Queen, I would die to serve and thank thee.
ROSAMUND.
Die?
So young and glad and glorious? Thou shalt not
Die. Was thy bride’s face bright to look upon
When last night’s moon and stars illumined it?
ALMACHILDES.
Thou knowest I might not look upon it.
ROSAMUND.
No.
Thou hast never loved before?
ALMACHILDES.
I have loathed, not loved,
The loveless harlots clasped of all the camp:
I have followed wars and visions all my days
Even till my love’s eyes lit and stung to life
The soul within my body. Till I loved,
I knew not woman.
ROSAMUND.