Peter.
[In dread.] My great, my noble father, speak not thus!
King Skule.
The king's-thought is Håkon's, not mine; to him alone has the Lord granted the power that can act it out. You have believed in a lie; turn from me, and save your soul.
Peter.
[In a broken voice.] The king's-thought is Håkon's!
King Skule.
I yearned to be the greatest in the land. My God! my God! behold, I abase myself before thee, and stand as the least of all men.
Peter.
Take me from the earth, O Lord! Punish me for all my sin; but take me from the earth; for here am I homeless now!
[Sinks down upon the church steps.
King Skule.
I had a friend who bled for me at Oslo. He said: A man can die for another's life-work; but if he is to go on living, he must live for his own.—I have no life-work to live for, neither can I live for Håkon's,—but I can die for it.
Margrete.
Nay, nay, that shall you never do!
King Skule.
[Takes her hand, and looks at her tenderly.] Do you love your husband, Margrete?
