Lead on! I’ll find again in Bender The world-renowned spur-strap-buckles![78] MONSIEUR BALLON. [_Falling on PEER GYNT’S neck._] Forgive me, friend, that I at first Misjudged you quite! VON EBERKOPF. [_Pressing his hands._] I, stupid hound, Took you for next door to a scoundrel! MR COTTON. Too strong that; only for a fool—— TRUMPETERSTRÅLE. [_Trying to kiss him._] I, Uncle, for a specimen Of Yankee riff-raff’s meanest spawn——! Forgive me——! VON EBERKOPF. We’ve been in the dark—— PEER. What stuff is this? VON EBERKOPF. We now see gathered In glory all the Gyntish host Of wishes, appetites, and desires——! MONSIEUR BALLON. [_Admiringly._] So this is being Monsieur[79] Gynt! VON EBERKOPF. [_In the same tone._] This I call being Gynt with honour! PEER. But tell me——? MONSIEUR BALLON. Don’t you understand? PEER. May I be hanged if I begin to! MONSIEUR BALLON. What? Are you not upon your way To join the Greeks, with ship and money——? PEER. [_Contemptuously._] No, many thanks! I side with strength, And lend my money to the Turks. MONSIEUR BALLON. Impossible! VON EBERKOPF. Witty, but a jest! PEER. [_After a short silence, leaning on a chair and assuming a dignified mien._] Come, gentlemen, I think it best We part before the last remains Of friendship melt away like smoke. Who nothing owns will lightly risk it. When in the world one scarce commands The strip of earth one’s shadow covers, One’s born to serve as food for powder. But when a man stands safely landed, As I do, then his stake is greater. Go you to Hellas. I will put you Ashore, and arm you gratis too. The more you eke the flames of strife, The better will it serve my purpose. Strike home for freedom and for right! Fight! storm! make hell hot for the Turks;— And gloriously end your days Upon the Janissaries lances.— But _I_—excuse me—— [_Slaps his pocket._ I have cash, And am myself, Sir Peter Gynt.[80]