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Bishop.] Peace and greeting, my honoured lord! I hear it goes ill with you.
Bishop Nicholas.
I am a corpse in the bud, good Duke; this night shall I break into bloom; to-morrow you may scent my perfume.
Duke Skule.
Already to-night, say you?
Bishop Nicholas.
Master Sigard says: within an hour.
Duke Skule.
And Trond the Priest's letter?
Bishop Nicholas.
Think you still upon that?
Duke Skule.
'Tis never out of my thoughts.
Bishop Nicholas.
The King has made you Duke; before you, no man in Norway has borne that title.
Duke Skule.
'Tis not enough. If Håkon be not the rightful king, then must I have all!
Bishop Nicholas.
Ha, 'tis cold in here; the blood runs icy through my limbs.
