Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/442

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Miss Jay.

With her own hands she's trimming her own dress

An Aunt [patting Anna's hand].

And growing exquisitely sensible.

Falk [laughing aloud].

O parody of sense, that rives and rends
In maniac dance upon the lips of friends!
Was it good sense he wanted? Or a she-
Professor of the lore of Cookery?
A joyous son of springtime he came here,
For the wild rosebud on the bush he burned.
You reared the rosebud for him; he returned—
And for his rose found what? The hip!

Miss Jay [offended].

                                   You jeer!

Falk.

A useful household condiment, heaven knows!
But yet the hip was not his bridal rose.

Mrs. Halm.

O, if it is a ball-room queen he wants,
I'm very sorry; these are not their haunts.

Falk.

O yes, I know the pretty coquetry
They carry on with "Domesticity."
It is a suckling of the mighty Lie
That, like hop-tendrils, spreads itself on high.