ALBOVINE. ALBOVINE. And well were that, if summer died with June. Two red months more must set on sense and soul The branding-iron stamped of summer: nay, The sea is here no sea to cherish man: It brings no choral comfort back with tides That surge and sink and swell and chime and change And lighten life with music where the breath Dies and revives of night and day. ROSAMUND. ROSAMUND. Be thou Content: a God hath driven us hither. ALBOVINE. ALBOVINE. Yea: A God of death and fire and strife, whose hand Is heavy on my spirit. Be not ye Troubled, if peace be with you. ROSAMUND. ROSAMUND. Peace to thee. [Exit Albovine. Albovine Now follow: smite him now: thou art strong, but yet Thy king is stronger—mightier thewed than thou. Thou couldst not slay him in fight. ALMACHILDES. ALMACHILDES. I cannot slay him Thus. ROSAMUND. ROSAMUND.
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