Torre (after an effort)
Tell me the words.
Elaine
“Most noble Launcelot ... I was your lover, though you would not love me. (Torre forces himself to write.) You would not love me, and therefore I can endure no longer. I was called the Fair Maid of Astolat, and yet I was not loved. So I make my lament to all fair ladies and to the Queen Guenevere. Sir Launcelot, since you would not come to me, now come I to you. Bury this my body that is dead for love of you....”
Torre
Elaine, dear sister, do not speak so—you shall not die.
Elaine
It is not finished, Torre. Write.
Torre
No, no.