My wings I open, my sails spread wide, And cleave like an eagle life’s glassy tide; Gulls follow my furrow’s foaming; Overboard with the ballast of care and cark; And what if I shatter my roaming bark, It is passing sweet to be roaming! FALK [_starting from a reverie_]. What, music? Ah, it will be Lind’s quartette Getting their jubilation up.—Well met! [_To_ GULDSTAD, _who enters with an overcoat on his arm_. Ah, slipping off, sir? GULDSTAD. Yes, with your goodwill. But let me first put on my overcoat. We prose-folks are susceptible to chill; The night wind takes us by the tuneless throat. Good evening! FALK. Sir, a word ere you proceed! Show me a task, a mighty one, you know—! I’m going in for life—! GULDSTAD [_with ironical emphasis_]. Well, in you go! You’ll find that you are in for it, indeed. FALK [_looking reflectively at him, says slowly_]. There is my program, furnished in a phrase. [_In a lively outburst._ _Now_ I have wakened from my dreaming days, I’ve cast the die of life’s supreme transaction, I’ll show you—else the devil take me— GULDSTAD. Fie, No cursing: curses never scared a fly. FALK. Words, words, no more, but action, only action! I will reverse the plan of the Creation;— Six days were lavish’d in that occupation; My world’s still lying void and desolate, Hurrah, to-morrow, Sunday—I’ll create! GULDSTAD [_laughing_]. Yes, strip, and tackle it like a man, that’s right! But first go in and sleep on it. Good-night! [_Goes out to the left._ SVANHILD _appears in the room over the verandah; she shuts the window and draws down the blind._ FALK. No, first I’ll act. I’ve slept too long and late. [_Looks up at_ SVANHILD’S _window, and exclaims, as if seized with a sudden resolution:_ Good-night! Good-night! Sweet dreams to-night be thine; To-morrow, Svanhild, thou art plighted mine! [_Goes out quickly to the right; from the water the_ CHORUS _is heard again._ CHORUS. Maybe I shall shatter my roaming bark, But it’s passing sweet to be roaming! [_The boat slowly glides away as the curtain falls._