ARTHUR
A TRAGEDY

ARTHUR A TRAGEDY

BY LAURENCE BINYON

BOSTON
SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1923
By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
(Incorporated)

Printed in the United States of America

THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY
CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

BINDING BY
THE BOSTON BOOKBINDING COMPANY
CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

TO
SIR JOHN AND LADY MARTIN HARVEY

With what names should I inscribe this play but with yours? Yet what right have I to dedicate to you what is already so much your own? Memory goes back to that June day, now long ago, when first I undertook to write for you a play out of Malory’s pages on a theme long pondered by you both. And many days come back to me, in London or by the sunny Channel, when time was forgotten in ardent work and interchange of ideas; in thinking out and talking over crucial situations; in rejecting and recasting; in the search for essential structure. How much the play owes to you, both in framework and in detail, none knows so well as I. Give me leave, therefore, to write these words in grateful acknowledgment of that initial trust, of much fruitful suggestion and inspiriting counsel, and of all I have learnt from you of the playwright’s patient craft.

LAURENCE BINYON.

CONTENTS

CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

A banner-bearer, priests, esquires, men-at-arms, soldiers, ladies of the Court, etc.

ARTHUR
A TRAGEDY

FIRST SCENE

Sir Bernard’s castle at Astolat. A room with a window at the back. Sir Bernard alone, seated; he is old and grey-bearded.
Lavaine enters in a hurry of excitement.

Lavaine

Father, the King’s at London gates!

Sir Bernard

Returned?

Lavaine

Victorious. He has overthrown and scattered

Those rebels in the North.

Sir Bernard

Praise God for that!

How heard you this, Lavaine?

Lavaine

From a King’s herald

That rode through Astolat. I spoke with him.

But, father, there’s new faction now, he says,

Brewing in the West. He is below with Torre.

Sir Bernard

A herald of the King! What does he here?

Lavaine

The King sends seeking for Sir Launcelot.

Three months ago he vanished, this man said;

Vanished, and not a word of why or whither.

But now the King’s returned, he’ll search the land

Into its farthest corners for his friend.... (pause)

Father, is it not strange Sir Launcelot vanished

Just ere the King had so great need of him?

Sir Bernard

Very strange.

(A pause.)

Lavaine

Father, have you ever thought

Perhaps our guest, this knight my sister found

Pierced by an arrow among the forest leaves,

Who will not tell his name, might be none other

Than Launcelot himself?

Sir Bernard

What starts your thought upon so wild a fancy?

Lavaine

It is three months ago, the herald says,

Sir Launcelot disappeared. Three months ago

This knight was wounded and brought hither. Then,

Another thing—but now I took him news

Of the King’s victory; he was greatly stirred;

But when I spoke of this new head of trouble

Reared in the West, he started up and cried,

“I must be gone: the King has need of me!”

Sir Bernard

Sir Launcelot? It can hardly be, Lavaine.

But he has borne him like a true, brave knight,

And though he has kept his name unknown to us

I’ll wager it is noble——

Lavaine

And a name

Not less renowned than noble, I am sure.

Father, King Arthur needs good men-at-arms,

Needs every sword that’s loyal. If our guest

Goes to the King now, let me ride with him

To London; let me serve in the King’s wars.

Sir Bernard

Your sword must win a wide renown, my son,

Ere he has need of you.

Lavaine

I’ll win renown;

I’ll hew it from the world, as Launcelot did.

Sir Bernard

Patience, my son! If any serves the King

From this house, it shall be my eldest son

First, and your brother bides with me——

Lavaine

Oh, Torre!

A stay-at-home born! He’ll not leave his dogs.

He’s for the country, and abhors the Court.

Torre bursts in.

Torre

I have found him. Blind that I must have been

Not to have guessed before!

Lavaine

Found whom, Torre?

Torre (at the window).

Look!

Look! in the garden, walking with Elaine.

God wither him!

Sir Bernard

Our guest? What mean you, boy?

Torre

Evermore by our sister’s side, and she

Takes his corruption to her innocence

Like syllables of Scripture. Would to heaven——

Sir Bernard

Cease raving, Torre. Our guest——

Torre

Who hides his name——

What name? Why hidden? I have found him out.

