I could not say it.

ROSAMUND.

Thou shalt, or God shall smite thee down to hell.
What, art thou godless?

HILDEGARD.

Art not thou?

ROSAMUND.

Not I.
I find him just and gracious, girl: he gives me
My right by might set fast on thine and thee.

HILDEGARD.

For love of mercy, queen--for honour's sake,
Bid me not shame myself before a man -
The man I love--who gives me back at least
Honour, if love he gives not.

ROSAMUND.

Ay, my maid?
And yet he loves thee, or thy maiden thought
Errs with no gracious error, more than thou
Him?