Åse.
I will lie back and close my eyes then,
And trust me to you, my boy!
Peer.
Come up with you, Granë, my trotter!
In the castle the throng is great;
They bustle and swarm to the gateway:
Peer Gynt and his mother are here!
What say you, Master Saint Peter?
Shall mother not enter in?
You may search a long time, I tell you,
Ere you find such an honest old soul.
Myself I don't want to speak of;
I can turn at the castle gate.
If you'll treat me, I'll take it kindly;
If not, I'll go off just as pleased.
I have made up as many flim-flams
As the devil at the pulpit desk,
And called my old mother a hen, too,
Because she would cackle and crow.
But her you shall honour and reverence,
And make her at home indeed;
There comes not a soul to beat her
From the parishes nowadays.—
Ho-ho; here comes God the Father!
Saint Peter! you're in for it now!
[In a deep voice.
"Have done with these jack-in-office airs, sir; Mother Åse shall enter free!"
[Laughs loudly, and turns towards his mother.
Ay, didn't I know what would happen?
Now they dance to another tune! [Uneasily.
Why, what makes your eyes so glassy?
