Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 4).djvu/58



Fie now! Would you crown our miseries With a load of all men's scorn?

Never fear; 'twill all go well.

[Shouting and laughing at the same time

Mother, jump! We'll spare the waggon; 'Twould take time to fetch the mare up

[Lifts her up in his arms.

Put me down!

No, in my arms I will bear you to the wedding!

[Wades out into the stream.

Help! The Lord have mercy on us! Peer! We're drowning

I was born For a braver death

Ay, true; Sure enough you'll hang at last!

[Tugging at his hair.

Oh, you brute!

Keep quiet now; Here the bottom's slippery-slimy.

Ass!