ples, here with us: That there all the Earth
dosh conſiſt of theſe various colours, much
more ſplendid, "bright and purethen ours
are: one, purple,exceedingly fair and deep;
another, ſhining like Gold; but that which
is white, is whiter than Chalk or Snow,and
compoſed of other colours alſo, both more
and, more beautiful than have ever been
ſeen by our eyes. Then that thoſe very
Cavities of the Earth , being full of Water
and Air , repreſenta certain kind of colour,
ſhining through in a variety of other co-
lours, ſo that the form thereof may be pera
ceived both ſimple and various at once.
That herein thus conſtituted, the ſame things
are in the ſame manner produced, Trees;
Flowers, Fruits: and Mountains and Stones
have the ſame forms and qualities, in perfe-
ction , in perſpicuity, and in colours, far
more beautiful than our pretious Stones are,
which are but thin particles of thoſe;Sardo-
nixes; and Jaſpers, and Emeralds, and all o-
thers of great price: 1 and that there is no
thing there, but what vaſtly excells all our
fineſt Rarities of the ſame fort. 1o That the
cauſe of this vaſt difference is, becauſe the
Stones there 'are pure, not (as ours are) frete
ted and eaten by putrefaction and faltneſs,
from the things that flow in together hither,
and

PHEDO, D, of the Soul. 229
and that produce diſeaſes and decayes in
Stones, in Plants, and in Animals of our
Earth. That the Earth it ſelf is every where
adorned with ſuch fine productions, and
moreover with Gold and Silver, and other
Mettals: which naturally fhine in a won-
derful manner, as being both very many,
very great,and diſperſed through the whole
Earth: ſo that to behold it, is a moſt de-
lightful fight to the happy Spectators. That
there are in that Earth, living Creatures al-
ſo of very many kinds, and Men too: of
whom ſome live in Mediterranean places, o-
thers about the Air, as we about the Sea ;
others in Iſlands, which the Air invirons, as
feituate in the very Continent. In ſumme,
in thoſe places, the Air is to them, what the
Sea is to us, and ſerves them for the ſame
uſes : only this, their Air is our Æther. And
the ſeaſons of the year are with them ſo
admirably conſtituted in point of temper,
that the men there live both free from Dir.
eaſes,and much longer than ours: and in ſee-
ing, hearing, underſtanding, and other the
like faculties, they as far excel us,as 'Air ex-
cels Water, and the æther, Aire, in purity.
That there are likewiſe Groves and Tem.
ples of Gods, who reſide in them, and give
Anſwers and Propheſies from Oracles; and
the
03

230 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul
the men hold familiar converſation and
commerce with Gods themſelves. That the
Sun, and Moon, and other Stars are behe d
by them clearly and diſtinctly as they are,
and that they have this one felicity-more to
accompany them. That this is the foim and
conſtitution of the Earth, and the things
that are about it. That there are places
therein, and in the Hollows, and in the cir.
cumference thereof, many , fome deeper
and wider, in which we dwell ; others dee-
per indeed, but of narrower mouths than
that wherein we dwell: others again leſs
profound than ours, but wider. That all
theſe Cavities every where perforated one
into another and communicating by under-
ground paflages,have both by turnings and
diverfions , as well in narrower as in broa-
der places ; ſo thar a vaſt plenty of Water
flows out of ſome into others, as into Ci-
ſterns : and very great currents of Rivers,
and perpetual ſprings of Waters, both cold
and hot. Much fire allo, whole Rivers of
fire, and many ſtreams of Water, Muddy,
and Pure, and Dirty: as thoſe Rivers in Si-
çily, which flow from the Torrent called
[ gúmę z nõu] the muddy River; and the Tor-
rent it ſelf. That every one of thoſe placés
are filled, according to the quantity of Wa-
ter

PHEDO, Dr of the Soul. 231
ere gaperna
ter every day brought in; and that all theſe
are moved up and down, like ſome hanging
Veſſel upon the Earth. But this Penſil Ver-
ſel, by reaſon of ſome fuch nature, is ſome
one of the Gapings or Chaſms of the Earth;
and the very biggeſt of all, piercing from
ſide to ſide through the whole Earth;
which
Homer himſelf intimated in that Verſe,
Far hence in th’Earth there gapes a pit
immenſe:
Which both he elſewhére, and other Poets
call Tartaruszand into which all Rivers have
their confluence, re-flowing out of it by
turns: But all Rivers are of the ſame nature
as the Region is through which they run:
and this is the cauſe why all both iſſue from
thence, and return thither again : becauſe
that Humid heth neither bottom nor foun--
dation; but is lifted up, and wavers upward
and downward ; and the air and breath a-
bout it, doth the ſame: but follows it, both
when it aſcends, and when it deſcends to
And as in living Creatures endowed
with Reſpiration, the Spirit or Breath is in-
ſpired and expired alternately: fo here the
Breath being raiſed up with moiſture,yeilds
winds,ftrong, &c in ungoverned force almoſt
infinite, while it ruſheth in and out. But the
Water, when ſtirred up by ſome impulſe, it
us.
Q4
runs

232 PHEDO, De of the Soui.
runs to that place, which is called Below;
both flows into thoſe guſhing Lakes, and
fills them; as thoſe who drink full bowls:
and when it runs out from thence, in its cir-
culation tending thither again, it repleni-
fhesthe places here. They thus replete ,it
flows on through paſſages and channels of
the Earth. When all Fountains and Streams
arrive at thoſe places, whither Seas have
more expeditely and opportunely flowed:
they produce Lakes, Rivers, and Fountains.
Thence going under ground again , ſome
when they have travelled and compaſſed
greater and more places, precipitate them-
ſelves again into Tartarus, or the bottomleſs
Gulph: ſome more deeply than whence
they were exhauſted; others leſs deeply:
but all flow in more deeply, than whence
they flowed out. Some pour in themſelves
through a part contrary to, and diſparate
from that out of which they had their ef-
flux ; others through the ſame.Some whee-
led about in a circle, and once or often, in
ſerpentine windings, Sires and ſpiral Mean-
ders, infolding the Earth, as much as was
poſſible; bowing downwards , impel them-
ſelves forward, to deſcend where way is gi-
ven them, to the very middle on each ſide,
and no farther: for at each extreme Con.
fluence

PHEDO, Dl of the Soul. 233
fluence, each part is impervious. There are
beſides theſe, many other Confluents of Wa.
ters great and various: among all which
are four, whereof the greateſt and deepeſt
flowing in a round, is called the Ocean. By
a motion contrary to this, flows Acheron;
which comes in through other deſert places,
and indeed running under ground, paſſes on
to the Acherufiad Mariſh, where crowds of
departed Souls have their common rendez-
vous; and whence, after certain periods of
time predeſtined by Fate, to ſome longer,
to others ſhorter, they are remitted hither
again to the generation of Animals.Betwixt
theſe two runs the third River, and not far
from its Sours, diſembogues itſelf into a cer-
tain great place, that burns with much fire,
and there ſtagnating, makes a Mere or Lake
greater than the Sea with us, and perpetu-
ally boyling with water and mudd: hence
it guſheth forth with violence, running in-
to a round, troubled and full of filth ; and
having often fetched a compaſs under
ground, pours it ſelf into the deepeſt part of
Tartarus ; paſſing to the Extremes of the
Achernfiad Mariſh, but not mixing with the
Waters thereof. This is that River which
they yet call Pyripblegethon, the Burning Ri-
ver of Hell; whoſe Rivulets with violent
force
1

234 PHEDO, D4 of the Soul.
force making way through the broaken
Earth, riſe up wherefoever they can drill
themſelves a vent. Oppoſite to this, the
Fourth River falls firſt into a place horrid
with mouldineſs and frinking damps, wild
and ſavage (as they ſay) of a blew colour,
which they call the Stygian place, that is the
diſmal ſeat of hate, fear, and grief; and the
River flowing into it, makes the Stygian
Lake; and falling in there , with mighty
ſtrength re-inforcing its Torrent, and thru-
ſting it ſelf under ground, with a contrary
flood, and various eddies, it throws it ſelf
againſt the Burning River,and goes forward
till it meets it in the Acherufiad Mariſh: but
mixes ſtreams with no other Waters, and
here revolved in a circle, diſchargeth it ſelf
into Tartárus , juſt oppoſite to the Burning
River; and the name of it is (as Poets ſay).
Cocytus, i. e. Sorrow. Theſe
T e Purgatory of things being thus conſtitu-
deſcribed", ted, when Ghoſts have ar-
with their Repeno rived whither the tutelar
tarce in Hell, and Demon of every one con-
Contrition, Conſegin ducts them, firſt they are
on, Satisfaction, all examined, tryed, and judg-
be neceſſary, by the ed, both they who have li-
light of Nature. ved well, righteouſly, and
juſtly, and they who have lived in vice, in-
juſtice
the ancient Hea.
thens

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
235
juſtice and impiety; they alſo who have
lived in a middle way, going on to Acheron,
and mounting into Waggons prepared for
them, are therein carried to the Mariſh:
where they both remain, and ſuffer puniſh-
ments appointed for the expiation and ex-
purgation of their fins. After they are thus
expiated, they are abſolved and quitted :
and every one receives rewards for their
good deeds, according to their merits. But
if for the greatneſs of their Crimes, they be
found incurable, having committed either
many or great Sacriledges, or unjuſt and
unlawful Homicides, or ſuch execrable
Wickedneſſes; a juſt lottcaſteth them into
Tartarus , from whence they never get out.
Whereas they who ſtand convicted of , and
obnoxious to fins great indeed, but not in-
expiable ; as they who have, in heat of an-
ger committed any violence againſt Father
or Mother, and truly repented of it all their
life after ; or who have been Homicides
through immoderate paſſion : upon theſe
is impoſed a neceſſity of falling into Hell.
But when they have been there a year in
Torments, the Waves caſt them forth: Ho-
micides, by Cocytus;Killers of Father or Moº
ther, by the Burning River. And when they
come to the Acherufiad Mariſh, then with a
loud

