Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/54



Why Aslak, to be sure.

Shame—and shame; I spit upon you! Such a worthless sot as that, Such a brawler, such a sodden Dram-sponge to have beaten you!

[Weeping again.

Many a shame and slight I've suffered; But that this should come to pass Is the worst disgrace of all. What if he be ne'er so limber, Need you therefore be a weakling?

Though I hammer or am hammered,— Still we must have lamentations.

[Laughing

Cheer up, mother

What? You're lying Now again?

Yes, just this once. Come now, wipe your tears away;—

[Clenching his left hand.

See,—with this same pair of tongs, Thus I held the smith bent double, While my sledge-hammer right fist

Oh, you brawler! You will bring me With your doings to the grave!