ROSAMUND.

Thou shalt not. Yet This must thou do, and live. Thou shalt not be Shamed. Thou shalt bid thine Almachildes come And speak with thee by nightfall. Say, the queen Will give not up the maiden so beloved —And truth it is, I love thee—willingly To the arms of one her husband loves: but were it Shame, utter shame, that he should wed not her, The shamefast queen could choose not. Then shall he Plead. Then shalt thou turn gentler than the snow That softens at the strong sun’s kiss, and yield. But needs must night be close about your love And darkness whet your kisses. Light were death. Hast thou no heart to guess now? Fear not then. Not thou but I must put on shame. I lack A hand for mine to grasp and strike with. His I have chosen.

HILDEGARD.

HILDEGARD.

I see but as by lightning. Queen, What should I do but warn the king—or him?

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

Thou hast sworn. I hold thee by thy word.

HILDEGARD.

HILDEGARD.

My Christ, Help me!

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

No God can break thine oath in twain And leave thee less than perjured. Thou must bid him Make thee to-night his bride.

HILDEGARD.

HILDEGARD.

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