Love's Comedy

by Henrik Ibsen

FALK.
O no, the author is a friend of mine,
And your acquaintance also, I daresay.
The knave's a dashing writer, never doubt.
Only imagine, in a single day
He's worked a perfect little Idyll out.

GULDSTAD [slily].
With happy ending, doubtless!

FALK.
You're aware,
No curtain falls but on a plighted pair.
Thus with the Trilogy's First Part we've reckoned;
But now the poet's labour-throes begin;
The Comedy of Troth-plight, Part the Second,
Thro' five insipid Acts he has to spin,
And of that staple, finally, compose
Part Third,—or Wedlock's Tragedy, in prose.

GULDSTAD [smiling].
The poet's vein is catching, it would seem.

FALK.
Really? How so, pray?

GULDSTAD.
Since I also pore
And ponder over a poetic scheme,—
[Mysteriously.
An actuality—and not a dream.

FALK.
And pray, who is the hero of your theme?

GULDSTAD.
I'll tell you that to-morrow—not before.

FALK.
It is yourself!

GULDSTAD.
You think me equal to it?