Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/279

Peer.

And in consequence, friend, I may go as I came?

The Button-moulder.

No, in consequence, friend, I must melt you up.

Peer.

What tricks are these that you've hit upon
At home here, while I've been in foreign parts?

The Button-moulder.

The custom's as old as the Snake's creation;
It's designed to prevent loss of good material.
You've worked at the craft—you must know that often
A casting turns out, to speak plainly, mere dross;
The buttons, for instance, have sometimes no loop to them.
What did you do then?

Peer.

                      Flung the rubbish away.

The Button-moulder.

Ah, yes; Jon Gynt was well known for a waster,
So long as he'd aught left in wallet or purse.
But Master, you see, he is thrifty, he is;
And that is why he's so well-to-do.
He flings nothing away as entirely worthless
That can be made use of as raw material.
Now, you were designed for a shining button
On the vest of the world; but your loop gave way;
So into the waste-box you needs must go,
And then, as they phrase it, be merged in the mass.