Summer and spring
May cleanse and heal the heart of man no more
Than winter may, or withering autumn. Sire,
Husband and lord, I have a woful word
To speak against a man beloved of thee,
A man well worth all glory man may give—
Against thine Almachildes.
ALBOVINE.
Has the boy
Transgressed again in awless heat of speech
And kindled wrath in thee against him—thee,
Who stood’st between my wrath and him?
ROSAMUND.
I would
His were no more transgression than of speech.
He hath wronged—I bid thee ask of me no more—
A noble maiden. Till her shame be healed,
Her name is dead upon my lips and his,
Who is yet not all ignoble.
ALBOVINE.
He shall die
Except he wed her, and she will to wed.
ROSAMUND.
That surely will she.
ALBOVINE.