Jacob.  I see that you can talk German.

Jeppe.  Yes, I have for a long time, but I don’t like to except when
I’m full.

Jacob.  Then you must speak it at least once a day.

Jeppe.  I was ten years m the militia, don’t you think I ought to understand the language?

Jacob.  I know, Jeppe!  We were in the same company for two years.

Jeppe.  So we were; I remember it now.  You were hanged once when you ran away at Vissmar.

Jacob.  I was going to be hanged, but I was pardoned.  A miss is as good as a mile.

Jeppe.  It’s too bad you weren’t hanged, Jacob!  But weren’t you with us at the auction on the heath—­you know the one?

Jacob.  Why, where wasn’t I with you?

Jeppe.  I never shall forget the first salt the Swedes made.  I think 3000 men—­or even 4000—­fell all at once.  Das ging fordeviled zu, Jacob!  Du kannst das wohl rememberen.  Ich kan nicht deny dass ich bange war at dat battle.

Jacob:  Yes, yes, death is hard to face; a man always feels pious when he goes against the enemy.

Jeppe.  Yes, that’s so.  I don’t know how it happens.  For I spent the whole night before the auction reading the Qualms of David.

Jacob.  I wonder that you, who have been a soldier, should let yourself be browbeaten by your wife.

Jeppe.  I?  If I only could have her here now, you’d see how I should drub her!  Another glass, Jacob!  I still have eightpence, and when that’s all drunk up I shall drink on credit.  Give me a mug of ale, too. (Sings.)

   In Leipzig war ein Mann,
   In Leipzig war ein Mann,
   In Leipzig war ein lederner Mann,
   In Leipzig war ein lederner Mann,
   In Leipzig war ein Mann.

   Der Mann sie nahm ein Frau—­

Jacob.  Your health, Jeppe!

Jeppe.  Hey! he—­y! he—­y!

   Here’s to you, and here’s to me,
   And here’s to all the company!

Jacob.  Won’t you drink the bailiff’s health?

Jeppe.  Sure enough; give me credit for another penny-worth.  The bailiff is an honest man; when we slip a rix-dollar into his fist, he’ll swear to his lordship that we can’t pay our rent.  Now I’m a villain if I have any more money; you must trust me for a farthing or two.

Jacob.  No, Jeppe, you can’t stand any more now.  I’m not the kind of man to let his patrons force themselves to drink more than is good for them.  I’d rather lose my trade than do that.  It would be a sin.

Jeppe.  Just another farthing’s worth!

Jacob.  No, Jeppe, you can’t have any more.  Just think what a long way you have to walk.

Jeppe.  Cur!  Carrion!  Beast!  Scoundrel!  Hey, hey, h—­e—­y!

Jacob.  Good-bye, Jeppe!  Good luck to you!