Girl, I sent for thee, I think: stand near me. Child, Thou art fairer than thou knowest, I doubt: thou art fair As the awless maidenhood of morning: truth Should live upon thy lips, though truth were dead On all men’s tongues and women’s born save thine. Dawn lies not when it laughs on us. Thy queen I am not now: thy friend I would be. Tell Thy friend if love sleep or awake in thee Toward any man. Thou art silent. Tell me this, Dost thou not think, where thought scarce knows itself— Think in the subtle sense too deep for thought— That Almachildes loves thee? HILDEGARD. More than I Love Almachildes. ROSAMUND. Thus a maid should speak. Dost thou love me? HILDEGARD. Thou knowest it, queen. ROSAMUND. It lies Now in thy power to show me more of love Than ever yet hath man or woman. Swear, If thou dost love me, thou wilt show it. HILDEGARD. I swear. ROSAMUND. By all our fathers’ great forsaken gods Who smiled on all their battles, and by him Who clomb or crept or leapt upon their throne And signed us Christian, swear it, then. HILDEGARD. I swear. ROSAMUND. What if I bid thee give thyself to shame— Yield up thy soul and body—play such parts As shameless fame records of women crowned Imperial in the tale of lust and Rome? HILDEGARD. Thou couldst not bid me do it. ROSAMUND. Thou hast sworn. HILDEGARD. I have sworn. Queen, I would do it, and die. ROSAMUND. Thou shalt not. Yet This must thou do, and live. Thou shalt not be Shamed. Thou shalt bid thine Almachildes come And speak with thee by nightfall. Say, the queen Will give not up the maiden so beloved —And truth it is, I love thee—willingly To the arms of one her husband loves: but were it Shame, utter shame, that he should wed not her, The shamefast queen could choose not. Then shall he Plead. Then shalt thou turn gentler than the snow That softens at the strong sun’s kiss, and yield. But needs must night be close about your love And darkness whet your kisses. Light were death. Hast thou no heart to guess now? Fear not then. Not thou but I must put on shame. I lack A hand for mine to grasp and strike with. His I have chosen. HILDEGARD. I see but as by lightning. Queen, What should I do but warn the king—or him? ROSAMUND. Thou hast sworn. I hold thee by thy word. HILDEGARD. My Christ, Help me!