Julie. You’re talking as though you were already my superior.
John. I am; look here, I could change you into a countess, but you could never make me into a count!
Julie. But I am bred from a count, and that you can never be.
John. That’s true, but I could produce counts myself if—
Julie. But you’re a thief, and I’m not.
John. There are worse things than being a thief; that’s not the worst, besides, if I’m serving in a household, I look upon myself in a manner of speaking as one of the family, as a child of the house, and it isn’t regarded as stealing if a child picks a berry from a large bunch. [His passion wakes up afresh.] Miss Julie, you’re a magnificent woman, much too good for the likes of me. You’ve been the prey of a mad fit and you want to cover up your mistake, and that’s why you’ve got it into your head you love me, but you don’t. Of course, it may be that only my personal charms attract you—and in that case your love is not a bit better than mine; but I can never be satisfied with being nothing more to you than a mere beast, and I can’t get your love.
Julie. Are you sure of it?
John. You mean it might come about? I might love you? Yes, no doubt about it, you’re pretty, you’re refined. [He> approaches her and takes her hand.] Nice, when you want to be, and when you have roused desire in a man the odds are that it will never be extinguished. [He embraces her.] You are like burning wine, with strong herbs in it, and a kiss from you [He tries to lead her on to the left, but she struggles free.]
Julie. Let me alone! That’s not the way to win me!
John. In what way then? Not in that way? Not with caresses and pretty words—not with forethought for the future, escape from disgrace? In what way then?