This page needs to be proofread.
Balmy night is made for music;
- music is our common sphere;
- in the act of singing, we are
- we, Peer Gynt and nightingale.
- And the maiden's very sleeping
- is my passion's crowning bliss;-
- for the lips protruded o'er the
- beaker yet untasted quite-
- but she's coming, I declare!
- After all, it's best she should.
ANITRA [from the tent].
- Master, call'st thou in the night?
PEER
- Yes indeed, the Prophet calls.
- I was wakened by the cat
- with a furious hunting-hubbub-
ANITRA
- Ah, not hunting-noises, Master;
- it was something much, much worse.
PEER
- What, then, was't?
ANITRA
- Oh, spare me!
PEER
- Speak.
ANITRA
- Oh, I blush to-
PEER [approaching].
- Was it, mayhap,
- that which filled me so completely
- when I let you have my opal?
ANITRA [horrifi
