Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/290



Nay, my good Prince Peer!

Let me go! You're mad, Or else doting. Off to the hospital with you!

Oh, that is exactly what I'm in search of. But, as I told you, my grandson's offspring Have become overwhelmingly strong in the land, And they say that I only exist in books. The saw says: One's kin are unkindest of all; I've found to my cost that that saying is true. It's cruel to count as mere figment and fable

My dear man, there are others who share the same fate.

And ourselves we've no Mutual Aid Society, No alms-box or Penny Savings Bank;— In the Rondë, of course, they'd be out of place.

No, that curs'd: To thyself be enough was the word there!

Oh, come now, the Prince can't complain of the word. And if he could manage by hook or by crook

My man, you have got on the wrong scent entirely;