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Peer.
Cakes? Ay, a heaped-up dish.
And the dean's wife[1] is getting ready
Your coffee and your dessert.
Åse.
Lord, Lord! shall we two come together?
Peer.
As freely as ever you will.
Åse.
Oh, deary, Peer, what a frolic
You're driving me to, poor soul!
Peer.
[Cracking his whip.]
Gee-up; will you stir yourself, Black-boy!
Åse.
Peer, dear, you're driving right?
Peer.
[Cracking his whip again.]
Ay, broad is the way.
Åse.
This journey,
It makes me so weak and tired.
Peer.
There's the castle rising before us;
The drive will be over soon.
- ↑ "Salig provstinde," literally "the late Mrs. Provost."
