PEHR. Stay! Shall you run away from me? Lisa! Lisa! She's gone! Very well then! Come hither palace and plates and wines and horses and chariots and gold—gold!
A luxurious Banquet Hall. Servants bring on a table, with food and wines; other servants carry in a chest containing gold; others, again, a table covered with plates, vases, candle-sticks, etc.—all of gold.
PEHR. [Walks about and looks around.] So this is the rich man's abode! Well, it looks rather promising. Slaves! Give me my best holiday-coat—but it must be of gold. [Servants hand him a gold-cloth coat.] A chair! [They place a gold chair at table.] Now, Pehr, you shall enjoy life! and that is your right. Haven't you been up mornings at four o'clock; and rung for early Mass; haven't you swept the church on Fridays and scoured the stairs on Saturdays; haven't you eaten bread and herring three hundred and sixty-five days in the year and rinsed them down with cold water; haven't you slept on pease-bolt which was so badly threshed that you could feel the pease in your knee-joints? Oh, yes, you have—therefore enjoy yourself! [Wants to sit at table.]
BUTLER. [With staff in hand.] Pardon, Your Grace! The table is not laid.
PEHR. Isn't it?
BUTLER. In a couple of hours the roasts will be ready.
PEHR. I don't want any roasts.
BUTLER. [Intercepts Pehr with staff.] It can never be that one sits down at an unlaid table!
PEHR. Who forbids me in my own house?
BUTLER. Etiquette, Your Grace, does not under any circumstances permit it.