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Gert. Guide it, you fool--for we are the stream. The old are stagnant mudpools, you don't need to check them, but don't let them rot away or dry up; give them an outlet, and they'll flow with the stream, too.
Olof. Yes, I understand you! You have bred a thought in my soul, but that thought must be strangled in its birth, or it will kill me.
Gert. Believe me, you will be a Daniel, and you will speak the truth unto princes, and they will conspire to take your life; but the Lord will protect you.--Now I can safely leave, for I see lightnings flash from your eyes and tongues of fire flickering over your head. (As he is leaving.) There comes the Lord of Flies: don't let him defile your pure soul also.
Olof. Jesus help me!
[Enter Bishop Brask and Bishop Sommar. Sommar approaches Olof, while Brask remains behind, studying the surroundings.]
Sommar. Who rang vespers, Canonicus?
Olof (calmly but firmly). I did.
Sommar. Didn't you know the order?
Olof. I was aware of the prohibition.
Sommar. And you dared to defy it?
Olof. Yes, when the people were let go like sheep without a shepherd, I wanted to keep them together.
Sommar. You seem to be finding fault with our actions. That's impudence indeed.
Olof. Truth is always impudent.
Sommar. I believe, young man, that you want to play the part of an apostle of truth. It will bring you no thanks.
Olof. All I ask is ingrat.i.tude.
Sommar. Save your truths. They don't retain their value in the market very long.
Olof (impetuously). That's advice worthy of the Father of Lies!--(Mildly.) I ask your pardon!
Sommar. Do you know to whom you are talking?
Olof (heatedly). To servus servi servorum Mns Sommar!
Brask (stepping forward). Who is this man?
Sommar. One of the attendants in the church.
Brask. What's his name?
Sommar. Olof Pedersson, alias Olaus Petri.
Brask (staring hard at Olof). So you are Master Olof? (Olof bows and looks fixedly at Brask.) I like you. Would you care to become my secretary?
Olof. Many thanks, Your Grace, but I have no recommendations.
Brask. What have you to say, Bishop Mns?
Sommar. He is said to have found much favor with Dr. Luther.
Brask. So I've heard. Nothing but youthful spirits. We'll train him.
Olof. I fear it is too late!
Brask. A sapling can be bent.
Sommar. It is not wise to raise vipers, Your Grace. Our canonicus here has strong leanings toward heresy, and to-day he has dared to defy our orders.
Brask. Is that so?
Sommar. On fully legal grounds we have proclaimed an interdict, and this man has ventured to say ma.s.s--worse than that, he has said a Lutheran ma.s.s, and thus stirred up the people.
Brask. Take care, young man! Don't you know that the ban will fall on anybody who proclaims Luther?
Olof. I know it, but I fear no other G.o.d than G.o.d.
Brask. Consider your words. I mean well by you, and you repel me.
Olof. You want to purchase my ability for the doctoring of your sick cause, and I am shameless enough not to sell myself.
Brask. By Saint George, I think you are out of your senses!
Olof. If so, don't give me the same treatment as Gert the Printer. You put him in a madhouse, and it made him too wise, I fear.
Brask (to Bishop Sommar). Do you know Gert?
Sommar. No, Your Grace.
Brask. He's a lunatic who used my press to print Lutheran writings in place of the anti-Lutheran stuff I put into his hands. Moreover, he was dreaming of the Apocalypse and the Millennium. (To Olof.) Have you seen him?
Olof. He was here awhile ago, and you can expect but little good of him.
Brask. Is he at large?
Olof. He'll be in Stockholm soon, and from there you'll hear of him, I think. Take care, my Lord Bishop!
Brask. Ho, there is nothing to fear yet.
Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm.
Brask. What do you say?
Olof. The Anabaptists are in Stockholm!
Brask. The Anabaptists?