Stranger:
For twenty silver pieces he is yours.
Captain:
That's cheap, if he has skill. Yes, there might be
Profit in him at that. Has he a trade?
Stranger:
He is a carpenter.
Captain:
A carpenter!
Why, for a good one I'ld give all my purse.
Stranger:
No, twenty silver pieces is the price;
Though 'tis a slave a king might joy to own.
I've taught him to imagine palaces
So high, and tower'd so nobly, they might seem
The marvelling of a God-delighted heart
Escaping into ecstasy; he knows,
Moreover, of a stuff so rare it makes
Smaragdus and the dragon-stone despised;
And yet the quarries whereof he is wise
Would yield enough to house the tribes of the world
In palaces of beautiful shining work.
Captain
Lo there! why, that is it: the carpenter
I am to bring is needed for to build
The king's new palace.
Stranger: Yea? He is your man.
Captain:
Come on, my man. I'll put your cunning heels
Where they'll not budge more than a shuffled inch.
My lord, if you'll bide with the rascal here
I'll get the irons ready.
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