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]]
[Puts up his sunshade, and goes into the grove, where the hammocks are partly visible.]