And lightly enough I can slip my cable
From these your Dovrëfied ways of life.
I am willing to swear that a cow is a maid;
An oath one can always eat up again;—
But to know that one never can free oneself,
That one can't even die like a decent soul;
To live as a hill-troll for all one's days—
To feel that one never can beat a retreat,—
As the book has it, that's what your heart is set on;
But that is a thing I can never agree to.
The Old Man.
Now, sure as I live, I shall soon lose my temper;
And then I am not to be trifled with.
You pasty-faced loon! Do you know who I am?
First with my daughter you make too free
Peer.
There you lie in your throat!
The Old Man.
You must marry her.
Peer.
Do you dare to accuse me ?
The Old Man.
What? Can you deny
That you lusted for her in heart and eye?
Peer.
[With a snort of contempt.]
No more? Who the deuce cares a straw for that?
The Old Man.
It's ever the same with this humankind.