Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/170



Just so! They are so very old That not a trace of them is left. But in my late grandfather's day A wall-hole still defied decay!

A wall-hole?

Fit to hold a tun!

But the wall's self?

Oh, that was gone. In plain terms then, I am compell'd To say, your scheme is out of court:— A barbarous and unparallel'd Horrible sacrilege, in short. And then the money,—do you dream These folks are so profuse in spending, That they'll contrive new cost by lending Existence to a half-hatch'd scheme? When with a little deftness they May so far patch the crumbling wall That in our time it will not fall? But just go out!—the field survey,— You'll find, I'm winner after all.

From no man will I wring a jot To give my God house-harbourage: With my own goods it shall be wrought; In that one work my heritage