I never meant you harm in any way.
See, I can say no more.
ELEANOR.
Will you not say you are not married to him?
ROSAMUND.
Ay, Madam, I can _say_ it, if you will.
ELEANOR.
Then is thy pretty boy a bastard?
ROSAMUND.
No.
ELEANOR.
And thou thyself a proven wanton?
ROSAMUND.
No.
I am none such. I never loved but one.
I have heard of such that range from love to love,
Like the wild beast--if you can call it love.
I have heard of such--yea, even among those
Who sit on thrones--I never saw any such,
Never knew any such, and howsoever
You do misname me, match'd with any such,
I am snow to mud.
ELEANOR.
The more the pity then
That thy true home--the heavens--cry out for thee
Who art too pure for earth.
_Enter_ FITZURSE.
FITZURSE.
Give her to me.
ELEANOR.
The Judas-lover of our passion-play
Hath track'd us hither.
FITZURSE.
Well, why not? I follow'd
You and the child: he babbled all the way.
Give her to me to make my honeymoon.
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