Arthur
So anchor faith in one another’s breast.
(Takes Launcelot’s hands.)
Guenevere, to these hands, these loyal hands,
That never in my battle failed me yet,
See, I commend you still. So, God be with you.
(Arthur goes out. A pause. Launcelot fights against the returning passion which he thought he had conquered.)
Guenevere
Do I grow old
And negligible? Ah, so long away