_PEER GYNT comes galloping across the desert, on his white horse, with ANITRA before him on his saddle-bow._ ANITRA. Let be, or I’ll bite you! PEER. You little rogue! ANITRA. What would you? PEER. What would I? Play hawk and dove. Run away with you! Frolic and frisk a bit! ANITRA. For shame! An old prophet like you! PEER. Oh, stuff! The prophet’s not old at all, you goose! Do you think all this is a sign of age? ANITRA. Let me go! I want to go home! PEER. Coquette! What, home! To papa-in-law! That would be fine! We madcap birds that have flown from the cage Must never come into his sight again. Besides, my child, in the self-same place It’s wisest never to stay too long; For familiarity lessens respect;— Most of all when one comes as a prophet or such. One should show oneself glimpse-wise and pass like a dream. Faith, ’twas time that the visit should come to an end. They’re unstable of soul, are these sons of the desert;— Both incense and prayers dwindled off towards the end. ANITRA. Yes, but are you a prophet? PEER. Your Emperor I am! [_Tries to kiss her._ Why just see now how coy the wee woodpecker is! ANITRA. Give me that ring that you have on your finger. PEER. Take, sweet Anitra, the whole of the trash! ANITRA. Thy words are as songs! Oh, how dulcet their sound! PEER. How blessëd to know oneself loved to this pitch! I’ll dismount! Like your slave, I will lead your palfrey! [_Hands her his riding-whip, and dismounts._ There now, my rosebud, you exquisite flower! Here I’ll go trudging my way through the sand, Till a sunstroke o’ertakes me and finishes me. I’m young, Anitra; bear that in mind! You mustn’t be shocked at my escapades. Frolics and high-jinks are youth’s sole criterion! And so, if your intellect weren’t so dense, You would see at a glance, oh my fair oleander,— Your lover is frolicsome—_ergo_, he’s young! ANITRA. Yes, you are young. Have you any more rings? PEER.