Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/55



No, you're worth a better fate; Better twenty thousand times! Little, ugly, dear old mother, You may safely trust my word,— All the parish shall exalt you; Only wait till I have done Something—something really grand

[Contemptuously.]

You!

Who knows what may befall one

Could you but find so much sense, One day, as to do the darning Of your breeches for yourself!

[Hotly.]

I will be a king, a kaiser!

Oh, God comfort me, he's losing All the little wits he'd left!

Yes, I will! Just give me time!

Give you time, you'll be a prince, So the saying goes, I think!

You shall see!