236
PHEDO; D2 of the Soul.
loud voice they by name call, ſome thoſe
whom they have killed, others, thoſe whom
they have wronged, and begg and beſeech
them to be ſatisfied with their unfeigned
penitence, and grievous ſufferings, and to
give them leave to depart out of thatMariſh,
If they prevail, they retire thence, and are
freed from thoſe miſeries: if not, they are
carried back again into Tartarus, and ſo re-
turned to the other rivers, not ceaſing to
fuffer their renewed torments, untill they
have obtained pardon from thoſe to whom
they have been injurious ; for this puniſh-
ment is appointed for them by the decrec
of the Judges. Now they who have been
rightly purged by Philoſophy, live ever af-
ter without bodies, and come into other
habitations fair and delightful; which to
deſcribe, is too difficult for my underſtan-
ding, and too long for the ſhort remainder
of niy life.
But as for the concern-
Commodious
, ad- ment and importance of
monicions, conclu.
ding the deſcripti: what we have here rela-
on of Hull; that we ted, simmias; we ought to
are not obliged to labour with all poſſible ſtu-
yet it is uſeful to refle& upon them, that we may be inçited
ro aim at felicity after death, and to follow the only path
that leads ta it, viz. Wiſdom and Virtue,
dy
Poetic fi&tions ; and

PHEDO, D of the Soul. 237
dy and care, that we may follow the con-
duct of Virtue and Wiſdom, in this life.
For the reward is great, and the hope good.
That the deſcriptions I have recounted to
you of the places' and conditions of Souls
after death, are true; becomes not a wiſe
man to affirm. But that there are ſome
ſuch, or the like, as for what concerns the
ſtate and condition of our Souls, and the
places whither they are to go for habitati-
on; ſeeing it is evident that our Souls are
immortal, this alſo ſeems both conſentane-
ous, and worthy the danger to believe they
are ſuch. For the danger is honorable and
glorious ; and we are obliged to inculcate,
and as it were inchant theſe things into our
minds ; wherefore I have been the more
prolix in commemorating that Fable. But
yet, as to what concerns a nians own Soul,
he ought to be with full conſidence per-
ſwaded of theſe things, who while he hath
lived, hath repudiated corporeal pleaſures,
and outward Ornaments, as alien and un-
neceſſary, and ſo hath reſolved to addict
himſelf to any thing rather than to lufts of
the body: and hath made it the grand bu-
fineſs of his life, to furnith his mind with
learning, and to render it polite and
brave;
not with ſtrange, but its own proper orna-
ments;

238 PHEDO, Dl of the Soul.
ments; namely with Temperance, Juſtice
Fortitude, Liberty, Truth. Thusarmed, let
him expect the time , when he is to take his
Journey ad inferos , to the Manſions of
Souls departed, and let him ſo prepare and
addreſs himſelf, as to ſet forwardredily and
chearfully, whenſoever Fate ſhall call him.
And for your parts, Simmias and Cebes, and
the reſt that are here, ye ſhall all go
this
Journey, each in his appointed time: Fate
(as the Tragedian faith) calls me now. But
perhaps it is time for me to go and waſh my
ſelf, for I think it more decent to be waſhe
ed, before I drink the poylon , that I may
give the Women no trouble in waſhing my
Body, after death.
Beit ſo then , faith Critó
An Hiſtorical Naf. to him. But do you, SO*
ner of Socrates his orates , give to theſe here,
death, which was or to me, any command, ei-
to his Life and Dother concerning your Chil-
arine, glola dren, or about any other!
ile bits norises matter, wherein weomay
chiefly gatifie you? No truly, faith he,Crito,
I leave no new command with you, beſides
what I have alwaies told you, namely, that
if ye take due care of your ſelves, you will
perform your dutyito me, and to mine, and
to your felves allowhatever ye do, though
ration of the man-
Now

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul. 239
now ye make no promiles , nor enter into
new engagements: but if ye neglect your
ſelves , and will not order your life accor-
ding to the prints as it were, of what I now
remonſtrate to you, & what I have hereto-
fore enjoyned ye; though ye ſhould even
with vehement afleveration promiſe to do
many, and great things, for my fake, ye will
do (I am ſure) nothing more.
This, faith
Crito, we will with courage and alacrity of
mind endevour to perform. But in what
manner ſhall we Bury you? Even how ye
pleaſe, ſaith he; at leaſt if ye can eatch me,
and I not fly out of your reach. And when
he had ſweetly ſmiled, and turned his eyes
upon us ; my Friends, faith he, I cannot
perſwade Crito here, that I am that Socrates
who juſt now diſputed, and purſued all
parts of the diſcourſe in order: but he
thinks me to be the ſame whom after a few
hours
ye
ſhall behold dead; and asketh me
how I deſire to be Buried: not remembring,
that a good while ſince, I made a long diſ-
courſe to this very purpoſe, that after I have
drank the poyſon, I ſhall be no longer with
you , but go away tothe Felicities of the
Bleſſed. This ſeems to have been ſpoken
by me in vain , while yet I endevoured to
conſolateiboth you and my ſelf. Do ye
there-

240 PHEDO, Dk of the Soul.
therefore undertake for me to Crito, in an
obligation quite contrary to what he en-
tred into on my behalf, before my Judges.
He was ſurety for me, that I ſhould remain:
but be ye my ſureties to him, that I ſhall not
remain after I am dead, but fly away; to the
end that Crito may more eaſily bear my de-
parture, and ſeeing my Body to be burn'd
or committed to the ground, he may not be
troubled or grieved for me, as if I had ſuf-
fered any great calamity; nor ſay at my
Funeral, that Socrates is expoſed to ſight, or
carried forth, or put into the Grave. But
be aſſured of this, my Crito, that to ſpeak of
theſe [important] matters without due cir-
cumſpection, is not only a great offence,but
brings detriment alſo to mens Minds. It be-
comes us rather to be of good courage
réſolution: and I will command that my
Body be buried, and buried ſo as ſhall be
grateful to you, and you ſhall judge to be
moſt conſentaneous to the Laws. 251
Having ſaid this, he aroſe
Other Circumſtan- and went into an inner
ces conducing to the
faith of the Hiſto- room to waſh himſelf; and
ry,
Crito following him, en-
joyn'd us to ſtay and expe& his return. We
therefore expected, diſcourſing among our
felves of the things that had been comme->
and
mora-

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
241
* That Socrates
morated by him, and conferring our judg-
ments concerning them. And we frequent-
ly ſpake of the calamity that ſeemed to im-
pend on us by his death : concluding, it
would certainly come to paſs, that as Sonns
deprived of their Father, ſo ſhould we dif
confolately ſpend the remainder of our life.
After he had been waſhed, and his children
were brought to him for he had two Sonns
very young, and a third, almoſt a Youth)
and his * Wives alſo were
come; he ſpake to them
before Crito,and gave them wives, is plainly de
had indeed Two
his laſt commands : ſo he livered by Diogen:
gave order to his Wives
to his Wives Laertins
, who Talien;
and Children to retire. tippe , upon whom
Then he came back to us, cles the other
he begać Lambroa
By this time, the day had myrto', the Daugh-
declined almoſt to the ſet- err of Ariftides the
juſt, who brought
ting of the Sun ; for he had him Sophroniſchs
ſtaid long in the room and Meneximus.
where he waſhed himſelf:
Which done, he returned, and ſate to repoſe
himſelf
, not ſpeaking much after that. Then
came the Miniſter of the Eleven, the Execut-
tioner; and addreſſing himſelf to him, I do
not believe, Socrates, ſaid he, that I ſhall rea
prehend that in you,which I am wont to re-
prehend in others; that they are angry
R
with

242 PHEDO, D of the Soul
with me, and curſe me, when by command
of the Magiſtrates(whom I am by my Office
obliged to obey) Icome and give notice to
them, that they muſt now drink the poylon;
but I know you to be at all times,and chief-
ly at this, a man both generous, and moſt
mild and civil , the beſt of all men that ever
came into this place: ſo that I may be aſſured
you will not be diſpleaſed with me, but(you
know the Authors) with them rather. Now
therefore ( for you know what Meſſage I
come to bring) Farewell, and endevour to
fuffer as patiently and calmly as you can,
what cannot be avoided: Then breaking
forth into tears, he departed. And Socrates
converting his eyes upon him, and Farewel
thou too,faith he: we will perform all things.
Then turning to us again, How civil this
man is, ſaith he! all this time of my mpri-
ſonment, he came to me willingly,and ſome-
times talked with me reſpectfully,and hath
been the beſt of all that belong to the Pri-
ſon; and now how generouſly doth he
weep for me! But Crito, let us ſpare him;
and let ſome other bring hither the deadly
Draught, if it be already bruiſed : if not, let
him bruiſe it. Then Crito, I think, ſaith he,
the Sun ſhines upon the tops of the Moun-
tains, & is not yet quite gone down; *and
I

PHEDO, 02 of the Soul 243
have ſeen ſome delay the
drinking of the poyſon By the Athenian
Law, no man was to
much longer: nay more, be put to death, nn-
after notice had been gi- til after Sun-Jet; left
ven them that they ought they had a nngular
to diſpatchthey have Sup- veneration, might
ped, and drank largely
be diſpleaſed at the
fight.
too, and talked a good
while with their Friends : be riot then
fo haſty ; you have yet time enough. Thoſe
men of whom you ſpeak, Crito,ſaith he, did
well; for they thought, they gained ſo much
more of life; but I will not follow their ex-
ample: for I conceive, I ſhall gain nothing
by deferring my draught till it be later in
the night; unleſs it beto expoſe my ſelf to
be derided, for being defirous, out of too
great love of life, to prolong the ſhort re-
mander of it. But well; get the Poyſon
prepared quickiy, and do nothing elſe till
that be diſpatch'd. Crito hearing this, beck-
ned to a Boy that was preſent; and the Boy
going forth, and imploying himſelf a while
in bruiſing the Poyſon, returned with him
who was to give it, and who brought it rea-
dy bruiſed in a cup: Upon whom Socrates
caſting his eye, be it fo, good man, ſaid hes
(for thou art well skill'd in theſe
matters) what is to be done? Nothing, faith
R 2
hes
tell me

