Henrik Ibsen

Love's Comedy Henrik Ibsen

GULDSTAD [to FALK]. One thing at least to me is very clear;- And this is that you cannot but allow Some forethought indispensable. For see, Suppose that you to-day should write a sonnet, And, scorning forethought, you should lavish on it Your last reserve, your all, of poetry, So that, to-morrow, when you set about Your next song, you should find yourself cleaned out, Heavens! how your friends the critics then would crow! FALK. D'you think they'd notice I was bankrupt? No! Once beggared of ideas, I and they Would saunter arm in arm the selfsame way- [Breaking off. But Lind! why, what's the matter with you, pray? You sit there dumb and dreaming-I suspect you're Deep in the mysteries of architecture