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upon your Emperor's brow!
- Victory on his Person's basis
- has Peer Gynt this night achieved.
SCENE EIGHTH
[A caravan route. The oasis is seen far off in the background.] [PEER GYNT comes galloping across the desert on his white horse, with ANITRA before him on his saddle-bow.] ANITRA
- Let be, or I'll bite you!
PEER
- You little rogue!
ANITRA
- What would you?
PEER
- What would I? Play hawk and dove!
- Run away with you! Frolic and frisk a bit!
ANITRA
- For shame! An old prophet like you-!
PEER
- Oh, stuff!
- The prophet's not old at all, you goose!
- Do you think all this is a sign of age?
ANITRA
- Let me go! I want to go home!
