His Mother.
One I make,
No more; don't set your life at stake.
Keep up our family and name,
That's all the gratitude I claim.
Then see that nothing go to waste,—
Naught be divided or displaced;—
Add much or little, as you will;
But O preserve, preserve it still!
Brand.
[After a short pause.]
One thing needs clearing 'twixt us two.
From childhood I have thwarted you;—
You've been no mother, I no son,
Till you are gray, my childhood gone.
His Mother.
I do not ask to be caress'd.
Be what you please; I am not nice.
Be stern, be fierce, be cold as ice,
It will not cleave my armour'd breast;
Keep, though you hoard it, what was mine,
And never let it leave our line!
Brand.
[Going a step nearer.]
And if I took it in my head
To strew it to the winds, instead?
His Mother.
[Reeling back.]
Strew, what through all these years of care
Has bent my back and bleach'd my hair?
