Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/162

In just the way it first was won;
Ay, ay,—and by another track
I'll get my old possession back.

Brand.

So all your cunning, all your art,
Aim'd but to win the people's heart?

The Mayor.

God help me, no! The common good
And profit of this neighbourhood
Has been my single, sole desire.
But, I admit, there did conspire
The worker's hope of worthy hire
For day's work honestly pursued.
The fact stands thus: a resolute
And able man, with sense to boot,
Demands to see his labour's fruit,
And not to drudge and sweat and groan
To profit an Idea alone.
With the best will I can't afford
To throw my interests overboard,
And give my brains without reward.
I've a large household to supply,
A wife, and of grown girls a store,
Who must be first provided for;—
Belly that's empty, throat that's dry,
The <g>idea</g> scarce will satisfy,
Where mouths so many must be fill'd.
And any man who should demur,
For him I have but one reply,—
He's an unworthy householder.

Brand.

And now your object is—?