And lightly enough I can slip my cable
From these your Dovrëfied ways of life.
I am willing to swear that a cow is a maid;
An oath one can always eat up again;—
But to know that one never can free oneself,
That one can't even die like a decent soul;
To live as a hill-troll for all one's days—
To feel that one never can beat a retreat,—
As the book has it, that's what your heart is set on;
But that is a thing I can never agree to.
The Old Man.
Now, sure as I live, I shall soon lose my temper;
And then I am not to be trifled with.
You pasty-faced loon! Do you know who I am?
First with my daughter you make too free
Peer.
There you lie in your throat!
The Old Man.
You must marry her.
Peer.
Do you dare to accuse me?
The Old Man.
What? Can you deny
That you lusted for her in heart and eye?
Peer.
[With a snort of contempt.]
No more? Who the deuce cares a straw for that?
The Old Man.
It's ever the same with this humankind.
