THOR. Ha! Balder, dost thou mock me? Whom? What Hother?
BALDER. Hast Thor forgotten then the valiant Leir-King?
THOR (in thought). No!—by my hammer, no!—I saw him battle
At Rolf, the Daneman’s festival; I saw him,
Strong in his arm.
BALDER. But yet it lost the falchion.
THOR (yet in thought). Before his spear the copper hauberk yielded
Like softest wax. Shall he—But scarce a mortal
Avails thereto—But then if fate—
BALDER. Banish, oh banish,
These murky thoughts, oh Thor! and share my pleasure.
THOR. Thy pleasure! Do I dream? Loves Nanna, Hother?
BALDER. Ay, doth she!
THOR. That rejoices thee? Thou ravest.
BALDER. Ah hear!—my joy thou wilt thyself approve of.