Håkon.
For you 'tis impossible, for you can but work out the old saga afresh; for me, 'tis as easy as for the falcon to cleave the clouds.
Duke Skule.
[In uneasy agitation.] To unite the whole people—to awaken it so that it shall know itself <g>one</g>! Whence got you so strange a thought? It runs through me like ice and fire. [Vehemently.] It comes from the devil, Håkon; it shall never be carried through while I have strength to buckle on my helm.
Håkon.
'Tis from God the thought comes to me, and never shall I let it slip while I bear St. Olaf's circlet on my brow!
Duke Skule.
Then must St. Olaf's circlet fall from your brow!
Håkon.
Who will make it fall?
Duke Skule.
I, if none other.
Håkon.
You, Skule, will be harmless after to-morrow's Assembly.
Duke Skule.
Håkon! Tempt not God! Drive me not out upon the last ledge of the deep!
Håkon.
[Points to the door.] Go, my lord—and be it
