Peer.
Old man, don’t act like a headstrong ox!
Hear reason, maiden! Let’s come to terms.
You must know I’m neither a prince nor rich;—
And whether you measure or whether you weigh me,
Be sure you won’t gain much by making me yours.
[The Green-clad One is taken ill, and is carried out by Troll-maids.
The Old Man.
[Looks at him for a while in high disdain; then says:]
Dash him to shards on the rock-walls, children!