And canst thou wonder when so great an Asa
As Odin's Balder cometh unexpected,
That I all trembling will conceal--

HOTHER. Ha, trembling!
My curse upon the slave who first invented
A word which ne'er my Nanna's lips should sully;
Thy excusations kill me! I imagined
It was a chaste, a maidenish reflection,
That made my Nanna blush at our affection:
Unmurmuring I obeyed, and kept in secret.
Why hast thou ta'en from me that sweet delusion?
Why spak'st thou not, and say for whom thou tremblest?
For Balder's death? Thou lovest then thy half-god.
But no, ye gods! No, I believe thee, Nanna!
It is for mine, for Hother's death, thou fearest.
Then think'st thou me so weak, so wholly powerless,
And lov'st me still? When e'er lov'd maids the dastard?

NANNA. 'Tis no disgrace to quake before a half-god!

HOTHER. 'Fore Odin's self mere cowards quake. Now hear me!
I--I, or Balder, die to-day!

NANNA. O Hother!
I came to quarrel, came prepar'd with anger;
But ah, in burning tears it soon has melted.
Thou die, or Balder! he--a half-god!

HOTHER. Nanna!