ALBOVINE.
Surely, no.
I bade thee speak: I did not bid thee sing:
Thou canst not speak and sing not.
ROSAMUND.
Albovine,
I had at heart a simple thing to crave
And thought not on thy flatteries—as I think not
Now. Knowest thou not my handmaid Hildegard
Free-born, a noble maiden?
ALBOVINE.
And a fair
As ever shone like sundawn on the snows.
ROSAMUND.
I had at heart to plead for her with thee.
ALBOVINE.
Plead? hast thou found her noble maidenhood
Ignobly turned unmaidenlike? I may not
Lightly believe it.