Low treeless knolls under a towering waste of mountain; high peaks farther off. The shadows are lengthening; it is late in the day. PEER GYNT comes running full tilt and stops on the hillside.
PEER GYNT:
The whole parish is hot on my track,
Armed to the teeth with rifles and sticks!
Old Hegstad’s in front, you can hear him howl—
The news is out, Peer Gynt’s on the prowl!
This is no row with a blacksmith here!
This is life! I feel strong as a bear.
(Leaping in the air and lashing out.)
To crush, overthrow! Swim cataracts!
Smash! Rip fir trees up by the roots!
This is life! How it toughens and frees
The soul! To hell with those sickly lies!