Launcelot’s manhood pulls on this side, Hell on that.
(Braces himself and gives one terrible tug, then falls back fainting.)
Elaine. ’Tis he! (Rushes out and falls fainting on his breast. The Queen’s women lift her and bear her out.)
Guin. Great Heaven!
Arthur. ’Tis enough! away with it, Maiden, thy magic hath outdone our noblest worth.
Vivien. (Scornfully.) Is there no pure man will make trial?
Gwaine. (Emerges from the throng still dressed in scullions dress.)
Yea, I will try, although I rend the stone.
(Leaps on to the stone and plucks the sword out with both hands, with a great pull, and waves it aloft with an exultant shout. The throng starts back.)