Rosamund | Page 5

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 be, here. And yet For you it may be--Hildegard and thee. God give you joy.
ALMACHILDES.
God give thee comfort, king. [Exeunt.

ACT II

A room in the Queen's apartments.
Enter ROSAMUND.
ROSAMUND.
I am yet alive to question if I live And wonder what may ever bid me die. But live I will, being yet not dead with thee, Father. Thou knowest in Paradise my heart. I feel thy kisses breathing on my lips, Whereto the dead cold relic of thy face Was pressed at bidding of thy slayer last night, And yet they were not withered: nay, they are red As blood is--blood but newly spilt--not thine. How good thou wast and sweet of spirit--how dear, Father! None lives that knew thee now save one, And none loves me but thou nor thee but I, That was till yesternight thy daughter: now That very name is tainted, and my tongue Tastes poison as I speak it. There is nought Left in the range and record of the world For me that is not poisoned: even my heart Is all envenomed in me. Death is life, Or priesthood lies that swears it: then I give The man my husband and thy homicide Life, if I slay him--the life he gave thee.
Enter HILDEGARD.
Girl, I sent for thee, I think: stand near me. Child, Thou art fairer than thou knowest, I doubt: thou art fair As the awless maidenhood of morning: truth Should live upon thy lips, though truth were dead On all