Not she, I know it as sure as night is known from day And surelier than I know mine own soul’s truth, Spake what she spake in broken bursts of breath Out of her own heart and its love for me. ROSAMUND. Didst thou so answer her? ALMACHILDES. I might not well Answer at all. ROSAMUND. Poor maid, she hath loved amiss. Belike she thought to find in thee a man’s Love. ALMACHILDES. That she hath found; nought meaner than a man’s; No wolfish lust of ravenous insolence To soil and spoil her of her noblest name. ROSAMUND. I do not ask thee what she said. I know. ALMACHILDES. I knew thou didst. ROSAMUND. To make your bridal sure She bade thee make thy bride of her to-night. ALMACHILDES. She bade me as a slave might bid the scourge Fall. ROSAMUND. Such a scourge no slave might shrink from; nay, No free-born woman, 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. 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. Thou knowest All, as I knew, and lacked not from thy lips Confession. 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. Why wouldst thou shame her? ROSAMUND.