Agathon: Well, what if you want to take a walk?
Allen: Good question. I can't.
(The three of us sit in classical poses, not unlike a frieze. Finally Agathon speaks.)
Agathon: I'm afraid the word is bad. You have been condemned to death.
Allen: Ah, it saddens me that I should cause debate in the senate.
Agathon: No debate. Unanimous.
Allen: Really?
Agathon: First ballot.
Allen: Hmmm. I had counted on a little more support.
Simmias: The senate is furious over your ideas for a Utopian state.
Allen: I guess I should never have suggested having a philosopher-king.
Simmias: Especially when you kept pointing to yourself and clearing your throat.
Allen: And yet I do not regard my executioners as evil.
Agathon: Nor do I.
Allen: Er, yeah, well… for what is evil but merely good in excess?
Agathon: How so?
Allen: Look at it this way. If a man sings a lovely song it is beautiful. If he keeps singing, one begins to get a headache.
Agathon: True.
Allen: And if he definitely won't stop singing, eventually you want to stuff socks down his throat.
Agathon: Yes. Very true.
Allen: When is the sentence to be carried out?
Agathon: What time is it now?
Allen: Today!?
Agathon: They need the jail cell.
Allen: Then let it be! Let them take my life. Let it be recorded that I died rather than abandon the principles of truth and free inquiry. Weep not, Agathon.
Agathon: I'm not weeping. This is an allergy.
Allen: For to the man of the mind, death is not an end but a beginning.
Simmias: How so?
Allen: Well, now give me a minute.
Simmias: Take your time.
Allen: It is true, Simmias, that man does not exist before he is born, is it not?
Simmias: Very true.
Allen: Nor does he exist after his death.
Simmias: Yes. I agree.
Allen: Hmmm.
Simmias: So?
Allen: Now, wait a minute. I'm a little confused. You know they only feed me lamb and it's never well-cooked.
Simmias: Most men regard death as the final end. Consequently they fear it.
Allen: Death is a state of non-being. That which is not, does not exist. Therefore death does not exist. Only truth exists. Truth and beauty. Each is interchangeable, but are aspects of themselves. Er, what specifically did they say they had in mind for me?
Agathon: Hemlock.
Allen: (Puzzled) Hemlock?
Agathon: You remember that black liquid that ate through your marble table?
Allen: Really?
Agathon: Just one cupful. Though they do have a back-up chalice should you spill anything.
Allen: I wonder if it's painful?
Agathon: They asked if you would try not to make a scene. It disturbs the other prisoners.
Allen: Hmmm…
Agathon: I told everyone you would die bravely rather than renounce your principles.
Allen: Right, right… er, did the concept of "exile" ever come up?
Agathon: They stopped exiling last year. Too much red tape.
Allen: Right… yeah… (Troubled and distracted but trying to remain self-possessed) I er… so er… so-what else is new?
Agathon: Oh, I ran into Isosceles. He has a great idea for a new triangle.
Allen: Right… right… (Suddenly dropping all pretense of courage) Look, I'm going to level with you-I don't want to go! I'm too young!
Agathon: But this is your chance to die for truth!
Allen: Don't misunderstand me. I'm all for truth. On the other hand I have a lunch date in Sparta next week and I'd hate to miss it. It's my turn to buy. You know those Spartans, they fight so easily.