Ottar. Thou gorging maw!
The Second. Thieves! Flayers!
Ottar. Dog! I'll strike thee dead!
Sköll. Be quiet, fools, there is plenty more! Go look in the tower, and you may curse me for a knave if you find the mouse-hole empty.
The First. Come.
The Two Others. Yes, come! [The three go into the tower.]
Sköll. Thou dost not go along?
Ottar. Thou hadst gladly got us out of the way to dig all by thyself? O, we all know thee, thou filthy fool!
Sköll [slapping him on the back]. More pretty words, my friend? Go on! When we are our own men on shore again, I will see what I can do;--but till that time I spare my skin.
[The three come reeling backwards out of the tower, followed by the Burial-wife with raised fist.]