Jatgeir—I got the gift of sorrow, and I was a skald.
King Skule—Then 'tis the gift of sorrow the skald has need of?
Jatgeir—I needed sorrow; others there may be who need faith, or joy—or doubt—
King Skule—Doubt, as well?
Jatgeir—Ay; but then must the doubter be strong and sound.
King Skule—And whom call you the unsound doubter?
Jatgeir—He who doubts his own doubt.
King Skule [slowly]—That, methinks, were death.
Jatgeir—'Tis worse; 'tis neither day nor night.
King Skule [quickly, as if shaking off his thoughts]—Where are my weapons? I will fight and act, not think. What was it you would have told me when you came?