Guinevere.
[With emotion.] Peace, my good Griflet! And you, gentlemen, forbear! I spake over hastily!
Sir Kay.
Peace, daffish knights! Pick up your gloves! See ye not that the Queen is distraught and clean out of her wits with anxiousness for the safety of the King?... Madam, you do ill to begrudge King Arthur his lone questings, sith all men of high courage find it merry to serve under a chieftain that will put his person in adventure as other poor knights do! [To this there is a general murmur of assent.] And now, as the tables have been spread this long while, for the third time of asking, will it pleasure you to sit down to supper?
[Another general murmur shows that this suggestion meets with favour.]
Guinevere.
Let those eat and drink who can! My heart is too heavy, but go you all, my lords and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen! Sit you down to meat and enjoy the feast! Later will I sup privily with my lord on his return!... As for you, worshipful knights, let me who provoked the quarrel between you heal it without the letting of good blood!
[Before the would-be combatants can prevent her she herself picks up and restores their thrown-down gloves. All do her fitting obeisance, and pass into the banqueting-hall with the exception of the Damosel and the Little Page.]
Sir Bleoberis.