Second Sailor. What way can we raise a keen, not knowing what name to call him by?
First Sailor. Come on to his ship. His name will come to mind in a moment. All I know is he died a thousand years ago, and was never yet waked.
Second Sailor. How can we wake him having no ale?
First Sailor. I saw a skin of ale aboard her—a pigskin of brown ale.
Third Sailor. Come to the ale, a pigskin of brown ale, a goatskin of yellow.
First Sailor [singing]. Brown ale and yellow; yellow and brown ale; a goatskin of yellow.
All [singing]. Brown ale and yellow; yellow and brown ale!
[Sailors go out.
Dectora. Protect me now, gods, that my people swear by!
[AIBRIC has risen from the ground where he had fallen. He has begun looking for his sword as if in a dream.