234
PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
off the
he, but after you have drank, to walk, until
a heavineſs comes upon your leggs and
thighs ; and then to fit: and this you ſhall
do. And with that he held forth the Cup
to Socrates, * which herea-
* Socrates, with adi dily receiving, and being
receives and drinks perfectly ſedate, O Eche-
Poyfox. crates , without trembling,
Which appears to
have been the Juice
without change either in
of Hemlock, both the color, or in the aire of
from the au&ority his face, but with the ſame
of Diog. Laertius in
vita socrat
. where aſpect, and countenance in-
he expreſly namesit tent and ſtern, (as was uſu-
Xcovétoy ,i.l. Cicura;
and from the man. al to him ) looking upon
ner of its operati- the man: what ſaiſt thou,
on, whereof conſult
Diofcorides ; As also
ſaith he? may not a man
from that of Seneck, offer ſome of this Liquor
Epift. 13.
in Sacrifice? We have brui-
nagnam Socratem
fecit.
fed but ſo much, Socrates,
faith he, as we thought
would be ſufficient. I underſtand you,ſajth
he: but yet it is both lawful, and our duty
to pray to the Gods, that our tranſmigra-
tion from hence to them, may be happy
and fortunate. Having ſpoke thoſe words,
and remaining ſilent (for a minute or two]
he eaſily and expeditely drank all that was
in the Cup. Then many of us endevo-
Ied what we could, to contain our tears: but
when
Cicuta

P HEDO, Dp of the Soul.
235
when we beheld him drinking the Poyſon,
and immediatly after; no man wasable lon-
her to refrain from weeping: and while I
put force upon myſelf to ſuppreſs my tears,
they flowed down my cheeks drop after
drop. So covering my face, I wept in ſe-
cret: deploring not his, but my own hard
fortune, in the loſs of ſo great a Friend, and
ſo neer a Kins-man. But Crito no longer a-
ble to contend with his grief, and to for-
bid his tears roſe up before me. And Apollo-
dorus firſt breaking forth into ſhowres of
tears, and then into cries, howlings, and la-
mentations, left no man from whom he ex-
torted not tears in abundance ; Socrates
himſelf only excepted : Who ſaid, what do
ye, my Friends? truly I ſent away the Wo-
men for no other reaſon, but left they
ſhould in this kind offend. For I have
heard, that we ought to die with good
mens and gratulation : But recompoſe
your ſelves, and reſume your courage and
reſolution. Hearing this, we bluſh'd with
ſhame, and ſuppretled our tears. But when
he had walked awhile, and told us that his
thighs were grown heavy and ſtupid ; he
lay down upon his back : for ſo he who had
given him the poyſon, had directed him to
do, Who a little time after, returns, and
feeling
R 3

246 PHEDO, Dc of the Soul.
feeling him, looked upon his leggs and feet:
then pinching his foot vehemently, he asked
him, if he felt it ? and when he ſaid no, he
again pinched his leggs ; and turning to us,
told us, that now Socrates was ſtiff with
cold: and touching him, ſaid he would die
ſo ſoon as the Poyſon came up to his heart;
for the parts about his heart were already
grown ſtiff. Then Socrates, putting aſide
the Garment wherewith he was covered;
we gw, ſaith he, a Cock to * Æſculapius :
but do ye pay him, and
* Intimating, that neglect not to do it. And
grateful to him; for theſe were his laſt words.
which , and for his It ſhall be done, faith Grito:
now but fee if you have any
granted to him, he
would have a Sacri. Other Command for us Ta
fice offered to Af whom he gave no anſwer:
culapius
. see Eraf but ſoon after fainting, he
9.45,Chiliad. 3. cent.
moved himſelf often [as if
ſuffering Convulſions. Then the Servant
uņcovered him: and his eyes ſtood wide
, opens which Crito perceiving, he cloſed both
his mouth and his eyes.
* A moſt auguſt This, Échecrates, was the
tęſtimony given by
Plato, of his Maſter end of our Friend and Fa:
Sierates. to vindi- miliar, a man as we in
caté both his perſon truth affirm , of all whom
the prejudice of an we have by uſe and ex-
ignominious death,
deliverance
3. pig. 1.
*
and Do&trine from
perience

PHEDO, D2 of the Soul.
247
perience known, the Wifest, and moſt
Fust.
Quid dicam de Socrate? cujus morti ill a-
chrimari foleo, Platonem legens. Cicero
de natura Deor. lib. 3.
Quidni ego narrem, ultima illa nocte Cato-
nem Platonis librum legentem,poſito ad caput
gladio? Duo hæc in rebus extremis inſtrumen-
ta proſpexerat, alteram ut vellet mori, alterum
ut poſjét, &c. Seneca Epift. 24.
Sic longa virtute fuit mens fancta Catonis
Purgata; atq; illi vitæ immortalis honorem
Jam contemplanti, divini fafa Platonis
Phædonem tradunt. Cum lætus talia fatur.
Salve ſancte liber, fuperis demiſſe Catoni:
Dirige tu curfum, vitæq; extrema meantis. home
Inſtrue: non alium moriturus quæro magi-
ftrum;
Nec restare alias voluerunt Numina curas,&c.
Tho. Maius, in Supplemento Lucani, lib.
hili Dust on
Quid Ambraciotes ille (Cleombrotus vi-
delicet ) qui cum Platonis illum Phædonem
perlegiſſet, præcipitem fe dedit , nullam alian
ob cauſam, niſi quod Platoni credidit?
Lactantius.
4.
R 4
Certain

2 +8
Certain General
A X I 0 MS
Collected out of the Precedent Dia: 11
logue concerning the Soul.
1. Axioms Moral.
1.
"P
*
Ainand Pleaſure are of Kingand
ſo linked together, that they cloſe-
ly ſucceed each other by turns.
2. No man ought, upor what ac-
count foever, to deſert the ſtation
wherein God hath placed him: but to perſiſt in
the duties thereof, contemning all oppoſition.
3. Self-murder is a great Crime,
Ac donec Deus ille Creator.at
Qui terrena Animam primò ftatione locavit,
Evocat, haud illa ftatione excedere fas eſt. ]
4. A Wiſe man ought not only not to fear.
Death, but alſo to deſire it; with ſubmiſſion to
to the Divine Will
.
5. Philoſophy is the perpetual meditation
of

A XIO.MS.
249
of Death; that is, to recal and divorce the
Soul from commerce with the Senſes, and alie-
nate it from Corporeal lusts and pleaſures.
which is an anticipatton of Death, that is dea
fined to be, a ſolution and ſeparation of the
Soul from the Body.
6. The Virtues of Politicians are not true
Virtues, but only faint reſemblances of the
true.
7. Philofophy is the way to true Felicity :
and the iwo grand Duties of it are ( 1 ) To
contemplate the perfections of God, and (2)
to alienate the soul fron, the allurements of the
Senſes, and from indulgence to the Body.
8. Hope of future Felicity, is a very great
Reward ; that is, the best way of paſſing
through both the Temptations and Adverſities
of this Life,with ſatisfaction of Mind.
9. Decent Burial, ſuch as is ordained and
preſcribed by good Laws of the Country, ought
not to be neglected by a Wiſe man: nor Fu-
neral Pomp, affected. *
* So Epicurus in his laſt will and Teftament; Sepeliunto .
nos quà videbitur in hortis commodiſſimum , nihilq, in-
terim ſumptuoſiùs, quod five ad ſepulturam , five ad monu-
mentnm pertineat,agunto. Diog. Laert, lib. 80.
II Axioms

250
AXIOMS.
II. Arioms Natural.
Con
Ontraries are produced out of contra-
ries: but cannot poſſibly fubfijt the ſame
in one ſubject, at the ſame time.
2. To learn, is to remember what the soul
knew, before it came into the Body: or there
are naturally and congenially in the Soul, the
feeds of all Sciences; which are only culti-
vated and matured by method of Diſcipline,
not implanted or ingraſſed at firſt, as Ariſto-
tle taught.
IL Srioms Theological,
I.GOd takes care of Men, for that they are
2. God, according to Plato's definition
here, is not only the Cauſe of his own Being,
but gives both Being and Well-being to all
things elfe.
3. The Soul of Man is the Off-ſpring of
God, in a peculiar manner participant of the
Divine Nature, incompound, without figure or
Mape, Incorruptible, immortal, as God.
4. The Soul in this Life, doth indeed uſe
the ſervice of the Body: yet is not compoſed or-
ganically of the Senſes, and other Faculties
there

AXIOMS.
251
thereof; but simple, and exifteth apart by it
Self, after Separation by Death,whereby the Boa
dy, being compound, is diffolved; but the
Soulgoes away untouched and void of all Core
ruption, into another Life, and there laſteth
Eternally.
5. Of our Souls departed, there is a Two,
fold ſtate : fome are happy, others unhappy.
6. Seeing that in this Life things are ear-
ried on intemperately, and in confuſion; there
must be in the next Life [oedin.coucos ] a ceré
tain and juft Judgement of God the Supreme
and Univerſal Judge,whereby Good men max"
be diſtinguiſhed from
Wicked: this being an
Axicm evident by the very Light of Nature,
that God will reward every man according
to his works in this life. *
[*
Deus ipfe ſequendam
Propoſuit Virturem; & præmia debita juſtis.
Hæc, quoniam jaftos injufta potentia fraudat
Sapiùs in terris, & geris humana rebellar,
Solvere poſt mortem juftiffimus ipfe tenetur.]
7. Poſitively and with.confidence to de
cribe the places whither the Souls of the Dead
gº, and to define what are the Rewards and
Puniſhments
they there receive ; is the part of
a man extremely ignorant and ſuperſtitious :
though it be moſt certain, there are Rewards
And Puniſhments appointed and abſolutely ne-
ceſſary

