ROSAMUND. King, henceforth, Being warned, I will not. Dangerous as the sea A true man’s wrath is—and a true man’s love: A woman’s hath no peril in it: her tears Wash wrath and peril away. ALBOVINE. I have never seen thee Weep. ROSAMUND. How should I weep—I, thy wife? ALBOVINE. I have heard thee Laugh; and thy smiles were always bright as fire. ROSAMUND. Well were it with me—ay, and reason found For me to live and do the living world Some service—could my husband warm thereat His heart as winter-stricken hands in frost Are warmed at winter fires. ALBOVINE. No need, no need: The sun thou art warms all our year with love, And leaves no chill on winter. ROSAMUND. Albovine, Love now secludes us not from sight of man— From sight of this my maiden and the man Who shines but as the battle’s boy for thee But lives for me my maiden’s lover—true As truth is—Almachildes. ALBOVINE. How thy lips Hang lingering on his name as though ’twere thou That loved him! Thou shouldst love thy maiden well. ROSAMUND. As she loves me I love her. Hildegard, Leave us. Thou knowest I love thee. HILDEGARD. Queen, I know. [_Exit_. 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. 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. 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. I am not So stricken, king. I thank thy care of me. ALBOVINE. Heart-stricken or shame-stricken art thou? ROSAMUND. King, Spare him. Thou knowest not love like his. It burns And rends and wrings the spirit. ALBOVINE. No. And thou, Dost thou then? ROSAMUND.