[Calls after the Man in Mourning.]
Mother that’s dead
Will be after you, Aslak, if you wet your whistle.
Peer.
[Rises.]
The husbandman’s saying seems scarce to hold here:
The deeper one harrows the better it smells.
A Lad.
[With a bear’s skin.]
Look, the cat of the Dovrë![[119]] Well, only his fell.