252
AXIO MS.
ceſſary for every man here to have his cogitati-
ons ſeriouſly exerciſed in the contemplation
of them.
8. True it is alſo, that the souls of Good
men, by Death delivered from the chains of
the Body and its Senſes, go immediatly to a
place, inviſible indeed by Human eyes, but of
complete felicity, where they are conjoynd to
God for ever: while on the contrary, the Souls
of Wicked men ſuffer the puniſhments juftly
due to their crimes, in places convenient.
19. Unreaſonable it is, and unworthy a Phi-
ofopher,to pretermit the Principal and Prima-
ry Caufe, God, who is in truth not only the
moſt Potent Cauſe, but Cauſe of all ſecondary
Cauſes: to acquieſce in Second Cauſes, which
really are no more but concurrent and instrum
mental: and in ſecond cauſes themſelves, to
omit the Proxime, while he rambles in ſearch
of remote, namely Conſtellations and Etherial
influences and ſuch like Chimera's ; as do thoſe
injudicious Profeſſors. of Judicial Aſtrology,
and as did Anaxagoras, who held the great
Mind of the Univerſe to be utterly void of un-
derstanding and judgment; as Plato aj
કરો. જો ડર ) {
10 The

AXIOMS.
253
IO. The uſe of this moſt excellent Doctrine
of the Immortality of the Soul, is to induce us
to put our felves into the way of Virtue, as
that which alone leads to Eternal Happineſs :
and to abhor Vice, as the direct Road to end-
lefs Miſery.
REFLEX-

254
SE
REFLEXIONS
Upon the Athenian Laws
mentioned in the Apoligie and
Dialogue Precedent.
1.
T
He Law which Socrates was accuſed
to have Violated, and by which he
was Condemned, yet extant un .
der the firſt Title of Athenian
Laws colle&ted and explained by
the Learned Monſieur Petit ; ſeems
to be this: Lex efto antiquiffima, æternæq, auctoria
tatis in Attica, venerandos effe Deos, atq; Herous pa-
trios & indigenas, publice
ſecundum patrias ſanctionds;
privatim vero bonis verbis, frugumq; primitiis, libis
Annuis ; pro facultatum modulo.
By this Law was provided, nè quis novos habeſſit
Deog, that no man ſhould introduce new Godsjand
the Tranfgreffor was called into queſtion before the
Areopagites; whereof we have two eminent Ex-
amples : one in St. Paul, who was hurried to the
moſt ſevere Tribunal of the Areopagites , 02 góc
γών «Λαιμονίων έδιόκα καταγγελέυο είναι , φuod pere-
grinorum Deornna videretur annunciator effe Č AH.
Apoftol.cap. 17. verf.18.) the other in Diodorus ſure
named

REFLEXIONS.
,255
Statute,
named the Atheiſt, whoſe Indictment upon the ſame
and convention before the ſame High
Court of Juſtice,are recorded by Diogenes Laertin's.
How came it then that Socrates, accuſed to have
both denied the Divinity of the Old Gods of the
Athenians and endeavoured the inſinuation of new;
was not likewiſe tried by the Areopagites, but by
other Judges, contrary to the tenor of this Law?
I anſwer with Monſieur Petit, ( Commentar. it
leges Atticas, pag. 3.) that perhaps the juriſdiction
of the Arcopagites extended not to the Citizens of
the Attick Republic, ſuch as Socrates was; but was
limited only to Strangers, ſuch as was that ill-con-
joyn'd pair, St. Paul and Diodorus.
II.
Socpates (you may remember) in his defenſe dif-
ſolving that part of his Charge which concerned
the Corruption of Youth, puts his Adverſary Meli-
tus in mind of a certain Law, whereby he was obli-
ged, not to have brought an Impeachment againſt
him to the Magiſtrates, but privately and in a
friendly manner admoniſhed him of that his error,
ſuppoſing him to be really guilty thereof, not out
of malice, but incogitancy. Now the Law it ſelf
whereto he then had reſpect, was this ; Peccantes
invite in jus ne rapiuntor, ſed privatim officii admonen-
tor': and the reaſon of it is obvious, Talibuc enim
kon pæna opus eſt , ſed inſtitutione. Which is to be
underſtood of Errors of no great moment, nor
likely to bring detriment to the Common-wealth;
ſuch as thoſe objected to Socrates, in that article of
his
į

256 REFLEXIONS.
his Indictment, Iaitgátus a Niuet; xa) atgiegzaze-
εται ξετών τα τι υπό γην και τα επουράνια, και αν
κτίω λόγον κρείτε ποιών, και άλλοις ταύτα διδασ-
sav; Socrates doth contrary to right and equity, in
that he curiouſly enquires into things both ſiebterranean
and ſublime, and by his fophiftry turns falfhood into
truth, and teaches the ſame to others. For granting
him to be guilty hereof, the fault was but light and
venial: In his enim neq; fitæ erant opes Grecie, neqi
ex iis detrimenti (quicquam Refpublica capere potuit.
Wherefore he had right to the favour and indul-
gence of this Law, which his malicious Adverſary
had, by omitting the private admonition thereby
required, violated.
III.
By the Religion of the Atlenians, no Deity was
held more potent and venerable than Apollo ; none
had ſo many ſacred Buildings erected in their Ci-
ty to his Worſhip, none ſo many ſolemn Sacrifices,
and public Feafts inſtituted to his Honoř,as he had:
and among their Feſtivals , none were celebrated
with more ceremonious Joy, than that of Inſpection
mentioned by Plato in Phaden. Concerning which
they had this peculiar Law; Deliorum feftos dies,
dam Delum itur, reditur, damnatorům Suppliciis ne
funéſtato. And the obſervance of this Law hath
been noted both by Xenophon and Plato, as the rea-
fon why Socrates was detainedin Priſon thirty daics
after his Condemnation, before he was put to death:
the Athenians eſteeming it piacular, to darken the
publiek rejoycing and ſolemnity of that Feaſt, by
the

REFLEXIONS. 257
the death of any condemned, however notorious a
Malefactor. So thuch was given to the Horor
of Apollo Delius, whom not only the Grecians, but
even Foreiners from the remoteit parts of the
Earth, while in Greece , were obliged to Worſhip
withOblations of their Firſt Fruits; as appears from
the Hiſtory of Abaris a Scythian, who is ſaid to have
lived in Greece about the 52 Olympiad , and wrote
de Oraculis; and from the example of the Tyrians al-
ledged by Euripides (in Phoenifſis ) whoſe Verſes in
the Chorus are worthy the ſerious remark of Anti-
quaries, as giving much of light to what hath been
obſcurely delivered by Geographers and Hiſtorians,
concerning the Colonies of the Iyrians in African
and the neighbouring Iſlands.
X.
From the fame religious reſpect to Apollo it
feems deducible, that within the Attic Territories,
io condenined perſon ſuffered death until after the
Sun was gone down: The Law it ſelf, I confeſs, I
have not yet found among all thoſe with fuch vaft
labour collected by Monſieur Petit: but that they
had ſuch a Law, may be inferred from the Example
of Socrates, and from what we read in Stobens
(Sermone i. who ſaith expreſly enough; tej Tetov
ημερων αμερών αυτώ δοθήσών,τη φρότη έπιεν, και φρεσόμενα
τ τρίτης ημέρας και εσχάτίω ώραν επιβατηρεί ή όξιν ήλιο όλο
og año.
S
Mytho-

258
2009-09*90920:004
Mythological Reflections
UPON
Some Ancient Rites and
Traditions concerning the Soul,
mentioned by Plato in the precedent
Dialogue.
1. Of Lustration.
A
Mong the ancient Grecians who
travelled into Ægypt, on pur-
poſe to pry into and learn the
Sacred Rites, and myſterious
Ceremonies uſed by the Prieſts
of that Superſtitious Nation ; Orpheus is ce-
lebrated as the firſt , by Diodorus Siculus :
who (Lib. 4. pag. 162. ) ſaith thus of him ;
Orpheus in Ægyptum profectus, multa ibi di-
dicit ; ita ut tam Initiationibus & Theolo-
gia, quam Poefi & Melodia eßet Græcorum
præftantiffimus, &c. Now this Poet return-
ing into Greece, brought with him (Tax AUST-
κεν τελετών τα πλατα, και τα σερί την εαωε οργιαζί-
MEPK

Reflections Mythological. 259
μενα, και τον τών εν άσ's μυθολογίαν] moft of the
myſterious Rites uſed by the Egyptians, and
the Orgies of Bacchus, and the Mythology
of the Infernal Manſions: and recommen-
ding them to his Countrymen, ſo far pre-
vailed, that not long after, the very ſame
were introduced as religious inſtitutes aa
mong them alſo, and by moſt with devote
obfervance embraced.
Of all theſe thus tranſplanted Rites, none
were held more grateful to their Deities,or
of more ſacred importance to the Votaries,
than thoſe of initiation or admittance,more
eſpececially the [Kxdxeuds] Luftration: which
according to the computation of our Se-
cond selden, Sir John Marſham, from the au-
thority of the Epocha Marmorea cited in his
lately publiſhed Chronic. Canon ( a work of
profound Learning, and vaſt labour ) was
firſt inſtituted in Greece, when Pandion the
Son of Cecrops ruled at Athens, about the
year 257. of the Attic Era.
This Luſtration was double: either anı
Expiation from Humane blood ſpilt by
ſlaughter, or a Preparation to Sacrifice, and
other religious worſhip. Of Expiation, we
have illuſtrious Examples in Apollo himſelf,
who, as Pauſanias relates (Lib. 10.pag.620.)
was thereby folemnly purged from the ſtain
S 2
of