Lavaine

Who is it?

Torre

Launcelot!

Lavaine

Did I not say it, father?

Torre

You knew?

Lavaine

The thought leapt to my mind but now.

Sir Bernard

Sir Launcelot?

Torre

Launcelot, the Queen’s paramour.

Sir Bernard

Shame, Torre! Shame! The King’s friend.

Lavaine

The best knight

That wears a sword upon this earth.

Torre

A traitor!

Lavaine

He serves the Queen, and the Queen chooses him

To be her peerless champion in the lists;

Therefore the vile think evil.

Torre

You are a boy;

Talk like a boy, think like a boy.

Sir Bernard

You know

This is Sir Launcelot? He has told it to you?

Many a knight will hide his name for cause

Of some adventure, or some secret vow.

Torre

Is it not three months since this guest of ours

Was found in the forest with an arrow through him——

Found by Elaine? Would God that hunter’s arrow

Had split his heart in two!

Sir Bernard

This rage is madness.

Torre

It’s he. The herald told me of a scar

Upon Sir Launcelot’s forehead. You have seen it.

Look at Elaine, pacing beside him. Watch

How her cheek changes, how she listens——

Lavaine

Well,

He is not so graceless not to bid good-bye

To her that’s been his hostess and his nurse.

What harm in that?

Torre

What harm? To lose her heart

And make a pastime for the filcher of it!

Queen, country maid—all’s practice to his lures.

Sir Bernard

You anger me: so rank in your suspicions.

You read him backward, as the witches do

The holy writ. Whether Launcelot or no,

This is a true man.

Torre

Father, he is false.

Lavaine

You slander one that’s better than yourself.

Torre

He goes. I’ll to the herald now, and I’ll

Proclaim him found.

Lavaine

And when he goes, I go.

I’ll follow such a man to the world’s end.

Torre

Lavaine, you shall not.

Lavaine

And I say, I will.

Torre

He is the lover of Queen Guenevere.

Launcelot enters quietly.

Torre

None in the Court but knows it, save the King.

Sir Bernard

Now shame upon you, Torre. Our guest is here.

Torre

Let me speak, father.

Sir Bernard

Will you shame our house

And me too? Peace.

Torre

I must speak out my heart,

Guest or no guest. Sir, will it please you to ask

This guest of ours why he has hid a name

Men know, whether for good or ill——

Sir Bernard

This house

Shall not forget its ancient courtesies

While I am master. These are sorry manners:

I never taught you such. In his own time

Our noble guest shall tell us what he will

Or, if he choose, be nameless. Now, no more.

Lavaine (eagerly)

Is it Sir Launcelot?

Launcelot

I am Launcelot. Sir,

Pardon me, if for causes of my own

I let my name sleep in the dark awhile.

Sir Bernard

We should have guessed it. Though we dwell retired

In Astolat, doubt not those deeds of fame

Which you have done for Britain and our King

And made a glory in the land—doubt not

We have them all by heart.

Lavaine

Drank them like wine.

Sir Bernard

Our children’s children will be telling them

By the fire. The famed Sir Launcelot! and this,

This is our guest—Sir Launcelot! Good news.

Torre

Good news, that he has thieved your daughter’s heart!

But here he stays no moment more. I’ll fetch

King Arthur’s herald and proclaim him.

Launcelot

Spare

Your pains, sir. I have spoken with that herald

And ride with him at once; I had come now

For my farewell.

Torre

By heaven, and not too soon.

Sir Bernard

Torre!

Launcelot

Let him speak.

Sir Bernard

Nay, Sir——

Torre

Have you not eyes?

This paragon of Courts, smiled on of Queens,

Deigns for his rustic leisure to make sport

Of our simplicity. Elaine has given

Her whole heart to him, and he’ll toss her now

To oblivion.

Sir Bernard

Torre, you have dishonoured me——

Lavaine

Shame, Torre!

Sir Bernard

Dishonoured me and all my house.

Torre

I am rough: but truth is rough; and the bur sticks.

Launcelot

Sir Bernard,

I owe your daughter all the breath I breathe.

