Albovine 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. 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. 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. ROSAMUND. Thou shouldst not ask it. Bid the cup Go blithely round. ALBOVINE. ALBOVINE.
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