260 Reflections Mythological.
of blood by Carnanor: in Hercules, whom
Diodorus Siculus reports to have been in
like manner purified by Mufcus the Son of
Orpheus, both at his initiation to the Elenſi-
nian Sacrifices, and before his deſcent into
Hell, thence to fetch the only Hel-hound
Cerberus : and in Theſeus, who, as Plutarch
in his life hath left upon Record, required
the ſame Expiation after the Homicides he
had committed.
To the other kind of Luſtration, among
the Egyptians and old Hebrews, were requi-
red Waſhing, Faſting, and Abſtinence from
Women. Of Waſhing , let Moſes be a wit-
neſs, who when he was to receive the De-
calogue from Almighty God, fanctified the
people, and commanded them to purge
themſelves by waſhing , and not to come
near their Wives. Of Fafting, we are cer-
tified from the very form of the ſolemn
Reſpons and Profeſſion to be made by the
Votary, which clemens Alexandrinus (Pro-
treptic. pag. 13.) delivers to be this;
EVÁVÉGÉT JOY TOY nuleãrde, Jejunavi , ebibi cyce-
And as for Castimony ; we have an
authentic teſtimony from Arrianus (in Epi-
&etum lib. 3. cap. 21.) Hominem ad ſacra
rite acceffarum, [μετά θυσίας, και μετά ευχών, και
TFPONYVEUKÓTA, post ſacrificium, e poſt preces,
onem.
a

Reflections Mythological 261
el premiſſa castitate. The High Prieſt there-
fore alwaies abſtained from Matrimony:and
thoſe of Ceres Eleuſina were anointed with
the juice of Hemlock,to extinguiſh the heat
of Concupiſcence, as the old scholiaſt upon
the 5th. Satyr of Perſius obſerves; and St.
Hierome (contra Jovian. lib. 1.) remembers,
that the Hierophanta among the Athenians
were caſtrated by frequently fipping the
fame juice of Hemlock, loſing their virility
to obtain the Pontificate. A cuſtom re-
pugnant to the Moſaic Law, by which none
but perfect men are capable of Prieſthood:
and to the Conſtitutions alſo of the Papary,
none having been ( as they ſay ) for many
Ages together heretofore admitted to fit
in St. Peters Chair, until he had undergone
the Scrutiny of the sella Perforata, now laid
aſide as unneceſſary; whereof a witty Poet
made this Tetraſtich.
Non poterat quiſquam referantes ethera
claves
Non exploratis fumere testiculis.
Cur igitur nostro mos hic jam tempore cef
Sat ?
Ante probat fefe quilibet effe Mareni.
S 3

262 Reflections Mythological.
In ancient times , none was Elected Pope,
Till he had paſs’d the Sex-diſcerning grope,
Why is that ſcrutiny now usºd no more?
Now Prieſts approve their Man-hood
long before.
Voshly
But not further to digreſs , evident itis,
that this inaugural Luſtration with its
Ceremonies, was common to all Religions;
though perhaps not without ſome diffe
rence in the inſtruments, or outward means:
it being a remark of the moſt learned Sir
John Marſham, out of Procopius Gazæus, (in
Deuteronom.)that the puriſications ordained
in the Levitical Canons, differed from thoſe
of the Grecians in this, that theſe were per-
formed uſually with incantations, ſalt, bay
leaves,barly,ſea-water and paſſing through
fire; but thoſe not.
Of theſe three parts of Luſtration inau-
gural, that accounted moſt efficacious, ſeems
to have been Baptiſm or Waſhing: a thing
of ſacred eſteem in all ages, and in all reli-
gions; and among the Hebrews , ſtrictly en-
joyned by their wiſe Law-giver Mofes. For
we read ( Exod. 19. V. 14.) that when the
Iſraelites were to be initiated to the holy
Diſciplines by him inſtituted, he came down
to the people, and fanctified them,and they
wafbed

Reflections Mythological. 263
waſhed their Garments: and by this ab-
lution of their cloaths, Interpreters unani-
mouſly underſtand the waihing of their bo-
dies allo; according to the very letter of
that precept given, ( Levit. 15. ver. 11. Mures
πλυνάς τα μάλα, λάσεται και σώμα υδαί, Lavabit
vestimenta , & lavabit corpus aqua. Hence
the Jews at this day deduce the origine of
their Baptiſm; which that Nation hath ever
ſince uſed with folemn Reverence, not only
to the purgation of their external impuri-
ties, or to the ablution of their ſins; but alſo
to the Regeneration of their Profelytes, when
they give up their names to Judaiſm; of
whom Jethro, the Father-in-law of Mofes,
is accounted the firſt. For, the three rites
of initiation to be obſerved by a Gentil
converted, at his admiſſion into the Hebrew
Church or Congregation, are well known
to be Circumcifion, Baptiſm, and oblation.
Concerning which our Prince of Antiqua-
ries, , Mr. Selden profeffedly diſcourſing,
proves by many credible teſtimonies, that
the Baptiſm of a Proſelyte was celebrated
in the preſence of at leaſt three Elders, ſo
ſoon as the wound of Circumciſion was
healed, and in ſome river or fountain of
living water, not in any veſſel or artifici-
al Bath, and never but once (on that occa-
S4
fion)

264 Reflections Mythological.
fion) either by the Profelyt himſelf, or by
any of his poſterity. Hereof the Effect was
this, that a Profelyt thus inaugurated, was
held perfectly regenerate, and a new man,
as an infant born of a new Mother, and in-
fpired with a new Soul from Heaven: ſo that
being utterly deveſted of all former cogna-
tion, he was thenceforth reputed to have no
kindred, no affinity , either in right of Ef
pouſal, or ſucceſſion to the goods of the de-
ſed, beſides thoſe who likewiſe had the
character of Baptiſm. Upon which diſtin-
guiſhing character it was, that Arrianus re-
Hected, when (in Epictetum , lib. 2. cap. 9.
he ſaid; quum quiſpiam induerit fibi affectum
Baptizati di inter fe&tatores aſciti, tunc eft
revera, & appellatur
. Judeus.
Now though the Hebrews may have deri-
ded this Luſtration by Baptiſm, from the in-
ſtitute of Moſes : yet it is not improbable,
but he might firſt derive it from the exam-
ple of the Egyptians., among whom he had
ſo long lived, and in whoſe Learning as well
ſacred as civil, he had been from his child-
hood educated. For, Apuleius Metamor-
phos, Lib.9. ) being himſelf to be initiated
to the Myſteries of Iſis, exprefly declares,
that waſhing was in uſe among the Egypti-
ans,
in all their ſacred Admiſſions: and de
fcribing

Reflečtions Mythological. 26
ſeribing the ceremonies of his own admif-
ſion, Sacerdos (faith he) Štipatum me re-
ligioſa cohorte deducit ad proximas balneas ;
e prius fueto lavacrotraditum præfarus Deum
veniam, puriſſime circumrorans abluit, &c.
Nor is it to be doubted, but this was then
done to him, de more antiquo, according to
the moit ancient uſeof that Nation. Which
while the Iſraelites remain’d in bondage
among them, were much more likely to
give Examples to them, than to receive
any from them: it being ſeldom obſerved,
that Lords imitate their Slaves. But this is
confirmed by Tertullian ( de Baptiſmo cap.5.)
where he writes, ; Nationes Sacris quibuſ
dam per lavacrum initiantur, Ifidis alicujus,
aut Mithre [lummi apud Perſas numinis ]
ipfos etiam Deos ſuos lavationibus efferunt,
&c. And whenceſoever Moſes borrowed
this rite, we have it under the hand of Di-
'odorus Siculus ( lib. 1. ) that it was tradu-
ced from Ægypt to Athens by King Erech-
theus.
Nor is there juſt cauſe, why the tradu-
etion of the like Baptiſm from the Jews to
Christians, ſhould be urged to the diſpa-
ragement of our Myſtical Ablution at the
font, when by the Church we are admitted
to Chriſtianiſm : as well becauſe ours was
changed

266 Reflections Mythological.
changed from a mere rite to a bleſſed Sa-
crament, by Chriſt himſelf, the Author of
our faith, honored by his Example, and
fanctified by his Benediction, and the Di-
vinity of its conſtitution confirmed by the
miraculous deſcent of the moſt Holy Spirit,
in form of a Dove; as becauſe, tho the Ex-
ternal act of waſhing continue ſtill the ſame,
yet the signification and Effiacy thereof
become infinitely more noble and excellent.
Again, if it be true (as ſome very learned
men have held ) that thoſe Articles of faith,
and thoſe religious Rites and Ceremonies,
that are embraced by men of all Religions,
and as it were ſeald by univerſal conſent of
Mankind, in all Ages, be leſs obnoxious to
exceptions and diſpute, than others that are
proper and peculiar only to ſome one Reli-
gion, Age, or Nation . then certainly by
how much more antique and common to
various Religions and Nations, this Rite of
Expurgation by Water hath been ; by fo
much more ſacred ought it to be eſteem'd.
But this is only a Digreſſion from my
Theme, the Luſtration of Ethnics, and more
particularly of the Grecians.
Whereby thoſe who were legitimately
initiated, were eſteem'd not only more ho-
norable then others in this life, but more
happy

