The Man in Grey.
Ay, true; but we know you were never dainty.
The Man in Mourning.
If only she doesn't give Death the slip
The Man in Grey
Come, kinsman! A dram, for our kinship's sake!
The Man in Mourning.
To the deuce with your kinship! You're maundering in drink
The Man in Grey.
Oh, rubbish; blood's never so thin as all that;
One cannot but feel one's akin to Peer Gynt.
[Goes off with him.
Peer.
[To himself.]
One meets with acquaintances.
A Lad.
[Calls after the Man in Mourning.]
Mother that's dead
Will be after you, Aslak, if you wet your whistle.
Peer.
[Rises.]
The husbandman's saying seems scarce to hold here:
The deeper one harrows the better it smells.
A Lad.
[With a bear's skin.]
Look, the cat of the Dovrë![1] Well, only his fell.
It was he chased the trolls out on Christmas Eve
- ↑ See Appendix.
