Duke Skule.
[In uneasy agitation.] To unite the whole people—to awaken it so that it shall know itself one! Whence got you so strange a thought? It runs through me like ice and fire. [Vehemently.] It comes from the devil, Håkon; it shall never be carried through while I have strength to buckle on my helm.
Håkon.
’Tis from God the thought comes to me, and never shall I let it slip while I bear St. Olaf’s circlet on my brow!
Duke Skule.
Then must St. Olaf’s circlet fall from your brow!
Håkon.
Who will make it fall?
Duke Skule.
I, if none other.