Paul Flida.
[In deep and sorrowful wrath.] To hear you speak thus, a man could not but ask: Who is king in this land?
King Skule.
[Smiling mournfully.] Ay, Paul Flida, that is the great question: Who is king in this land?
Paul Flida.
[Imploringly.] You are soul-sick to-night, my lord; let me act for you.
King Skule.
Ay, ay, do so.
Paul Flida.
[Going.] First will I break down all the bridges.