Gustaf. No, my right hand--on the condition that for the present
the left hand shall not know what the right is doing. Go to
Stockholm.

Olof. The Chapter will demand my surrender and ban me.

Gustaf. Before they get to that point you may fall back on me,
but until then--stand on your own feet as far as you can.

Olof. What is Your Highness' will?

Gustaf. Talk to those fanatics in Stockholm.

Olof. And then?

Gustaf. Oh, that's a long way off. I don't dare to think
so far yet.--Let them preach. It can't hurt those sottish
spirits to hear a new word, even if it he not all true. But
there must be no violence; for then the sword will join
in the game. Farewell, Olof! [Exit.]

Olof (alone). So the Emperor won't be friends with the Pope!

(The two scholars, who have been waiting among the trees in the
background, come forward.)

First Scholar. Shall we go on with the play, Master Olof?

Olof. No, children, there will be no more playing.