Reflections Mythological. 267
happy after death. For, their Wiſe men
taught, and the Vulgar therefore beliey'd,
that by virtue of ſuch Luſtrations, the Souls
of men were rendred more defecate and
pure from the contagion of the body, re-
fined as it were from the droſs of ſenſual
affections, and made more fit and expedite
for contemplation of Divine things. Whence
Sophocles the Tragedian, writing of Myſte-
ries, is ſaid by Plutarch ( de audiendis Poe-
tis ) to have compoſed theſe verſes.
“Ως τρισύλβιος
Keiyor Apolwy, on muuta! AgXOévtis Tian,
Μολωσ' ες άδε. τοις δε γδμο'νοις εκ
Zño 63'; mois d'amorn d'll tes ya ngoma.
ámom wall desi ngerar.
Felices nimis
Initia quotquot ifta cum conſpexerint,
Eunt ad Orcum. Namq; eos ſolos manet
Ibi vita: reliquos, miferias præter,
nihil.
and the Chorus in Ariſtophanes's Comedy na-
med the Froggs, was made to fing theſe ;
Solis nobis Solat
son Et lux hilaris eft,
ees. Qui initiamur, ou
akoPiam degimus vitam, &c.
, & ita
This

268 Refle&tions Mythological.
This perſuaſion therefore being ſo univer-
ſally diffuſed among the Grecians, and ren-
dred ſo plauſible by Superſtition; no won-
der if Plato, in this Dialogue, put this as
an Axiom into the mouth of Socrates : Who-
ever not expiated, nor with due rites initiated,
Mall deſcend to the Manſions of Souls depar-
ted; ſhall there bye romling in mudd: but
who fall after expurgation and initiation,
come thither, fall for ever dwell with
Gods. Nor this altogether without reaſon,
becauſe the Initiati were both obliged to
newneſs of life, and reformation of man-
ners; and inſtructed in Philoſophy as well
Natural as Moral.
II.
The Antiquity and Traduction of the opinion
of the Souls Immortality.
.
713:) ſpeaking of the Indian Brach-
mans, be lo raſh to ſay of them [zruleg xaÉXKO
μύθας, άσσος και Πλατων, που ταφθαρσίας ψυχής, και καθ'
* ds spíracov] that they, as Plato, compoſe
fables of the incorruptibility of the Soul,
and of judgements in the infernal ſhades :
yet

Reflections Mythological. 269
yet to me it ſeems not to be doubted, but
the belief of the Immortality of mans Ra-
tional Soul, is fully as ancient as Mankind it
ſelf. For; methinks, the Excellency of its
own Faculties and Operations, above all
Material Agents, ſhould be alone ſufficient
to afford to every contemplative man, cer-
tain glimpſes of both the divine Original,
and Immortality thereof: and the deſire of
poſthume glory, an affection congenial and
natural ( Ariſt
. 2. de Anima, calls it nebom
9: Oma temov, moſt natural) to all noble minds,
together with a ſecret fear of future unhap-
pineſs, common to all; to give pregnant
hints of its fempiternal Existence after
death.
And yet notwithſtanding, ſuch has been
the cruelty of Time, in the deſtruction of
Books and other Monuments ; and ſo far
hath Oblivion (wallowed up the Tenents
and Doctrines of the yonger World: that
of this ſo reaſonable and comfortable an
opinion, we can find no prints remaining,
but what the Grecian Sages obſerved among
the Ægyptians, and from them tranſmitted
down to poſterity. From them alone
therefore, we are to trace the tradition
thereof.
Con-

270 Reflections Mythological.
Conſentaneous it is, that the Eleuſinian
Mysteries and other ſacred Rites ſo folemn-
ly obſerved and celebrated by the ancient
Ægyptians, more particularly that of Li-
ftration juſt now explicated, were grounded
upon a belief of, and had their chief re-
fpect unto a future life, and the different
ſtate of good and bad Souls therein. For,
to what end could that religious Ablution
and Expurgation ſerve, but as they were
perfuaded) to rinſe away the ſtains of guilt
from the Soul, or ( as Tertullian de Baptiſ
mo cap. 5. exprefſeth it) in regenerationeri,
O impunitatem perjuriorum fuorum: if they
were not poſſeſſed with a belief even to con-
fidence, of the Eternal Duration of the
Soul after death; and that in a condition
of Felicity or Miſery, according to its vir-
tuous or vicious Affections and Actions in
this life? Had they admitted the extinction
thereof by death, vain certainly, and ab-
furd had been all their care and follicitude
about the purification of it from the pollu-
tions of Sin, and from the dreggs of ſen-
ſual inclinations, before death. The ſame
may be by like genuine conſequence infer-
red from their moſt magnificent Sepulchres,
their exquiſite Embalmings of the dead,
and their Amenthes or ſubterraneous place
into

Reflections Mythological.
271
into which they held the Souls of the De-
funct to be received. But what need
we range into their Mythologies in ſearch af-
ter evidence of their being ſtrongly poſſef-
red with this opinion ; when we have
proofs from Authority unqueſtionable, that
their Prieſts and otherLearned men exprefly
taught it?
Hear then Herodotus ( lib. 2. cap. 123. )
ſaying, Ægyptij primi ſunt, qui Animam
hominis immortalem effe dicerent, is ev Operme
foxol Oaxaros (31": ejus tranſmigrationem in alia
animalia terreſtria, marina, volueria, rur-
fumq; in corpus humanum,docuerunt: hunc cir-
cuitum ab ea fieri intra 3000 annos, Szc
Upon which he elſewhere reflecting, hath
this pertinent remark: Hinc tantun condi-
endi cadaveris ftudium, tant& in ftruendis
repoſitorijs impenſa.
This Doctrin being brought from the
Ægyptian Schools by Orpheus, and from
him deſcended to Homer; he thence taught,
that Eternal Souls are from Heaven con-
veyed into human bodies, and that after
death they return to the Gods; for a Sym-
bol of this region of Corruption, feigning
his Antrum Nympharum, wherein
AÚw T o duexcés Civ, &c.
Janua duplex :
Нес

272 Reflections Mythological.
Hec Boream
ſpectans homines de
mittit : at illa
Odyſſ
. iz
Refpiciens Austrum divinior, in- V. 1092
via prorſus
Eli homini, præbetq; viam immor-
talibus unis.
Of which Poetical fi&tion Porphyrius giving
the Mythology, wrote an excellent Book,
publiſhed by Holſtenius, de Antro Homerico:
wherein he tells us, that the Cave it ſelf car-
ries [εικόνα και σύμβολον το κόσμο an image
and ſymbol of the world: that the Naiades.
or Nymphs, are Souls [ éis y veciv xal Cou]
entered into bodies newly generated: that
one Gate is for the admittance of Souls
deſcending into bodies; the other for, not
Gods, but Souls aſcending from bodies to
the Gods again. Wherefore he calldit the
road or way, not of the Gods, but [ @@x-
VATAN ] of Souls, which are by their very
Eilence Immortal.
From this commonly embraced Exiſtence
of Souls departed, aroſe the 'Eldaromtólix of
Image-making of the Ancient Ethnics ;
whereby they attributed to Souls ſeparated
from their bodies, Effigies quali Corporeas:
whereunto Virgit ſeems learnedly to allude,
where he makes Dido, as ſhe was dying,
ſay:
Et

Reflections Mythological 273
Et nunc magna mei ſub terràs ibit imago ;
and Lucretius (lib. 1.) in theſe verſes:
Eſſe Acherufia templa;
Quo neq; permanent Anime, neq; corpora
nostra;
Sed quædam Simulacra, modis pallentia
miris.
From the ſame fountain, and at the ſame
time allo, were derived into Grece the
Comments concerning the Manſions of Souls
delivered from their bodies, and the Re-
wards and Puniſhments to come. For Dio-
dorus Siculus Č lib. 1. pag. 61. ) hath left
this record thereof: Dicunt Orpheum, dum
impiorum palmas apud inferos, & pioranı
prata, di peruulgatas Spettrorum fitiones
introduxit, funebres Ægyptiorum ritus imi.
tatum fuiffe : adding, that from the old in-
ſtitute of the Ægyptians, Mercury was made
[ tuxottoji nis ] the Conductor of Souls ad
inferos. Wherein Homer long after carry-
ing on the tradition of Orpheus, promotes
the credit of the fiction, by inſerting it in-
to his immortal Poem ( in initio Odyſs. ã. )
“Ερμής και ψυχας κυλλένιG- εξεκαλέτο
'Ardgar üçãar. čxe S ecßlov METO negCiv, &c.
The Souls of Hero's, Mercury the God
Calls forth [ and guides t' Elyſium ] with
his rod.
S
But

274
Reflections Mythological.
But leaving the moſt ancient Grecian
Poets, who yet were then the only Theo-
logues; let us perſue this tradition of the
Souls Immortality, among their moſt emi-
nent Philoſophers, as men leſs prone to
Credulity, and therefore more worthy of
credit.
Of theſe, the eldeſt we can find, is
Thales Mileſtus, who ( as Plutarch. de pla-
citis lib. 4. cap. 2. atteſteth ) firſt defined
the Soul to be [ púo in delujbutev, i đuuivuor]
a nature perpetually moving, and ſelf-mo-
ving. Which argument Cicero indeed af-
terward borrowing from Plato's Phædrus,
moſt judiciouſly explained, in the firſt book
of his Tuſculan Queſtions: but fathers the
opinion it ſelf upon Pherecydes Syrius, in
theſe words. Credo equidem etiam alios,
fed ( quod literis exstet ) Pherecydes Syrus
( Syrius rather, from Syros, an Iſland of
the Ægean Sea, the place of his birth)
primum dixit
, Animos hominum eſſe fempi-
ternos : hanc opinionem diſcipulus ejus Pytha-
goras maxime confirmavit. 1970
But (by Cicero's favour) Pythagoras, who
ſeems to have been yonger then Homer by
almoſt 400 years, (for he was among the
Ægyptians carried away captive by Camby-
ſes, as appears from that place in Apuleius
Florid.

