Peer.
I share the honour with my cash,
With cook and steward
Mr. Cotton.
Very well;[1]
Let's pledge a toast to all the four!
Monsieur Ballon.
Monsieur,[2] you have a gout,[2] a ton,[2]
That nowadays is seldom met with
Among men living en garçon,—[2]
A certain—what's the word ?
Von Eberkopf.
A dash,
A tinge of free soul-contemplation,
And cosmopolitanisation,[3]
An outlook through the cloudy rifts
By narrow prejudice unhemmed,
A stamp of high illumination,
An Ur-Natur,[2] with lore of life,
To crown the trilogy, united.
Nicht wahr, Monsieur, 'twas that you meant?
Monsieur Ballon.
Yes, very possible; not quite
So loftily it sounds in French.
Von Eberkopf.
Ei was![4] That language is so stiff.—
Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/162
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.