Cory. [unpleasantly]. No, Thyrsis.
By digging down for water for my sheep.
Thyr. Corydon, come to the wall a minute, will you?
I want to talk to you.
Cory. I haven't time.
I'm making me a necklace of red stones.
Thyr. I'll give you all the water that you want,
For one of those red stones,—if it's a good one.
Cory. Water?—what for?—what do I want of water?
Thyr. Why, for your sheep.
Cory. My sheep?—I'm not a shepherd!
Thyr. Your sheep are dying of thirst.
Cory. Man, haven't I told you
I can't be bothered with a few untidy
Brown sheep all full of burdocks?—I'm a merchant,
That's what I am!—And I set my mind to it,
I dare say I could be an emperor!
[To himself.] Wouldn't I be a fool to spend my time
Watching a flock of sheep go up a hill,
When I have these to play with—when I have these
To think about?—I can't make up my mind
Whether to buy a city, and have a thousand
Beautiful girls to bathe me, and be happy
Until I die, or build a bridge, and name it
The Bridge of Corydon,—and be remembered
After I'm dead.
Thyr. Corydon, come to the wall,
Won't you?—I want to tell you something.