Reflections Mythological.
275
Florid. lib. 2. Pythagoram aiunt, inter captivos
Cambyſa Regis, doctores habuifſe Perfarum
Magos; ac precipue Zoroaſtrem, omnis divini
arcani antiftitem) drew this Doctrin, not
out of the ſtreams of either Orpheus, or
Homer, or Phercydes, but from the very
ſpring-head of Ægypt. And he taught,
that the Soul was [ &şigudv iccuir uxŠTO ] a
ſelf-moving Number, and [ @poxeter ] in-
capable of deſtruction, returning after its
departure from the body, to its original the
Univerſal Soul of the world: as we find in
the records of Plutarch, de placit. lib. .4.
cap. 2.
Next comes Heraclitus the Epheſian, whom
Porphyrius (de Antro pag. 257.) makes the
Author of that memorable fentence con-
cerning our Souls [ ziv kuces éveiv av B&vx Toy ;
o za fucives gov üleétegur Bekvatov ] that this our
life is tlae souls death, and our death the souls
life ; that the Soul deſcended from Heaven
to animate the body, ſuffers Exile in this
loweſt and darkſom region, and remains as
it were dead, during its impriſonment in
fleſh.
Then Empedocles Agrigentinus, a Pytha-
gorean ; who ( as Plutarch de Exilio com-
memorates ) ſpeaking likewiſe of the del
cont of his Soul, as a Baniſhment from its
Celeſtial
S2

276 Reflections Mythological.
Celeſtial home; Ego jamdudum (ſaith he)
eo exul a Deo, da vagus : and of the Eternal
Society of the juſt, that they ſhould be after
death, immortalium aliorum contubernales,
O convive, expertes humanarum miſeriarum,
incorruptibiles, immortales. Whence it may
be with good probability conjectured, that
Pindar took the main argument of his
2d.
Olympic ode ; wherein he ſings, that the Juſt
enjoy eternal light, and life exempt from
cares and labour among the Gods: where-
upon Plutarch excellently deſcanteth, de
facie in luna.
And at length our Plato, whom our beſt
Antiquaries and Chronologiſts agree to
have fouriſhed about the 100 Olympiad,
in the reign of Artaxerxes Mnemon over the
Perſians. This Father of the Academics,
though he would have Homer ejected out of
his Common-wealth, as a Poet; yet both
embraced his doctrin of the immortal Exi-
Hence of the Soul, and added no little au-
thority to his deſcription of the Infernal
Manſions; eſpecialy in this Dialogue, where
he introduceth Socrates diſcourſing moſt
profoundly of the Immortality of the Soul.
Whereupon Cicero perhaps reflecting (in
lib. I. Tuſculan. ) faith; Platonem ferunt, ut
Pythagoræos cognofceret, in Haliam veniffe ;

Refle&tions Mythological. 277
& in ea cum alios multos, tum Architam Ti-
mæumq; cognoviſſe, & didiciſſe Pythagoræ om-
nia; primumq; de Animorum æternitate, non
folum fenfiffe idem quod Pythagoras, fed rati-
onem etiam attuliſë.
From Plato down to his Diſciples and
Succeſſors the Academics, we need not fur-
ther deduce this conſtant Doctrin: it being
of it ſelf fufficiently manifeſt to all men not
inconverſant in the writings of the ancient
Philoſophers devolved to our late hands,
that whatſoever either the Author of that
laudable Dialogue entitled Axiochus (vul-
garly adſcribed to Plato, and inſerted into
his works ) or Cicero in his noble Dialogue
de senectute, & Contemnenda morte; or Se-
neca in his Epiſtles, and elſewhere; or in-
deed St. Auguſtin and Tertullian, or any
other hath written of this Subject, either
ex profeßo, or only in tranfitu; hath been
borrowed from him. And yet notwith-
ſtanding, it may not be thought imperti-
nent, nor vulgar, if we obſerve; that among
the Jews, the Phariſes (whoſe original our
univerſally learned Sir John Marſham hath
moſt plainly traced out, in pag. 151. of his
Chronic. Canon ) impoſing only new terms
upon the Philoſophy of the Academics, con-
ſented to the common opinion of the Greeks
con-
S 3

278
Reflections Mythological.
cerning the Soul; as Joſephus himſelf at-
teſterh (Belli Judaici lib. 2. cap. 7. ) who
there delivers the belief of the Eſſens, con-
cerning the happy frate of Good Souls fe-
parated from their bodies, in the very
words of Homer. Nor is it obſcure, that
the Jews themſelves believed the meterva-
MÓTalv, or Tranſmigration of Souls from
one human body into another : when ſome
thought our bleſſed Saviour Jeſus Christ to
be St. John the Baptiſt, fome Elias, others
Jeremias, or one of the Prophets Math.
S
16: . 14.)
Digreſſion

279
2001:002000 10:00
DIGRESSION.
How far the Souls Immortality may
be proved by human Reaſon.
B
UT is it not of more importance to
know, how ſtrong and reaſonable this
Opinion of the perpetual duration
of ſeparate Souls appears to be, than
to inveſtigate the age and tradition
of it ? Certainly yes, and ſhould my Reader
here require my eſtimate of the force and vali-
dity of the various Arguments or pretended D:.
monſtrations brought by Plato in the precedent
Dialogue, to evidence the verity thereof: I
might juſtly enough make uſe of the licence
thereby given me, to examine what I deſigned
only to tranſlate. But becauſe it may be thought
an indecency, if not ingratitude in a mere In-
terpreter, to cenfure the power and extent of
the reaſonings uſed, and the concluſions thence
drawn by his Author, and becauſe this lauda-
ble curiofity of the Reader ( whom I preſume
to be poſſeſſed with ſuch ) may perhaps be
more fully gratified, by a frank communication
'S 4
of

280 DIGRESSION.
of my ſentiments concerning that more general
Enquiry, viz. How far the Immortality of the
Soul may be proved by simple reaſon, or the fole
light of Nature, without the illumination of ſacred
Writ, or revelation Divine : I ſhall therefore
with the freedom belonging to a Philoſopher,
and due fubmiffion to more elevated Wits,
adventure to acquaint him briefly with thoſe
my thoughts; chooſing rather to expoſe them
to his fevereſt ſcrutiny, 'than by animadverſions
upon the arguments of Plato in particular, to
ſhew the leaſt umbrage or irreverence towards
his memory.
I confeſs then, that tho I have read,
and
with due attention of mind confidered the ut.
molt rigor of many Diſcourſes profeſſedly com-
poſed for, and ſpeciouſly promiſing a ſufficient
eviction of the fempiternal Exiſtence of the
Rational Soul after death, by reaſons drawn
only from her own excellent nature, faculties,
affections, operations, &c, yet I could not per-
ceive, that any one of them taken ſingle, or all
put together, had the force of a perfect Demon-
ſtration; ſo that were not the Light of the fir-
ly Scriptures infinitely more clear and convin-
cing, as to that among many other important
truths concerning the Soul, I ſhould ſtill remain
unafſured of the endleſs Duration of my nobleft
part. For
Firſt, as to the Origine of this excellent Be-
ing; the Doctrines of Natural Philofophers con-
cerning this, are no leſs various then their Sects;
and all but darkſom opinions, or precarious
CON-

DIGRESSION. 281
conjectures. Nay even thoſe few among them,
who held it to be of Divine Original, tho there-
in they hit the very white of truth, appear
notwithſtanding to have ſhot wide, when they
conceived it to have been Eternal ex parte ante,
a particle of the Divine Eſſence it ſelf, and pre-
exiſtent to its conjunction with the body.
Whereas that ſacred Oracle, the Word of God
plainly teaches, that the Soul of the firſt man
was created immediately by God himſelf, and
united to the body then already perfectly formed
and prepared to receive it.
Secondly, As to the grand Difficulty, the na-
țural Exemption of it from the power of Death,
when thereby divorced from the body; the
Arguments brought from Phyſical Mediums for
probation hereof, do indeed ſuffice to convince
us of the Spirituality and Seperability of the
Soul: but ſuffice net ( in my judgement at leaſt)
to demonſtrate the impoſſibility of its deſtruction,
or that abſolutely it ſhall ſurvive the diſſolution
of the body for ever the ſame.
I grant, that ſome, and chiefly that moſt rigid
of Phyfico-Mathematicians , Des Cartes (in me-
ditat. Metaphyſic. de Anima, e reſpon. ad objedi.
fecund. ) have gone ſo far, as fairly to convince
any man of competent underſtanding, that the
Soul, tlo in this life obliged to act for the moſt
part , by the Organs of the Senſes, doth yet
diſcover its excellency, by actions proper and
peculiar to her ſpiritual nature, wholly indepen-
dent upon, and diſtinct from the Senſes : and
thence by genuine conſequence inferred, that the
fame

282 DIGRESSION.
ſame Soul, tho by a ſtrict and intimate conjun-
ction with the body, united into one Compoſia
tum therewith, is yet nevertheleſs a thing or
fubſtance diſtinct from the body. I grant alſo,
that by this very Argument the Immortality
of the Soul may be ſufficiently proved againſt
Epicureans and Atheifts. For theſe men taking
the Soul to be, not formally and truly a Sub-
ſtance, but only a certain Modification of body;
thereupon concluded, that it muſt of neceſſity
perilh, or ceaſe to be the fame, when the fa-
brique or frame of the body, from whence it
reſulted, is deſtroyed by Death. If therefore
from ſome intelectual operations of this Soul,
ſuch to which matter or body, however mo-
dified, or organized, cannot poſſibly reach ; it
be made appear (and Des Cartes ſeems to have
donc it ) that ſhe is a Subſtance diſtinct from,
and independent upon the body: there will re-
main no reaſon, much leſs an abſolure neceſſi-
ty, why the diffolution of the body ſhould in.
fer the deſtruction of the Soul, as they imagine;
more eſpecially if the latter be conceived to be
( what moſt certainly it is ) a ſimple and ſpiri-
tual fubftance, as incapable of deſtruction, as them-
felves hold matter to be.
But I dare not grant, that this Cartefian De-
monſtration holds good, as againſt Epicureans
and Atheiſts, who exclude God from having any
hand in the creation and conſervation of the
Soul; fo likewiſe againſt thoſe who acknow-
ledge God to be the ſole Creator and preſerver
of all things. For, admitting the Soul to be
both