She found me at the gasp of death; she brought me

Of her sweet pity hither, healed my wound,

And more; for when black clouds were on my mind

She let the morning shine full into it;

I felt her like the sky, the morning dew.

If—if there be some fondness, some young spring

Of fondness in her heart, Time soon amends

Such wounds. She is a child. If this be gone

More deep than tenderness and pity’s tears

I have means to cure it. Let me speak with her.

Torre

He shall not, father.

Sir Bernard

This to me! Now leave us,

Or ask a pardon that is ill deserved.

Elaine enters

Sir Bernard

Sir Launcelot——

(Elaine, hearing the name, gives a little cry of wonder.)

Elaine! Speak with her, then.

You have my trust. My sons, come.

Torre

You are blind.

We shall taste bitterness ere this be done.

[Sir Bernard goes out with his sons.

Elaine

Sir Launcelot! Sir Launcelot of the Lake?

Was it the famed Sir Launcelot that I found

Like a dead man so pale on the dead leaves?

Sir Launcelot! I have won Sir Launcelot back

To life, to glory! Now I have a name

To call you by; the name I used to hear

When it seemed distant as the dazzling sun;

Why did you hide your name?

(Launcelot is silent.)

Something is changed.

What is it? Tell me.

Launcelot

The King has been in peril;

I should have been with him.

Elaine

And not with me!

Launcelot

Forgive me, my fair nurse. If I have breath

To speak at all, I owe it to you. For you

Have made of me a new man, and I thank you

With all my heart that now I can return

To serve my King. Where is my shield?

Elaine (bringing the shield from a corner of the room)

So soon?

And I must lose the shield? Look, I have made

A silken case broidered with its device

And bordered with fair flowers, which day by day

I broidered while you lay so sick and speechless.

Each morning I have burnished it.

Launcelot

Like me,

It wears its scars.

Elaine

Glorious scars! I seem

To feel the rushing stroke, when you upheld it

There! Dreadful stroke! Good shield! What fight was that?

Launcelot

It was that battle on the Solway shore,

When all the sands were blood, and we were pressed

So heavily by the wild men of the isles

That in the press the King came near his death.

This shielded Arthur then.

Elaine

And you, you saved him.

Launcelot

So kingly a King, who would not die for him?

He has made this isle of Britain such a realm

As famous Alexander might have throned

Or Cæsar bled for:

Beat back the Saxon, soldered into one

The princedoms that were all at envious broil

With one another; made his name a trumpet,

Sounding across the seas even to Rome.

The world knows that; but I know more and dearer.

Elaine

How came this other scar?

Launcelot

Ah, that was done

By my own friend, Sir Gawaine. He mistook me

For the false Torquil, who had trapped his brothers.

But, when he knew, he flung his sword away

And caught me to his heart; a headlong man

In wrath or love.

Elaine

I pray he love you always.

And this deep gash?

Launcelot

By the black winter waves

Under Tintagel towers, that blow was dealt.

Elaine

Wonderful shield, that has endured such blows

And borne your mortal wounds for you, and been

Where I would fain have been! I feel as if

Those dreadful murderous thrusts were in my body.

How had I gloried to be this, that saved you!

Leave me the shield that has your story on it

Till I have all its battles in my heart.

Launcelot

How should a knight do battle without his shield?

Elaine

I must resign it then. Take your good shield,

But I will keep its case. Look! I have stitched

Upon it with my needle every scar

That gashed its brightness. And now you will forsake me?

Launcelot

Have you no boon to ask me, ere I go?

I owe you all. Ask what you will.

Elaine

A boon?

And you will grant me anything I ask?

Launcelot

If it be in my power, and in my honour.

Elaine

I have heard that a knight wears his lady’s favour

When he goes into battle. Wear you mine?

Launcelot

I never did that yet for any maid,

For any woman. Ask some other boon,

Not this.

Elaine

But this is all I have to ask.

Launcelot

Think, and then choose again.

Elaine

You promised me.

Is my poor favour so contemptible?

I have it here.

Launcelot

What is it?

Elaine

A red sleeve

Sewn with pearls.

Launcelot

If I wear this for your sake,

Since you have won me from my wound, Elaine,

You did more than you knew. I had fled the world.

