Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/50

 Till none knows its lean old carcass. That is just what you've been doing, Vamping up things, wild and grand, Garnishing with eagles' backs And with all the other horrors, Lying right and lying left, Filling me with speechless dread, Till at last I recognised not What of old I'd heard and known!

If another talked like that I'd half kill him for his pains.

[Weeping.]

Oh, would God I lay a corpse; Would the black earth held me sleeping. Prayers and tears don't bite upon him.— Peer, you're lost, and ever will be!

Darling, pretty little mother, You are right in every word;— Don't be cross, be happy

Silence!

Could I, if I would, be happy, With a pig like you for son? Think how bitter I must find it, I, a poor defenceless widow, Ever to be put to shame!

[Weeping again.

How much have we now remaining From your grandsire's days of glory?