Some hours ago ’twas true However. I have only quoted you;— In these same words you challenged to the field The “caucus” with love’s name upon your shield. Then rang repudiation fast and thick From all directions, as from you at present; Incredible, I know; who finds it pleasant To hear the name of death when he is sick? Look at the priest! A painter and composer Of taste and spirit when he wooed his bride;— What wonder if the man became a proser When she was snugly settled by his side? To be his lady-love she was most fit; To be his wife, tho’—not a bit of it. And then the clerk, who once wrote clever numbers? No sooner was the gallant plighted, fixed, Than all his rhymes ran counter and got mixed; And now his Muse continuously slumbers, Lullabied by the law’s eternal hum. Thus you see— [_Looks at_ SVANHILD. Are you cold? SVANHILD [_softly_]. No. FALK [_with forced humour_]. Since the sum Works out a _minus_ then in every case And never shows a _plus_,—why should you be So resolute your capital to place In such a questionable lottery? It almost looks as if you fancied Fate Had meant you for a bankrupt from your birth? GULDSTAD [_looks at him, smiles, and shakes his head_]. My bold young Falk, reserve a while your mirth.— There are two ways of founding an estate. It may be built on credit—drafts long-dated On pleasure in a never-ending bout, On perpetuity of youth unbated, And permanent postponement of the gout. It may be built on lips of rosy red, On sparkling eyes and locks of flowing gold, On trust these glories never will be shed, Nor the dread hour of periwigs be tolled. It may be built on thoughts that glow and quiver,— Flowers blowing in the sandy wilderness,— On hearts that, to the end of life, for ever Throb with the passion of the primal “yes.” To dealings such as this the world extends One epithet: ’tis known as “humbug,” friends. FALK. I see, you are a dangerous attorney, You—well-to-do, a millionaire may-be; While two broad backs could carry in one journey All that beneath the sun belongs to me. GULDSTAD [_sharply_]. What do you mean? FALK.