Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/171

 To the last penny shall be spent.— Now, Mayor, are you still confident That you can shake me from my thought?

[With folded hands.]

I stand—as from the clouds dropp'd down Such things are even in a Town Scarce heard of,—and yet here, for us, Who long to the necessitous Have closed our purses and our doors, You loose this flood of gifts unbounded That ripples, flashes, foams and pours—. —No, Brand, I'm utterly dumbfounded

In thought I long ago resign'd My wealth

Yes, whisper'd hints have flown Pointing to something of the kind. But I regarded them as wind. How many men give all they own Without a tangible return? However, that's your own concern.— Go on! I'll follow. You're in feather, You can act freely, work and sway.— Brand, we will build the Church together

What, you are willing to give way?

Dear God's my witness, that I am! And shall be while my wits are sound!