Man from Småland. I'll drink your corn-juice, but when it comes to the King's health, I do like this! (He crushes the tin cup and throws it on the floor.)
Windrank (groping with one hand for his sheath knife.) You won't drink the King's health?
Man from Småland. I've been drinking the cup he offered me so long that I don't care to drink his health any longer.
Windrank. 'Sblood!
German (eagerly). Hush, hush! Let's hear what he's got to say.
Dane (in the same way). Mercy, yes!
A Man from Småland. The Lord help me when I get home again!
Windrank (sentimentally). What is it, my dear man? Why do you look so sad? Do you need money? Look here, now! (He pulls out his purse.) I've half my wages left. What's the matter with you?
Man from Småland. Don't let us talk about it. More gin! Gin here! I've money, too. Do you see? Gold! (The liquor is served). It isn't mine, but I'll spend it on drink to the last farthing, and you'll please help me.
Windrank. And yet it isn't your money—how can you do that?