ALMACHILDES.

ALMACHILDES.

She bade me as a slave might bid the scourge Fall.

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

Such a scourge no slave might shrink from; nay, No free-born woman, Almachildes.

ALMACHILDES.

ALMACHILDES.

Queen, I crave thy queenly mercy though I say My maid, my bride that will be, shrank, and showed In all the rosebright anguish of her face A shuddering shame that wrung my heart. And thou Hast surely set thereon that seal of shame. I know it as thou dost.

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

Ay, and more she said, Surely: she said I would not yield her up To the arms of one my husband loves and holds Honoured at heart—I hate my husband so, She told thee—were the need avoidable Save by her sacrifice to shame.

ALMACHILDES.

ALMACHILDES.

Thou knowest All, as I knew, and lacked not from thy lips Confession.

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

Warrior though thou be, and boy Though my lord call thee, brainless art thou not— No sword with man’s face carven on the heft For mockery more than truth or help in fight. I do not and I durst not play with thee. Thy bride spake truth: I knew not she might need So much of truth to tempt thee toward her. Now Thou knowest, and I know. If this imminent night Make not thy darkling bride of her, by day Thy bride she may be never. She hath sworn.

ALMACHILDES.

ALMACHILDES.

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