shall be angry with you while you live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive you as an enemy, for they will know that you have done your best to destroy us. Listen, then, to us, and not to Crito."
This is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring in my ears, like the sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; that voice, I say, is humming in my ears, and prevents me from hearing any other. And I know that anything more which you may say will be vain. Yet speak, if you have anything to say.
Cr. I have nothing to say, Socrates.
Soc. Then let me follow the intimations of the will of God.—J.
PHÆDO.
Two days after this, his friends assemble at the prison-doors for the last time, somewhat earlier than usual. There is a short delay, for the sheriffs have come to take the chains off the prisoner preparatory to his death.
The jailer soon admits them, and "on entering" (says Phæado, who had been present himself) "we found Socrates just released from chains, and Xanthippe sitting by him holding his child in her arms. When she saw us, she uttered a cry and said, as women will, 'O Socrates, this is the last time that either you will converse with your friends, or they with you!' Socrates turned to Crito and said, 'Crito, let some one take her home.' Some of Crito's people accordingly led her away, crying out and beating herself."—J.
Socrates then proceeds to talk in his usual easy manner. He has several times been told in dreams "to make music;" and he has accordingly been turn-
