How thou liest thou knowest not. Rosamund,
What hast thou done to be so beautiful?
ROSAMUND.
The sun has left thine eyes half blind.
ALBOVINE.
I dare not
Kiss thee, or stare straight-eyed against the sun.
ROSAMUND.
Kiss me. Who knows how long the lord of life
May spare us time for kissing? Life and love
Are less than change and death.
ALBOVINE.
What ghosts are they?
So sweet thou never wast to me before.
The woman that is God—the God that is
Woman—the sovereign of the soul of man,
Our fathers’ Freia, Venus crowned in Rome,
Has lent my love her girdle; but her lips
Have robbed the red rose of its heart, and left
No glory for the flower beyond all flowers
To bid the spring be glad of.
ROSAMUND.