Act II, Scene 5

A hillside, wooded with great soughing trees. Stars are
gleaming through the leaves; birds are singing in the
tree-tops.

A GREEN-CLAD WOMAN is crossing the hillside; PEER GYNT follows
her, with all sorts of lover-like antics.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[Stops and turns round.]
Is it true?

PEER.
[Drawing his finger across his throat.]
As true as my name is Peer;—
As true as that you are a lovely woman!
Will you have me? You’ll see what a fine man I’ll be;
You shall neither tread the loom nor turn the spindle.
You shall eat all you want, till you’re ready to burst.
I never will drag you about by the hair——

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Nor beat me!

PEER.
No, can you think I would!
We kings’ sons never beat women and such.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
You’re a king’s son?

PEER.
Yes.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
I’m the Dovrë-King’s daughter.

PEER.
Are you! See there, now, how well that fits in!

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Deep in the Rondë has father his palace.

PEER.
My mother’s is bigger, or much I’m mistaken.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Do you know my father? His name is King Brosë.

PEER.
Do you know my mother? Her name is Queen Åsë.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
When my father is angry the mountains are riven.

PEER.
They reel when my mother by chance falls a-scolding.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
My father can kick e’en the loftiest roof-tree.

PEER.
My mother can ride through the rapidest river.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Have you other garments besides those rags?

PEER.
Ho, you should just see my Sunday clothes!

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
My week-day gown is of gold and silk.

PEER.
It looks to me liker tow and straws.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Ay, there is one thing you must remember:—
This is the Rondë-folk’s use and wont:
All our possessions have two-fold form.
When shall you come to my father’s hall,
It well may chance that you’re on the point
Of thinking you stand in a dismal moraine.

PEER.
Well now, with us it’s precisely the same.
Our gold will seem to you litter and trash!
And you’ll think, mayhap, every glittering pane
Is nought but a bunch of old stockings and clouts.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
Black it seems white, and ugly seems fair.

PEER.
Big it seems little, and dirty seems clean.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[Falling on his neck.]
Ay, Peer, now I see that we fit, you and I!

PEER.
Like the leg and the trouser, the hair and the comb.

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[Calls away over the hillside.]
Bridal-steed! Bridal-steed! Come, bridal-steed mine!

[A gigantic pig comes running in with a rope’s end for
a bridle and an old sack for a saddle. PEER GYNT
vaults on its back, and seats the GREEN-CLAD ONE in
front of him.

PEER.
Hark-away! Through the Rondë-gate gallop we in!
Gee-up, gee-up, my courser fine!

THE GREEN-CLAD ONE.
[Tenderly.]
Ah, but lately I wandered and moped and pined—
One never can tell what may happen to one!

PEER.
[Thrashing the pig and trotting off.]
You may know the great by their riding gear!