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SCENE SEVENTH
[Another part of the heath.] PEER GYNT [sings].
- A sexton! A sexton! where are you, hounds?
- A song from braying precentor-mouths;
- around your hat-brim a mourning band;-
- my dead are many; I must follow their biers!
[THE BUTTON-MOULDER, with a box of tools, and a large casting-ladle, comes from a side-path.] THE BUTTON-MOULDER
- Well met, old gaffer!
PEER
- Good evening, friend.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER
- The man's in a hurry. Why, where is he going?
PEER
- To a grave-feast.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER
- Indeed? My sight's not very good;-
- excuse me,-your name doesn't chance to be Peer?
PEER
- Peer Gynt, as the saying is.
THE BUTTON-MOULDER
- That I call luck!
- It's precisely Peer Gynt I am sent for to-night.
