Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/254



Where I come from, there smiles are prized As highly as pathetic style.

All has its time; what fits the taxman, So says the text, would damn the bishop.

The host whose dust inurned has slumbered Treads not on week-days the cothurnus.

Avaunt thee, bugbear! Man, begone! I will not die! I must ashore!

Oh, as for that, be reassured;— One dies not midmost of Act Five. [Glides away.

Ah, there he let it out at last;— He was a sorry moralist.

SCENE THIRD.

Churchyard in a high lying mountain parish.

''A funeral is going on. By the grave, the and a gathering of people. The last verse of the psalm is being sung. passes by on the road.''

[At the gate.]

Here's a countryman going the way of all flesh. God be thanked that it isn't me.

[Enters the churchyard.