Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/290

The Old Man.

Nay, my good Prince Peer!

Peer.

                          Let me go! You're mad,
Or else doting. Off to the hospital with you!

The Old Man.

Oh, that is exactly what I'm in search of.
But, as I told you, my grandson's offspring
Have become overwhelmingly strong in the land,
And they say that I only exist in books.
The saw says: One's kin are unkindest of all;
I've found to my cost that that saying is true.
It's cruel to count as mere figment and fable——

Peer.

My dear man, there are others who share the same fate.

The Old Man.

And ourselves we've no Mutual Aid Society,
No alms-box or Penny Savings Bank;—
In the Rondë, of course, they'd be out of place.

Peer.

No, that curs'd: <g>To thyself be enough</g> was the word there!

The Old Man.

Oh, come now, the Prince can't complain of the word.
And if he could manage by hook or by crook——

Peer.

My man, you have got on the wrong scent entirely;