DIGRESSION. 283
both a ſubſtance diſtinct from the body, and
immediately created, and continualy conſerved
by Cod: yet can we not lawfully infer from
thence, that it is not poſſible for ſuch a Soul
ever to ceaſe to be. For what aſſurance can fim-
ple reaſon give us, that God hath not ordained,
that this Soul, as it had a beginning when it
was created to be infuſed into the body, ſo at
the tiine of its ſeparation from the body, ſhall
loſe its being, and vaniſh into its primitive no-
thing? That the duration thereof neceſſarily de-
pends upon Gods conſerving power and influ-
ence, is undeniable: and it ſeems confentaneous,
that as the Union or Aſſociation of the Soul to
the Body was at firſt made, not by any Agents
meerly Natural, but upon conditions depending
folely upon Gods free and arbitrary inſtitution ;
fo ( for ought we can learn from the weak light
of Nature to the contrary ) one of the Con-
ditions may be, that at the diſſolution of that
Union, both Body and Soul ſhould ceaſe to be.
Eſpecially ince to the Souls relapſing into its
firſt nothing, no more is required, but Gods
withdrawing his conſerving influence, by which
alone all his Creatures are ſupported, and their
Being is preſerved. Here then we find our
ſelves left in the dark by human reaſon; fo
that were it not for the brighter beams of Rex
velation Divine , how fair ſoever our bopes
might be of Inmortality, we ſhould want a full
aſſurance of it. To conclude therefore this Pa-
rergon, with the concordant judgement, and in
the moſt elegant words of that moſt excellent
Phi.

284 DIGRESSION.
Y
CS
Philoſopher and Chriſtian, the
In Pag. 30. of his
noble Mr. Boyl; all that meer
Book concerning Reaſon can demonſtrate con-
the Excellency of cering this Subject, may be
Theology
reduced to theſe two things:
One, "That the Rational Soul
being an Incorporeal ſubſtance, there is no
neceſſity that it ſhould periſh with the body;
“ſo that if God hath not otherwiſe appointed,
“the Soul may ſurvive the body, and laſt for
ever: The Other, That the Nature of the
“Soul, according to Des Cartes, conſiſting in its
being a Subſtance that thinks; we may con-
“clude, that tho it be by death ſeparated from
"the body, it will nevertheleſs retain the power
" of thinking. To more then this Des Cartes
was both too circumſpect, and too conſcious of the
dimneſs of human reaſon to pretend, tho fome
of his Secators, miſtaking the deſign and ſcope
of that his diſcourſe, have conceived it to ex-
tend even to an eviction alſo of the Souls abro-
lute Immortality. For ( in artic. 7. reſpon. ad
object. 2.) he makes this ingenuous profeſſion.
Cur de immortalitate anima nihil fcripſerim, jam
dixi in Synopſi mearun meditationum ; quod ejus
ab omni corpore diftinétionen Satis probaverim, ſu-
pra oftendi. Quod vero additis, ex diftin&tione
anima a corpore non ſequi ejus immortalitatens ;
quia nihilominus dici poteſt, illam a Deo talis na.
ture factam effe, ut ejus Duratio fimul cum dura-
tione vite corporee finiatur; fateor a me refeli non
poſſe. Neq; enim tantum mihi afumo, ut quic-
quam de ijs que a libera Dei voluntate dependent,
bumana

DIGRESSION. 285
humanæ rationis vi determinare aggrediar. Docet
quidem naturalis cognitio, mentem a corpore ese
diverſam, ipſamq; le ſubſtantiam, &c. Sed ſi de
abſoluta Dei poteftate quæratur, an forte decreverit
ut animæ humana iifdem temporibus elle defiuant,
quibus corpor a que illis adjunxit , deftruuntur ;
ſolius eſt Dei reſpondere. Cumq; jam ipfe nobis re-
velavcrit, id non futurum ; nulla plane, vel minima
eft occafio dubitandi.
of

286
Reflections Mythological.
III.
of the Comments of the ancient Ethnics, con-
cerning the infernal Manſions of Souls
departed.
THO
Ho the deſcription of Tartarus and
Elyſium here in the latter part of this
grave Dialogue made by Plato, be by him-
ſelf declared to have been borrowed for
the moſt part from the Fictions of others,
chiefly Poets; and that he expreſly af-
firms, that to deliver any thing poſitive-
ly concerning the future ſtate of Souls,
and the qualities of Rewards and Puniſh-
ments in the next life, is the part of a
raſh , not a wiſe man: yet foraſmuch as
the deſign and utility of thoſe fictions,
is not more conſpicuous, than the firſt in-
vention of them is to men inconverſant in
the monuments of Antiquity, obſcure ; and
becauſe there are, even at this day, not a
few who entertain and promote as groſs,
and in many things the like ſuperſtitious
conceipts of Hell : I think it worth the
expence of a few vacant minutes, to deduce
them briefly from their original, as high at
leaſt as my little reading reacheth,
The

Reflections Mythological. 287
The firſt Natural Philoſophy, whereof
the envy of Time hath ſpared ſome little
fragments to be handed down by tradi-
tion to this our ſo diſtant age ; ſeems to be
that which ſuppoſed two Contrary Princi-
ples of all things that had beginning. Of
theſe, one was God the Maker, in the
Grecian Theology named zeüs ( concer-
ning the Etymology of which name, t'will
be no loſt labour, nor impertinent, to
conſult the moſt learned Voffius , in Ety-
mologico Lingua Latina, in verbo, Juvo )
and the Author of Life: The other, Matter,
call d aliks, which hath the power of Dil-
Solution or Death. To the Firſt was al-
cribed Light and Day; to the Latter, Dark-.
neſs and apaviouds, Non-apparence : for Ådus
fignifieth privation of Light. Under the
Empire of Zeus or Jove, was placed the
upper part of the World: the inferior was
aſſigned to the dominion of Pluto : the
middle betwixt theſe two contrary Priri-
ciples, was imagined to be agitated by per-
petual reciprocations, or alternate changes;
ſo that Life and Death, Light and Dark-
neſs, Good and Evil rule by turns. Congru-
ous whereunto is that aſſertion of the Prince
of Phyſicians,Hippocrates (lib. de Diæta) ni-
hil gigni, neq; prorfus interire, That as to
Matter,

288 Reflections Mythological
60
Matter, nothing is either generated or
deſtroyed : and that to be generated, is
to grow out of Hade into light ; men
thinking that to periſh, which from light
decreaſed into Hade or darkneſs again.
For, it hath been an univerſal Axiom of
ancient Philoſophers, nihil ex nihilo fieri,
ant in nihilum redigi : aud therefore they
who allowed the World to have had a
beginning, held the Matter of it to have
been pre-exiſtent from all Eternity.
Now this which the Grecians named
Hades, the Ægyptians call'd Amenthes,
which ſignifies a place giving and recei-
ving, viz. Souls ; as Plutarch (de Ibde )
interpreteth it. Which notion, together
with the opinion of the Souls Immorta-
lity, and future rewards and puniſhments,
being by the Ægyptian Prieſts communi-
cated to Orpheus : he from thence, after
his return into Greece, feigned a Hell,
in imitation of the Funeral Rites he had
obſerved among them, as is exprefly a-
verred by Diodorus Siculus ( lib. I. pag.
71.) formerly quoted : who addeth; that
the other Comments of the Grecians de
inferis, were in moſt things conformable
to the manner and place of Obſequies
performed by the Ægyptians, even in his
own

phological
289
own time. For (faith he) the boat where-
in dead bodies are uſually carried to bu-
rial, is calld Bégis; and a half-penny is
given for a fare to the Boatman, who
the tongue of that Nation is callid
Charon : not far from the Ferry; there
ſtands ( they ſay ) a Temple of Hecate
the Darksom ; and the gates of Cocytus
and Lethe, made faſt with braſen barrs ;
and other gates of Verity, by which ſtands
an image or ſtatue of Justice, without a
head, &c. ve
And Servius ( in Virgil. lib. 6. ad hunc
verſum ; fic demum lucos Stygios, regna
invia vivis, aſpicies } delivers, that Sene-
in a certain book he wrote de ritu
& facris Ægyptiorum, reports, that about
Sienes, an extreme part of Ægypt, is a
certain place which they call Philas, that
is, the Female Friends ; becauſe there Ijis
was appeaſed and attoned by the Ægyp-
tians, after her diſpleaſure conceived for
that ſhe had not found the limbs of her
husband ofiris, whom his brother Typhon
had flain.' Which being afterward found;
when ſhe deſired to bury them, ſhe choſe
the ſafeſt place of a neer Mariſh, wherea
unto the acceſs was extremely difficult;
V
and
ca

290 Reflections Mythological.
and embarraſs'd; the Mariſh being full
of Mudd and Papyr-flaggs. Beyond this
is a ſhort Iſland, inacceſſible to men :
whence it was calld Abatos, and mentio-
ned by Lucan ; Hinc Abatos, quam noftra
vocat veneranda vetustas. This Mere is
named Styx, becauſe it raiſeth sadneſs
and sorrow in all that paſs over it : and
hither on certain daies, come ſuch who
have been initiated to the ſacred Rites;
and that it had been written, that the
neighbouring people carry over their dead
to the other fide of the Lake: but if any
chance to periſh in the difficult paſſage,
and his body be not found ; his Funeral
Obſequies are to be deferred untill a hun-
dred years be expired. Whence that
dream, Centum errant annos, volitanq; hæc
littora circum.
Farther, well known it is, even to
yong Students of Homer, that his ‘Adus
is divided into Tartarus ( deſcribed at the
13th. Iliad v. 0. ) and Elyſium ( deſcribed
@dyſ: d. v. 563.) and both according to
the doctrir of the Ægyptians, who pla-
ced both the Bridewell of the wicked
and the Mulberry Gardens of the Juſt
wa Afx, in a ſubterraneous place or region
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