And lo! by Zeus! we can no longer doze about,—1 and in his ‘Farmers,’ where he writes:—
We have no time,—nor shilly-shally-niciasize;
I want to go a-farming.
Pray who hinders you?
You people do. Come! Let me give a thousand drachms
If you'll release me from my offices.
'Tis done!2
Yours make two thousand, counting those that Nicias gave.