Ophrys bombyliflora Link
Button Moulder - Hello, old man.
Peer - Good evening, friend.
Button Moulder - In a hurry? What are you doing, here on this empty moor?
Peer - Moving towards my death. What else?
Button Moulder - Ah. Excuse me... my eyes aren't what they were. Are you Peer Gynt?
Peer - So people say.
Button Moulder - Perfect! The man I was sent to find.
Peer - What for?
Button Moulder - Easy. I'm a button moulder. You're to go in my ladle.
Peer - Why?
Button Moulder - To be melted down.
Peer - Pardon?
Button Moulder - Here's the ladle, wiped and waiting. Your grave's dug. Your coffin's ordered. My orders are to fetch your soul to the Boss at once.
Peer - Without a word of notice?
Button Moulder - That's how it's always done. Births... burials. Day chosen on the quiet. Not a word to the guest of honour.
Peer - I don't feel well. Oh Peer! What an end to your journey! I wasn't all that bad. An idiot, perhaps. Not a proper sinner.
Button Moulder - Precisely. Not a proper sinner. You were not bad enough for the sulphur-pit, nor good enough for paradise. That's why you go to the casting ladle with the others.
Peer - You're going to melt me down, and start again?
Button Moulder - That's right. Like worn out coins.
Peer - I refuse. I won't.
Button Moulder - What's all the fuss about? It's not important. You were never yourself, alive - why do you care what happens when you're dead?
Peer - Never myself? You're joking! Never myself - Peer Gynt? What else have I ever been? I am Peer. All Peer.
Button Moulder - You have been selfish, but not yourself.
Henrik Ibsen, Peer Gynt (1867; trad. Kenneth McLeish)