Imagine a scenario much like Plato describes at the end of the Phaedo, where Socrates, in his jail cell, surrounded by friends, having been condemned to death by the court of Athens, is about to receive the hemlock. Suppose, further, that Socrates, as in Plato's dialogue, drinks the hemlock, but does not die. Instead, a messenger rushes in to announce to those present that Socrates was pardoned from his sentence and that the messenger has an antidote, which he then administers and which will restore Socrates back to his former state of health. The only catch is that Socrates is no longer allowed to practice philosophy in any way or form. Being both obedient to law and opposed to suicide and self-exile, Socrates continues his life without philosophy. He can make love to his wife, play with his children, and chat with people about the weather and politics; but he can do no philosophy—either publicly or in private. We might suppose that Socrates has an immense capacity for philosophy and a compelling disposition toward doing it. But he is equally strong-willed, and each time he is tempted toward philosophy, his daimon says no, he must obey the law. It would be commonly said of this Socrates that he now cannot live up to his potential, that he no longer is able to perfect himself. But would we necessarily say he has lost the ability to achieve well-being or human flourishing? Could Socrates not obtain well-being or human flourishing by taking up some other activity with pleasurable and satisfying dimensions, even if they are not philosophical activities? To what degree can one's perfectibility be separated from one's well-being or human flourishing, and how might the latter be dependent upon the former, if it is at all? Is someone's good necessarily good for that person?

Consider another scenario regarding Socrates and the hemlock.