Reynard
[calling]
  And so would I!

Hans the Butcher
So please your worships, may it please the Crier,
Now we be here,—­to cry the Piping Man—­

Peter the Cobbler
A stranger-man, gay-clad,—­in divers colors! 
Because he, with said piping—­

Hans the Butcher
  —­Drave away
The horde of rats!

Peter the Cobbler
[sagely]
  To our great benefit;
And we be all just men.

Others
  Ay, ay!—­Amen!

Women
Amen, Our Lady and the blessed Saints!

Jacobus
Why, faith, good souls, if ye will have him cried,
So be it.—­But the ways of Heaven are strange! 
Mark how our angel of deliverance came,—­
Or it may be.  Saint Willibald himself,—­
Most piedly clothed, even as the vilest player!—­
And straight ascended from us, to the clouds! 
But cry him, if you will.—­Peace to your lungs!—­
He will not come.

[Kurt wrathfully consults with Jacobus, then signals to Crier.

Crier
  Oyez!  Oyez!  Oyez! 
Whereas, now three days gone, our Plague of Rats
Was wholly driven hence, our City cleansed,
Our peace restored after sore threat of famine,
By a Strange Man who came not back again,
Now, therefore, if this Man have ears to hear,
Let him stand forth.—­Oyez!  Oyez!  Oyez!

[Trumpet.—­People gaze up and down the little streets.—­Reynard steps out of the Ark and comes down slowly, with a modest air.—­Kurt points him out, threateningly, and the crowd bursts into derisive laughter.—­He doffs his animal-head at leisure, showing a sparkling dark-eyed face.

All
The Man! the Man!

Kurt and Jacobus
  The Devil!—­’T is—­

All
  —­the piper!

[The piper regards them all with debonair satisfaction; then reverses his head-piece and holds it out upside-down, with a confident smile.

Piper
Three days of rest, your worships, you have had. 
I see no signs of famine hereabout. 
The rats are gone, even to the nethermost tail: 
And I’ve fulfilled my bargain.  Is it granted?

[Murmurs, then cheers of “Ay, Ay, piper!” from the crowd.

Thank ’ee.—­My thousand guilders, an you please.

Jacobus
One thou—­Come, come!  This was no sober bargain.—­
No man in reason could—­

Piper
  One thousand guilders.

Kurt
One thousand rogueries!

Jacobus
[to piper]
  You jest too far.

Axel
Lucky, if he get aught!—­Two hundred traps,
And nine, and thirty!  By Saint Willibald,
When was I paid?

AXEL’S wife
  Say, now!

Piper
  . . .  One thousand guilders.