This page needs to be proofread.
Peter.
Think not of me; 'tis you alone that are to be thought of. Let us make for Indherred; there all men are true to you!
King Skule.
Ay, to flight! Follow me, whoso would save his life!
Bård Bratte.
What way?
King Skule.
Over the bridge!
Paul Flida.
All bridges are broken down, my lord.
King Skule.
Broken down! All the bridges broken, say you?
Paul Flida.
Had you broken them down at Oslo, you might have let them stand at Nidaros.
King Skule.
We must over the river none the less;—we have our lives and our souls to save! To flight! To flight!
[He and Peter rush out to the left.
Bård Bratte.
Ay, better so than to fall at the hands of the townfolk and the Birchlegs.
Paul Flida.
In God's name, then, to flight!
[All follow Skule.
