I haven’t a tail! THE OLD MAN. Then of course you must get one. See my Sunday-tail, Chamberlain, fastened to him. PEER. I’ll be hanged if you do! Would you make me a fool? THE OLD MAN. None comes courting my child with no tail at his rear. PEER. Make a beast of a man! THE OLD MAN. Nay, my son, you mistake; I make you a mannerly wooer, no more. A bright orange bow we’ll allow you to wear, And that passes here for the highest of honours. PEER. [_Reflectively._] It’s true, as the saying goes: Man’s but a mote. And it’s wisest to follow the fashion a bit. Tie away! THE OLD MAN. You’re a tractable fellow, I see. THE COURTIER. Just try with what grace you can waggle and whisk it! PEER. [_Peevishly._] Ha, would you force me to go still further? Do you ask me to give up my Christian faith? THE OLD MAN. No, that you are welcome to keep in peace. Doctrine goes free; upon that there’s no duty; It’s the outward cut one must tell a troll by. If we’re only at one in our manners and dress, You may hold as your faith what to us is a horror. PEER. Why, in spite of your many conditions, you are A more reasonable chap than one might have expected. THE OLD MAN. We troll-folk, my son, are less black than we’re painted;[52] That’s another distinction between you and us.— But the serious part of the meeting is over; Now let us gladden our ears and our eyes. Music-maid, forth! Set the Dovrë-harp sounding! Dancing-maid, forth! Tread the Dovrë-hall’s floor! [_Music and a dance._ THE COURTIER. How like you it? PEER. Like it? H’m—— THE OLD MAN. Speak without fear! What see you? PEER. Why something unspeakably grim:[53] A bell-cow with her hoof on a gut-harp strumming. A sow in socklets a-trip to the tune. THE COURTIERS. Eat him! THE OLD MAN. His sense is but human, remember! TROLL-MAIDENS. Hu, tear away both his ears and his eyes! THE GREEN-CLAD ONE. [_Weeping._]