Because I had in my tormented heart

Something it was too weak to endure against.

But now you have made me strong. I fear no more.

Elaine

Never was fear, never was aught but honour

Within the great heart of Sir Launcelot.

And you will wear this? I will bind it on.

Launcelot

I never did so much for any woman;

But I will wear it.

Elaine

I have bound it on.

And now you are my knight! I see it far,

My sleeve, my red sleeve, far among the spears,

Among the helmets: none dare follow it.

I know my knight shall triumph over all,

Over the world.

Launcelot

Elaine, you cannot tell

How like a fountain that pure trust you have

Cleanses me through. God keep me true to it.

And now, farewell.

Elaine

But you will come again?

Launcelot

My child, I will not.

Elaine

Oh, my lord, have mercy

Without you I shall die.

Launcelot

Elaine!

Elaine

Have mercy.

I cannot live, but if you love me.

Launcelot

Ah!

Elaine

Take me for wife, or no wife if you will.

But if you do not love me, I must die.

Launcelot

Elaine,

Deep in the heart of me, humbly and purely,

I thank you for your love, for your sweet love;

Sweet as a flower it is to my sore spirit.

But I am one who, could I give such love

As should be yours, the love that blesses both

In the meeting lips of innocence, the love

That’s honour, faith, truth—must be changed to what

I am not. Did you know——

Elaine

I only know

That if you will not love me, I must die.

Launcelot

Let the months pass, and you shall smile at this.

Life’s yet for you in the young leaf, Elaine,

You’ll love some other man, some better man.

And whosoever it be, I give you both

A dowry of my treasure and my lands

To you and to your heirs, and I will be

Your own knight till I die.

Elaine

None of all this,

None of all this I want; only your love.

Give me your love, or my good days are done.

Launcelot

You know not what you ask, nor whom you ask.

I have a sin heavy upon my soul.

Elaine

What is that to me, who love you?

Launcelot

It were better

You thought of me all the evil that’s in men.

Hate me!

Elaine

I cannot. If I would, I cannot.

Launcelot

Made I such pain when I was tasting only

The sweet of the world? Now I have set my will

On the hard path, I suffer and make suffer

All that I touch.

Elaine

Let me but suffer for you!

Let me but follow where you go, my lord;

However rough the roads, I’ll travel them;

Though my feet bleed, that shall be sweet to me.

Launcelot

Shall nothing but the truth content you then?

My heart is given—lost!

Elaine

Now you have told me.

(She sinks half fainting.)

Launcelot

Lavaine, Sir Bernard, enter!

Sir Bernard, Torre, and Lavaine re-enter.

Torre

Devil! She knows,

And it will kill her.

Sir Bernard

Child! Elaine! Look up.

Launcelot

Sir Bernard, I have hurt her but to heal.

Pardon me for this sorrow I have made.

Torre

Did I not say that we should rue this man?

She has seen to his black heart, and it will kill her.

Sir Bernard

Peace, Torre! (To Launcelot) I doubt not you have used all kindness.

We’ll pray that Time amend this in his fashion.

Sir Launcelot, God be with you.

Launcelot

And with you

Would heaven that I could have requited her.

Lavaine

I must go, father, with Sir Launcelot.

She understands well how it is with me.

Father, your blessing (kneels).

Sir Bernard

Have your will, my son.

Seeing what has befallen, maybe it is best.

Go, and be worthy of the house that bred you.

Launcelot

Come then, Lavaine. I do but rankle here.

Lavaine

Sister, farewell.

Launcelot

Peace come to you, Elaine.

Kind host, again farewell. In the white fire

Of her young heart be grief consumed away.

[Exeunt Launcelot and Lavaine.

Sir Bernard

Brave, sweet; look up!

Torre

Oh, father, she will die.

SECOND SCENE

A room in the Palace at London. At the back a colonnade, through which is seen a rose hedge. The King and Sir Bedivere: Arthur pacing up and down.

Arthur

No news yet, Bedivere?

Bedivere

Our messengers return with silent faces.

It is as if the earth had swallowed him.

Arthur

Launcelot lost!... This victory, Bedivere,

Was not as the old days. Something baulked us, something

Like an invisible impediment—

I felt it round me—something that unnerved

What should have been a hammer-stroke. Almost,

But for my suddenness, it was defeat.

