SOLVEIG:
Leave me in peace.
PEER GYNT:
No. (In a low, bitter, intimidating voice.)
I can turn myself into a troll.
I’ll come to your bed at midnight, I will.
If you hear something that hisses and grunts,
It’s me, child! I’ll drain off your blood in a cup;
And your litte sister—I’ll eat her up;
Because, you know—I’m a werewolf at night—
I’ll bite you all over the loins and back—
(Suddenly changes his tone and begs, as if in anguish.)
Dance with me, Solveig!