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King Skule.
Ha. [A short pause.] Tell me, Jatgeir, how came you to be a skald? Who taught you skaldcraft?
Jatgeir.
Skaldcraft cannot be taught, my lord.
King Skule.
Cannot be taught? How came it then?
Jatgeir.
The gift of sorrow came to me, and I was a skald.
King Skule.
Then 'tis the gift of sorrow the skald has need of?
Jatgeir.
I needed sorrow; others there may be who need faith, or joy—or doubt
King Skule.
Doubt as well?
Jatgeir.
Ay; but then must the doubter be strong and sound.
King Skule.
And whom call you the unsound doubter?
Jatgeir.
He who doubts of his own doubt.
King Skule.
[Slowly.] That, methinks, were death.
