NANNA. Savage, thou mean’st not sure—
HOTHER. Beware thee, Nanna!
NANNA. Oh, hear me—
HOTHER. I have seen. Go, hide thee, false one!
NANNA. Thou wilt not sure—
HOTHER. I will! And now, by Hothbrod,
He dieth by my hand!
BALDER. Presumptuous mortal!
HOTHER. Thy shield! thy spear! I hate all vaunt, my half-god.
NANNA (rushes towards BALDER, who taketh his weapons). O Balder! noble Balder!
BALDER. Ah, poor Nanna!
Thou see’st he forces me—that death he beggeth!