Lisbed. If that is all, father dear, we can still make everything right.

Jeronimus.  Keep away from him, I tell you.

Magdelone.  What does this mean, Mr. Bailiff?

Jesper.  It’s a bad business, Madame.  He introduces false doctrine into this village, saying that the earth is round, and other things of such a nature that I should blush to mention them.

Jeronimus.  Don’t you think that the good old parents are to be pitied who have spent so much money on him?

Magdelone.  Oh, is that all?  If he loves our daughter, he will give up his opinion and say that the earth is flat, for her sake.

Lisbed. Oh, my dear, for my sake say that it is flat!

Montanus.  I cannot humor you in this, so long as I am in full possession of my reason.  I cannot give the earth another shape from what it has by nature.  For your sake I will say and do whatever is possible for me; but in this one thing I can never humor you, for if the brothers in my order should find out that I had given expression to such an opinion, I should be thought a fool, and despised.  Besides, we learned folk never give up our opinions, but defend what we have once said to the uttermost drop of our inkhorns.

Magdelone.  See here, husband, I don’t think it matters so much that we should break off the match on that account.

Jeronimus.  And merely on that account I should try to have them divorced even if they had been actually married.

MAGEDELONE.  You had better believe I have something to say in this matter, too; for if she is your daughter, she is mine as well.

Lisbed (weeping).  Oh, my dear, do say that it is flat.

Montanus.  Profecto, I really cannot.

Jeronimus.  Listen, wife:  you must know that I am the head of the house, and that I am her father.

Magdelone.  You must also know that I am the mistress of the house, and that I am her mother.

Jeronimus.  I say that a father is always more than a mother.

Magdelone, And I say not, for there can be no doubt that I am her mother, but whether you—­I had better not say any more, for I am getting excited.

Lisbed (weeping).  Oh, my heart, can’t you say just for my sake that it is flat?

Montanus.  I cannot, my doll, nam contra naturam est.

Jeronimus.  What did you mean by that, my wife?  Am I not her father as surely as you are her mother?—­Listen, Lisbed, am I not your father?

Lisbed. I think so, for my mother says so; but I know that she is my mother.

Jeronimus.  What do you think of this talk, Mr. Bailiff: 

Jesper.  I can’t say that Mamselle is wrong in this matter, for—­

Jeronimus.  That is enough.  Come, let us go—­you may be sure, my good Rasmus Berg, that you will never get my daughter so long as you cling to your delusions.