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ER
- Where I come from, there smiles are prized
- as highly as pathetic style.
PEER
- All has its time; what fits the taxman,
- so says the text, would damn the bishop.
THE PASSENGER
- The host whose dust inurned has slumbered
- treads not on week-days the cothurnus.
PEER
- Avaunt thee, bugbear! Man, begone!
- I will not die! I must ashore!
THE PASSENGER
- Oh, as for that, be reassured;-
- one dies not midmost of Act Five.
- [Glides away.]
PEER
- Ah, there he let it out at last;-
- he was a sorry moralist.
SCENE THIRD
[Churchyard in a high-lying mountain parish.] [A funeral is going on. By the grave, the PRIEST and a gathering of people. The last verse of the psalm is being sung. PEER GYNT passes by on the road.] PEER [at the gate].
- Here's a countryman going the way of all flesh.
- God be thanked that it isn't me.
- [Enters the churchyard.]
THE PRIEST [spea
