Guinevere.
Come, then, relate your adventure! But you must be a-hungered and athirst!... Let make a banquet of royalness as great as may be, in honour of my Lord’s return! [Going toward the banquet-hall.]
Arthur.
[Detaining her.] Stay! This is no time for feastings! [This announcement causes a sensation.] Bring me a little deal of water, for my tongue is parched! [He drains the cup which is brought to him, while all look on, struck from his far from joyous tone.]
Sir Bleoberis.
[To Sir Bors.] What ails the King? Think you he has been mischieved in some sort?
Sir Bors.
Truly his countenance is heavy as did he see himself like to be soonly in checkmate!
Arthur.