Rosamund | Page 5

noble works, and love Whose light
is one with honour's.
ALMACHILDES.
Queen, may I Perchance not win it? I know not.
ROSAMUND.
Nay, nor I. Soon may we know; they are entering toward the feast. [The
curtain drawn discovers a banquet, with guests assembled: among them
NARSETES and HILDEGARD.
Re-enter ALBOVINE.
ALBOVINE.
Thine hand: I hold the whitest in the world. Sit thou, boy, there, beside
sweet Hildegard.
[They sit.
Bring me the cup. Queen, thou shalt pledge with me A health to all this
kingdom and its weal Even from the bowl that here to hold in hand
Assures me lord of Lombardy and thine By right and might of battle
and of God - The skull that was thy father's: so shalt thou Drink to me
with thy father.
ROSAMUND.
Sire, my lord, The life my sire, who gave thee up his life, Gave me, and

fostered till thou hadst given him death, Is all now thine. Thy will be
done. I drink To thee, who art all this kingdom and its weal, All health
and honour that of right should be, With all good things I wish thee.
[Drinks.
ALBOVINE.
Wish me well, And God must give me what thou wilt. Good friends,
My warriors and my brethren, hath not he Given me to wife the best
one born of man And loveliest, and most loving? Silent, sirs?
Wherefore?
ROSAMUND.
Thou shouldst not ask it. Bid the cup Go blithely round.
ALBOVINE.
By Christ and Thor, it shall. What ails the boy there? Almachildes!
ALMACHILDES.
King, Nought ails me.
ALBOVINE.
Nor thy maiden?
ALMACHILDES.
King, nor her.
ALBOVINE.
Fall then to feasting. Bear the cup away. Some savour of the dust of
death comes from it. Sweet, be not wroth nor sad.
ROSAMUND.
I am blithe and fain, Sire; and I loved thee never more than now.
ALBOVINE.
Nor ever I thee. Now I find thee mine, And now no daughter of mine
enemy's.
ROSAMUND.
No. Thou hast no enemy left on earth alive - No soul unslain that hates
thee.
ALBOVINE.
That were much. What man may say it? and least of all may kings.
ROSAMUND.
What hast thou done that man should hate thee--man Or woman?
ALBOVINE.
Which of us may answer, Nought?
ROSAMUND.

Thou might'st have made me--me, my father's child - Harlot and slave:
thou hast made me wife and queen.
ALBOVINE.
Thee have I loved; ay, and myself in thee, Who hast made me more
than king and lord, being thine.
ROSAMUND.
Courtesy sets on kings a goldener crown That sits upon them seemlier.
ALBOVINE.
Courtesy! Truth. Hark thee, boy, and let thy Hildegard Hearken. Is she,
thy queen, a peer of mine?
ALMACHILDES.
She wears no crown but heaven's about her head - No gold that was not
born upon her brows Transfigures or disfigures them. She is not A peer
of thine.
ROSAMUND.
He answers well.
ALBOVINE.
He answers Ill--as the spirit of shamelessness might speak.
ALMACHILDES.
Shameless are they that lie. I lie not.
ALBOVINE.
Boy, Tempt not the rod.
ALMACHILDES.
The rod that man may wield No man may fear: the slave who fears it is
not Man.
ALBOVINE.
Art thou crazed with wine?
ALMACHILDES.
Am I thy king?
ALBOVINE.
My thrall thou knowest thou art not, or thy tongue Durst challenge not
mine anger.
ROSAMUND.
Thrall and free, Woman and man, yea, queen and king, are born More
wide apart than earth or hell and heaven. Sirs, let no wrangling breath
distune the peace That shines and glows about us, and discerns A
banquet from a battle. Thou, my lord, Hast bidden away the dust of

death which fell Between us at thy bidding, and is now Nothing--a
dream blown out at waking. Thou, My lord's young chosen of warriors,
be not wroth, Albeit thy wrath be noble, though my lord See fit to try
my love as gold is tried By fire: it burns not thee. Strike hand in hand:
Ye have done so after battle.
ALBOVINE.
Drink again. I pledge thee, boy.
ALMACHILDES.
I pledge thee, king.
ROSAMUND.
My lord, I am weary at heart, and fain would sleep. Forgive me That I
can sit no more.
ALBOVINE.
What ails thee?
ROSAMUND.
Nought. The hot and heavy time of year has bound About my brows a
band of iron. Sire, Thou wouldst not see me sink aswoon, and mar The
raptures of thy revel.
ALBOVINE.
Get thee hence. Go. God be with thee.
ROSAMUND.
God abide with thee. [Exit with attendants.
ALBOVINE.
This is no feast: I will no more of it. Boy, Take note, and tempt not so
thy bride, albeit She tempt thee to the trial.
ALMACHILDES.
I shall not, king,
ALBOVINE.
She will not. Sirs, good night--if night may be Good. Hardly may the
day