Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/349

 No, hang it; don't be frightened! The powers above would be demented surely To give effect to orders such as these. No, my good sir—the cure for your disease Is exercise for muscle, nerve, and sinew. Don't lie there wasting all the grit that's in you In idle dreams; cut wood, if that were all; And then I'll say the devil's in't indeed If one brief fortnight does not find you freed From all your whimsies high-fantastical.

Fetter'd by choice, like Burnell's ass, I ponder— The flesh on this side, and the spirit yonder. Which were it wiser I should go for first?

[filling the glasses]. First have some punch—that quenches ire and thirst. [looking at her watch]. Ha! Eight o'clock! my watch is either fast, or It's just the time we may expect the Pastor. [Rises, and puts things in order on the verandah.

What! have we parsons coming?

Don't you know?