Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 4).djvu/181

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 * It is I, Peter Gynt! Oh, Lord, give but heed!
 * Hold thy hand o'er me, Father; or else I must perish!
 * Make them back the machine! Make them lower the gig!
 * Stop the robbers! Make something go wrong with the rigging!
 * Hear me! Let other folks' business lie over!
 * The world can take care of itself for the time!
 * I'm blessed if he hears me! He's deaf as his wont is!
 * Here's a nice thing! A God that is bankrupt of help!
 * [Beckons upwards.]
 * Hist! I've abandoned the nigger-plantation!
 * And missionaries I've exported to Asia!
 * Surely one good turn should be worth another!
 * Oh, help me on board-!

[A jet of fire shoots into the air from the yacht, followed by thick clouds of smoke; a hollow report is heard. PEER GYNT utters a shriek, and sinks down on the sands. Gradually the smoke clears away; the ship has disappeared.] PEER [softly, with a pale face].
 * That's the sword of wrath!
 * In a crack to the bottom, every soul, man and mouse!
 * Oh, for ever blest be the lucky chance-
 * [With emotion.]
 * A chance? No, no, it was more than chance.
 * I was to be rescued and they to perish.
 * Oh, thanks and praise for that thou hast kept me,
 * hast