My blood must be upon your hands, for which I grieve, knowing that no other road is open to you.

Augusta, if it is worth anything to you, take my full forgiveness for the deed, and with it my thanks for all the goodness you have shown to me, but most for your woman's favour.

In after years, perhaps, when death draws near to you also, if ever you remember Olaf, your faithful servant, you will understand much it is not fitting that I should say.

Give me one moment to make my peace with Heaven as to certain kisses.

Then strike hard and swiftly, and, as you strike, scream for your guards and women.