[He lifts his sword like one who will strike.
HOTHER. Why dost delay?
NANNA. Ha! here thou savage!
Here, strike into this breast and spare my bridegroom.
[BALDER lets his sword sink.
HOTHER. Still, still, thou lovest me? Oh, Nanna! Nanna!
There see’st thou, fiend, she loveth me!
BALDER. Ah, torment!
Ha! I can end thee! [He lifts his sword again.
NANNA. Let my tears prevent thee!
HOTHER. By heavens! she’s mocking thee! If thou delayest,
She’ll laugh full at thee in the arms of Hother.
NANNA. Believe him not, but virtue—thine own bosom!
BALDER (sheathing his sword). Live, Hother! live!