HENRY. It is, my boy, to side with the King when Chancellor, and then to be made Archbishop and go against the King who made him, and turn the world upside down. GEOFFREY. I won't have it then. Nay, but give it me, and I promise thee not to turn the world upside down. HENRY (_giving him a ball_). Here is a ball, my boy, thy world, to turn anyway and play with as thou wilt--which is more than I can do with mine. Go try it, play. [_Exit_ GEOFFREY. A pretty lusty boy. ROSAMUND. So like to thee; Like to be liker. HENRY. Not in my chin, I hope! That threatens double. ROSAMUND. Thou art manlike perfect. HENRY. Ay, ay, no doubt; and were I humpt behind, Thou'dst say as much--the goodly way of women Who love, for which I love them. May God grant No ill befall or him or thee when I Am gone. ROSAMUND. Is _he_ thy enemy? HENRY. He? who? ay! ROSAMUND. Thine enemy knows the secret of my bower. HENRY. And I could tear him asunder with wild horses Before he would betray it. Nay--no fear! More like is he to excommunicate me. ROSAMUND. And I would creep, crawl over knife-edge flint Barefoot, a hundred leagues, to stay his hand Before he flash'd the bolt. HENRY. And when he flash'd it Shrink from me, like a daughter of the Church. ROSAMUND. Ay, but he will not. HENRY. Ay! but if he did? ROSAMUND. O then! O then! I almost fear to say That my poor heretic heart would excommunicate His excommunication, clinging to thee Closer than ever. HENRY (_raising_ ROSAMUND _and kissing her_). My brave-hearted Rose! Hath he ever been to see thee? ROSAMUND Here? not he. And it is so lonely here--no confessor. HENRY. Thou shall confess all thy sweet sins to me. ROSAMUND. Besides, we came away in such a heat, I brought not ev'n my crucifix. HENRY. Take this. [_Giving her the Crucifix which_ ELEANOR _gave him_. ROSAMUND. O beautiful! May I have it as mine, till mine Be mine again? HENRY (_throwing it round her neck_). Thine--as I am--till death! ROSAMUND. Death? no! I'll have it with me in my shroud, And wake with it, and show it to all the Saints. HENRY. Nay--I must go; but when thou layest thy lip To this, remembering One who died for thee, Remember also one who lives for thee Out there in France; for I must hence to brave The Pope, King Louis, and this turbulent priest. ROSAMUND (_kneeling_). O by thy love for me, all mine for thee, Fling not thy soul into the flames of hell: I kneel to thee--be friends with him again. HENRY. Look, look! if little Geoffrey have not tost His ball into the brook! makes after it too To find it. Why, the child will drown himself. ROSAMUND. Geoffrey! Geoffrey! [_Exeunt_.