Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/158



I will lie back and close my eyes then, And trust me to you, my boy!

Come up with you, Granë, my trotter! In the castle the throng is great; They bustle and swarm to the gateway: Peer Gynt and his mother are here! What say you, Master Saint Peter? Shall mother not enter in? You may search a long time, I tell you, Ere you find such an honest old soul. Myself I don't want to speak of; I can turn at the castle gate. If you'll treat me, I'll take it kindly; If not, I'll go off just as pleased. I have made up as many flim-flams As the devil at the pulpit desk, And called my old mother a hen, too, Because she would cackle and crow. But her you shall honour and reverence, And make her at home indeed; There comes not a soul to beat her From the parishes nowadays.— Ho-ho; here comes God the Father! Saint Peter! you're in for it now!

[In a deep voice. "Have done with these jack-in-office airs, sir;   Mother Åse shall enter free!" [Laughs loudly, and turns towards his mother.

Ay, didn't I know what would happen? Now they dance to another tune! [Uneasily. Why, what makes your eyes so glassy?