The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 04 (of 11)Ibsen, Henrik
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The collected works of Henrik Ibsen, Vol. 04 (of 11)
Ibsen, Henrik
Ibsen, Henrik, 1828-1906 -- Translations into English; Norwegian drama -- Translations into English
Hu-hu! And this we must hear and put up with,
When I and my sister make music and dance.
PEER.
Oho, was it you? Well, a joke at the feast,
You must know, is never unkindly meant.
THE GREEN CLAD ONE.
Can you swear it was so?
PEER.
Both the dance and the music
Were utterly charming, the cat claw me else.
THE OLD MAN.
This same human nature’s a singular thing;
It sticks to people so strangely long.
If it gets a gash in the fight with us,
It heals up at once, though a scar may remain.
My son-in-law, now, is as pliant as any;
He’s willingly thrown off his Christian-man’s garb,
He’s willingly drunk from our chalice of mead,
He’s willingly fastened the tail to his back,—
So willing, in short, did we find him in all things,
I thought to myself the old Adam, for certain,
Had for good and all been kicked out of doors;
But lo! in two shakes he’s atop again!
Ay ay, my son, we must treat you, I see,
To cure this pestilent human nature.
PEER.
What will you do?
THE OLD MAN.
In your left eye, first,
I’ll scratch you a bit, till you see awry;
But all that you see will seem fine and brave.
And then I’ll just cut your right window-pane out——
PEER.
Are you drunk?
THE OLD MAN.
[_Lays a number of sharp instruments on the table._]
See, here are the glazier’s tools.
Blinkers you’ll wear, like a raging bull.
Then you’ll recognise that your bride is lovely,—
And ne’er will your vision be troubled, as now,
With bell-cows harping and sows that dance.
PEER.
This is madman’s talk!
THE OLDEST COURTIER.
It’s the Dovrë-King speaking;
’Tis he that is wise, and ’tis you that are crazy!
THE OLD MAN.
Just think how much worry and mortification
You’ll thus escape from, year out, year in.
You must remember, your eyes are the fountain
Of the bitter and searing lye of tears.
PEER.
That’s true; and it says in our sermon-book:
If thine eye offend thee, then pluck it out.
But tell me, when will my sight heal up
Into human sight?
THE OLD MAN.
Nevermore, my friend.
PEER.
Indeed! In that case, I’ll take my leave.
THE OLD MAN.
What would you without?
PEER.
I would go my way.
THE OLD MAN.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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