TELL. I was sure he would.
VER. And looks with such relying love
And reverence upon you.
TELL. Man! man! man!
No more. Already I’m too much the father
To act the man. Verner, no more, my friend.
I would be flint--flint--flint. Don’t make me feel
I’m not. Do not mind me. Take the boy
And set him, Verner, with his back to me.
Set him upon his knees--and place this apple
Upon his head, so that the stem may front me,--
Thus, Verner; charge him to keep steady--tell him
I’ll hit the apple. Verner, do all this
More briefly than I tell it thee.