His mother boxed his ears when his father was drunk!
[She trudges off into the thicket with The Brat, who throws the flagon at Peer Gynt.
Peer.
[After a long silence.]
The Boyg said, “Go roundabout!”—so one must here.—
There fell my fine palace, with crash and clatter!
There’s a wall around her whom I stood so near,
Of a sudden all’s ugly—my joy has grown old.—
Roundabout, lad! There’s no way to be found
Right through all this, from where you stand to her.