Rosamund | Page 9

earth no flower to worship.
ROSAMUND.
How should earth Worship her children? Nought it is in me, My lord's dear love it is, that makes me seem Fair.
ALBOVINE.
How thou liest thou knowest not. Rosamund, What hast thou done to be so beautiful?
ROSAMUND.
The sun has left thine eyes half blind.
ALBOVINE.
I dare not Kiss thee, or stare straight-eyed against the sun.
ROSAMUND.
Kiss me. Who knows how long the lord of life May spare us time for kissing? Life and love Are less than change and death.
ALBOVINE.
What ghosts are they? So sweet thou never wast to me before. The woman that is God--the God that is Woman--the sovereign of the soul of man, Our fathers' Freia, Venus crowned in Rome, Has lent my love her girdle; but her lips Have robbed the red rose of its heart, and left No glory for the flower beyond all flowers To bid the spring be glad of.
ROSAMUND.
Summer and spring May cleanse and heal the heart of man no more Than winter may, or withering autumn. Sire, Husband and lord, I have a woful word To speak against a man beloved of thee, A man well worth all glory man may give - Against thine Almachildes.
ALBOVINE.
Has the boy Transgressed again in awless heat of speech And kindled wrath in thee against him--thee, Who stood'st between my wrath and him?
ROSAMUND
I would His were no more transgression than of speech. He hath wronged--I bid thee ask of me no more - A noble maiden. Till her shame be healed, Her name is dead upon my lips and his, Who is yet not all ignoble.
ALBOVINE.
He shall die Except he wed her, and she will to wed.
ROSAMUND.
That surely will she.
ALBOVINE.
Bid him hither.
ROSAMUND.
See, There strides he through the sunshine toward the shade. How light and high he steps! He sees thee. Bid him - Beckon him in.
ALBOVINE.
He knows mine eye. He comes.
ROSAMUND.
Obedient as a hound is.
ALBOVINE.
As a man That knows the law of loyal manhood.
ROSAMUND.
Ay? God send it be so.
Enter ALMACHILDES.
ALMACHILDES.
Queen and king, I am here. What would you?
ALBOVINE.
Truth. Hast thou not borne thyself Toward any soul on earth disloyally Ever?
ALMACHILDES.
Never.
ALBOVINE.
I would not say thou liest.
ALMACHILDES.
Do not: the lie should burn thy lips up, king.
ALBOVINE.
Thou hast wrought no wrong toward man or woman?
ALMACHILDES.
None.
ALBOVINE.
Speak thou: thou hast heard him answer me.
ROSAMUND.
I have heard. No wrong it may be with the serfs of hell To cast upon a woman for a curse Shame: to defile the spirit and shrine of love, Put out the sunlike eyes of maidenhood And leave the soul dismantled. Has not he So sinned?--Hast thou wrought no such work as this? The king has heard thy silence.
ALMACHILDES.
Queen and king, I have done no wrong, but right. I have chosen my bride, And made her mine by gentle grace of hers Lest wrong should come between us. Now no man May think to unwed us: king nor queen may cross This wedded love of ours: no thwart or stay May sunder us till heaven and earth turn hell.
ALBOVINE.
I deemed not thee dishonourable: and thy queen Now knows thee true as I did. Rosamund, Forgive and give him back his bride.
ROSAMUND.
I will, King.
ALBOVINE.
Boy, thy queen hath shown thee grace; be thou Thankful. I leave thee here to yield her thanks. [Exit.
ALMACHILDES.
Queen, I would die to serve and thank thee.
ROSAMUND.
Die? So young and glad and glorious? Thou shalt not Die. Was thy bride's face bright to look upon When last night's moon and stars illumined it?
ALMACHILDES.
Thou knowest I might not look upon it.
ROSAMUND.
No. Thou hast never loved before?
ALMACHILDES.
I have loathed, not loved, The loveless harlots clasped of all the camp: I have followed wars and visions all my days Even till my love's eyes lit and stung to life The soul within my body. Till I loved, I knew not woman.
ROSAMUND.
Now thou knowest. This love Is no good lord--no gentle god--no soft Saviour. Thou knowest perchance thy bride's name--hers Whose body and soul were one but now with thine?
ALMACHILDES.
How should not I? What darkling light is this That burns and broods and lightens in thine eyes, Queen?
ROSAMUND.
Hildegard it was not.
ALMACHILDES.
Art not thou - Or am not I--sun-smitten through the brain By this mad might of midsummer? Who was it That slept or slept not with me while the night Was more than noon and more than heaven? What name Was hers who made me godlike?
ROSAMUND.
Rosamund.
ALMACHILDES.
Thine? was it thou? It was not.
ROSAMUND.
It was I.
ALMACHILDES.
Does the sun stand in heaven? Or stands it fast As when God bade it halt on high? My life Is broken in me.
ROSAMUND.
Nay, fair sir, not yet. Thy life is now mine--as the ring I wear That seals my hand a wife's. Die thou shalt not, But slay, and live.
ALMACHILDES.
Slay whom?
ROSAMUND.
Thy lord and mine.
ALMACHILDES.
I had rather go down quick to hell.
ROSAMUND.
I know it. I leave thee not the choice. Keep thou thy hand