Antonius.  No, I can’t do that, Henrich!  I’m a good workman, and I’ve never learned to pass compliments.  I can only speak out straight and plain that I love his daughter and want her for my wife.

Henrich.  Nothing more?  Then I’ll risk my neck that you don’t get her.  At the very least you must start with “Whereas” or “Inasmuch.”  You must realize, Master Antonius, that you have to do with a learned man, who spends his days and nights in reading political works, till he’s on the verge of madness.  The one thing that he’s found fault with lately about the people in the house is that we have such vulgar ways with us all, and myself especially—­he never mentions me without calling me “You low, dirty rascal.”  A week or so ago he swore by the devil that Mother Geske should wear an Adrienne; still, he didn’t make any headway, because mistress is an old-fashioned God-fearing woman, who had rather lay down her life than part with her lapelled bodice.  He is always about to bring forth something or other, the devil knows what.  So if you wish to succeed in your wooing, you had better take my advice.

Antonius.  Well, on my word, I don’t believe in beating about the bush.  I go straight to the point. [Exit into house.

SCENE 3

Henrich.  The greatest difficulty about proposing is to hit on something to start off with.  I went courting once myself, but for two weeks I couldn’t make up my mind what to say.  I knew, of course, that you ought to begin with “Whereas” or “Inasmuch,” but the trouble was that I couldn’t pick out the next word to hitch on to that “Whereas.”  So I didn’t bother about it any longer, but went and bought a formula for eightpence from Jacob tke schoolmaster—­he sells them for that.  But it all went wrong with me, for when I got into the middle of my speech I couldn’t remember the rest of it, and I was ashamed to pull the paper out of my pocket.  I swear I could recite the thing both before and afterwards like my paternoster; yet when I came to use it I stuck fast.  It went like this: 

“With humble wishes for your good health, I, Henrich Andersen, have come here deliberately of my own free will and on my own initiative to inform you that I am no more of a stock and a stone than others, and inasmuch as every creature on earth, even the dumb brute, is subject to love, I, unworthy as I am, have come in the name of God and Honor to beg and urge you to be the darling of my heart—­” (To the audience) If any one will pay me back my eightpence, I will turn the thing over to him, for I believe that any one who made such a speech could get any good man’s daughter that he had a mind to.  Will you give me sixpence, then?  Honestly, I paid eightpence for it myself.  I’m damned if I sell it for less.  But here comes the old man.  I must be off. [Exit.

SCENE 4