The Royal Hall of the King of the Dovrë-Trolls. A great assembly of Troll-courtiers, Gnomes, and Brownies. The Old Man of the Dovrë sits on the throne, crowned, and with his sceptre in his hand. His CHILDREN and NEAREST RELATIONS are ranged on both sides. Peer Gynt stands before him. Violent commotion in the hall.
The Troll-courtiers.
Slay him! a Christian-man's son has deluded
The Dovrë-King's loveliest maid!
A Troll-imp.
May I hack him on the fingers?
Another.
May I tug him by the hair?
A Troll-maiden.
Hu, hei, let me bite him in the haunches!
A Troll-witch.
[With a ladle.]
Shall he be boiled into broth and bree?
Another Troll-witch.
[With a chopper.]
Shall he roast on a spit or be browned in a stewpan?
The Old Man of the Dovrë.
Ice to your blood, friends!
[Beckons his counsellors closer around him.
