And were Launcelot evil, the Heavens would distil poison.
Guin. Yea, my lord, but thou forgettest the tourney.
Arthur. Heralds have been sent out and from all parts of the kingdom.
Jousts are invited, with strange and wondrous tests.
Re-enter Gwaine.
Gwaine. Well, what next?
Arthur. Sirrah! the Queen!
Gwaine. (Doffs his cap.) Morrow, Madam.
Arthur. To your knees! by my blade, to your knees!
Gwaine. By my legs, I am no lick-spittle to claw the earth.