Sir Peter
What colour'd hair
Has Peter now? has Jacques got bow legs?
John Curzon
Why, sir, you jest—what matters Jacques' hair,
Or Peter's legs to us?
Sir Peter
O! John, John, John!
Throw all your mason's tools down the deep well,
Hang Peter up and Jacques; they're no good,
We shall not build, man.
John Curzon (going)
Shall I call the guard
To hang them, sir? and yet, sir, for the tools,
We'd better keep them still; sir, fare you well.
[Muttering as he goes.
What have I done that he should jape at me?
And why not build? the walls are weak enough,
And we've two masons and a heap of tools.
[Goes, still muttering.
Sir Peter
To think a man should have a lump like that
For his lieutenant! I must call him back,
Or else, as surely as St. George is dead,
He'll hang our friends the masons—here, John! John!
John Curzon
At your good service, sir.
