Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/115



Nine-tenths of it is now the word.

Not all?

Not all.

As you have heard:— Nor priest shall come, nor sacrament.

She begg'd it, bitterly distress'd

Priest, once she bore you on her breast

[Clenching his hands.]

I may not by two measures weigh My kinsman and my enemy.

Sore is her state and dire her need; Come, or else send her a God-speed

[To .]

Go; tell her still: God's wine and bread Must on a spotless board be spread.

[The Men go.

I tremble Brand. You seem a Sword Swung flaming by a wrathful Lord!