Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/109



[To ]

You hapless blossom, laid within The pitiless grasp of such a lord!

I am not pitiless.

He had pour'd His blood, to wash her soul from sin

Unask'd, upon myself I took The clearance of her debit-book.

Clear off your own!

One man may get Hundreds acquitted, in God's eyes.

Ay; not a Beggar though, who lies Himself o'er head and ears in debt.

Beggar or rich,—with all my soul I will;—and that one thing's the whole

Yes, in you ledger, truly, Will Has enough entries and to spare: But, priest, your Love-account is still A virgin-chapter, blank and bare. [Goes.