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.