A word in your ear, madam; no one else must hear this.—Sirs, withdraw for a space.—Clotho, if you will let me escape, I pledge myself to give you a quarter of a million sterling this very day.

Ha, ha! So your millions are still running in your head?

Shall I throw in the two mixing-bowls that I got by the murder of Cleocritus? They weigh a couple of tons apiece; refined gold!

Drag him up. We shall never get him to come on board by himself.

I call you all to witness! My city-wall, my docks, remain unfinished. I only wanted five days more to complete them.

Never mind. It will be another’s work now.

Stay! One request I can make with a clear conscience.

Well?

Suffer me only to complete the conquest of Persia; and to impose tribute on Lydia; ... and erect a colossal monument to myself, ... and inscribe thereon the military achievements of my life. Then let me die.

Creature, this is no single day’s reprieve: you would want something like twenty years.