Launcelot, we celebrate a joust to-morrow
In honour of this victory we have won;
And you must ride in it: for we were mourning
That it should lack the star of all my knights.
The Marshals wait me. But my Queen, no word?
Welcome him, Guenevere. Give me your hand.
(Takes Guenevere’s hand in his.)
Launcelot, it was you that long ago
Saved my Queen for me, when proud Orkney’s King
Had taken her, trapped and captive, to his tower.