Peter.
Then neither can you give away the kingdom; for it is mine after you!
King Skule.
Now I will come!
Paul Flida.
God be praised!
King Skule.
[Comes forward in the doorway; he is pale and haggard; his hair has grown very grey.] You shall not look at me! I will not have you look at me now that I am sick! [Goes up to Peter.] Take from you the kingdom, you say? Great God in heaven, what was I about to do!
Peter.
Oh, forgive me;—I know that what you do is ever the right.
King Skule.
No, no, not hitherto; but now I will be strong and sound—I will act!
Loud Shouts.
[Without, on the right.] King Skule! King Skule!
King Skule.
What is that?
Bård Bratte.
[At the window.] The townsmen are flocking together; the whole courtyard is full of people;—you must speak to them.
King Skule.
Do I look like a king? Can I speak now?
