The Woman.
Come now, Peer Gynt, you're as rude as an ox!
[Weeping.
Is it my fault if no longer I'm fair,
As I was when you lured me on hillside and lea?
Last fall, in my labour, the Fiend held my back,
And so 'twas no wonder I came out a fright.
But if you would see me as fair as before,
You have only to turn yonder girl out of doors,
Drive her clean out of your sight and your mind;—
Do but this, dear my love, and I'll soon lose my snout!
Peer.
Begone from me, troll-witch!
The Woman.
Ay, see if I do!
Peer.
I'll split your skull open!
The Woman.
Just try if you dare!
Ho-ho, Peer Gynt, I've no fear of blows!
Be sure I'll return every day of the year.
Through the door, set ajar, I'll peep in at you both.
When you're sitting with your girl on the fireside bench,—
When you're tender, Peer Gynt,—when you'd pet and caress her,—
I'll seat myself by you, and ask for my share.
She there and I—we will take you by turns.
Farewell, dear my lad, you can marry to-morrow!
Peer.
You nightmare of hell!
