I can hardly imagine what it means to be beaten. I have beaten myself in order to see how one felt then in one's heart----It must be a gruesome feeling.

MELCHIOR.

I don't believe a child is better for it.

WENDLA.

Better for what?

MELCHIOR.

For being beaten.

WENDLA.

With this switch, for instance! Ha! but it's tough and thin.

MELCHIOR.

That would draw blood!

WENDLA.

Would you like to beat me with it once?

MELCHIOR.

Who?

WENDLA.

Me.

MELCHIOR.

What's the matter with you, Wendla?

WENDLA.

What might happen?

MELCHIOR.

Oh, be quiet! I won't beat you.

WENDLA.

Not if I allow you?

MELCHIOR.

No, girl!

WENDLA.

Not even if I ask you, Melchior?

MELCHIOR.

Are you out of your senses?

WENDLA.

I've never been beaten in my life!

MELCHIOR.

If you can ask for such a thing----

WENDLA.

Please----please----

MELCHIOR.

I'll teach you to say please! (_He hits her._)

WENDLA.

Oh, Lord, I don't notice it in the least!

MELCHIOR.

I believe you----through all your skirts----

WENDLA.

Then strike me on my legs!

MELCHIOR.

Wendla! (_He strikes her harder._)

WENDLA.

You're stroking me! You're stroking me!

MELCHIOR.