Nay, let us welcome him, Love that can lift up a life from the
dead.
1. Keep him away from the lone little isle. Let us be, let us be.
2. Nay, let him make it his own, let him reign in it--he, it is he,
Love that is born of the deep coming up with the sun from the sea.
_Enter_ HENRY _and_ ROSAMUND.
ROSAMUND.
Be friends with him again--I do beseech thee.
HENRY.
With Becket? I have but one hour with thee--
Sceptre and crozier clashing, and the mitre
Grappling the crown--and when I flee from this
For a gasp of freer air, a breathing-while
To rest upon thy bosom and forget him--
Why thou, my bird, thou pipest Becket, Becket--
Yea, thou my golden dream of Love's own bower,
Must be the nightmare breaking on my peace
With 'Becket.'
ROSAMUND.
O my life's life, not to smile
Is all but death to me. My sun, no cloud!
Let there not be one frown in this one hour.
Out of the many thine, let this be mine!
Look rather thou all-royal as when first
I met thee.
HENRY.
Where was that?
ROSAMUND.
Forgetting that
Forgets me too.
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