HILDEGARD.

Queen, I know.

[Exit.

ALBOVINE.

ALBOVINE.

What ails the boy? what rapturous agony Torments and glorifies his glance at her As with delight in torture? Cheer thee, man: Thou art not thus all unworthy.

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

Spare him, king. A king may guess not how a man’s heart yearns With all unkingly sense of love and shame Not all unmanly.

ALBOVINE.

ALBOVINE.

Shame is none to be Loved, and to deem that love exceeds our due Who may not well deserve it. Sick at heart He seems, and should be gladder than the sea When wind and sun strike life in it.

ALMACHILDES.

ALMACHILDES.

I am not So stricken, king. I thank thy care of me.

ALBOVINE.

ALBOVINE.

Heart-stricken or shame-stricken art thou?

ROSAMUND.

ROSAMUND.

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