Bedivere

I had not hazarded to broach a thought

Sprung from surmises only; but my King

Has spoken; therefore, may I speak?

Arthur

Hide nothing.

Bedivere

If rumours breathed about the camp be true,

There was some treason.

Arthur

I felt it in the air,

Like fog on a sour wind. Tell me more.

Bedivere

Sir,

I cannot speak but on a dark report,

And hardly now dare tell.

Arthur

Hide nothing. Speak.

Bedivere

The name that men have whispered in the night

Is the name of Mordred.

Arthur

My own sister’s son!

In my own house, treason!

Bedivere

It may be nothing,

But one I sent on a night-errand saw

A man disguised and muffled stealing up

From where the rebels lay. A camp-fire chanced

To blaze up on a sudden out of smoke.

The face was Mordred’s.

Arthur

Mordred, false to me!

Treachery in my own house, Bedivere.

Bedivere

Mordred is ever fair and frank in speech,

Looks you in the eyes and smiles. And in the battle,

Though he’s no hungry fighter, he fought well;

And, after, cheered our victory. And yet

There is a hushing upon Mordred’s name

As if it curtained secrets. Sir, I fear him;

I cannot tell why.

Arthur

There is power in him.

Bedivere

He keeps a kind of hidden confidence,

That is a magnet to unstable men.

Arthur

I never wronged him. Treason? For what cause?

Envy’s a cause. Ambition is a cause.

(Guenevere enters.)

The marshals of the jousts

That are to celebrate our victory

Attend the King in Council.

Arthur

Say I come.

[Exit Bedivere.

(Absorbed in his own thoughts, Arthur does not notice the Queen.)

I grow old, I begin to doubt and fear.

Rather a thousand enemies that shout

Their hate, than one that smiles behind me——

Guenevere (softly)

Arthur!

Arthur

And Launcelot gone from me! But why? I grope

Into the silence, and find nothing.

Guenevere (more loudly)

Arthur!

Arthur (turning)

My Queen!

Guenevere

You have bid me no good-morrow yet.

Arthur

Good-morrow, Guenevere.

Guenevere (after a pause)

I think they wait you.

Arthur

In time. What ails my Queen?

Guenevere

Nothing at all.

I am but an idle corner of your kingdom;

You are called to graver matters.

Arthur

Guenevere,

If that this robe of care that now is on me

Seem to absent my heart, take it not ill,

You know where my heart lives. Perplexities

Even now beset me.

(Murmurs without.)

Guenevere

Hark!

Someone cried “Launcelot”! If it were he!

(Louder murmurs.)

They do cry “Launcelot”!

Arthur

Can it be?

Guenevere

It is!

Arthur

The world is changed if I have Launcelot.

Come we to meet him.

Guenevere (afraid of showing her joy)

If it be ill news?

Arthur

What is it ails you, Guenevere? You hear

The joy cry in those voices. Come.

Guenevere

Go you.

Arthur

He comes, my friend, my Launcelot! It is true!

Launcelot enters and falls on his knee before Arthur. Lavaine follows at a distance.

Launcelot (kneeling)

My King!

Arthur

My friend! Rise, look me in the face,

That I may be assured it is my friend

Beside me once again.

Launcelot (rising)

To the last hour.

And last drop of my blood.

Arthur

See, Guenevere,

Our hope is havened. Our Launcelot returns.

Whence come you? Tell me.

Launcelot

Ah, what matters whence,

Since I am come to serve my only King?

Arthur

Pale, too! I think some suffering’s written here.

Launcelot

I am but new-recovered from a wound.

Arthur

In battle?

Launcelot

Nothing glorious, my King.

I rode in the forest on a winter’s day,

Thinking my thoughts. A misty day it was

With a pale sun, and red leaves underfoot.

I let my horse pace on, lost in a muse;

But, as it chanced, a hunter in those woods

Was shooting at the deer, and aimed so ill

His arrow found its quarry in my side.

Guenevere

Ah!

Launcelot

I fell. I knew no more. But for good hap,

Some clown had tracked me to those muddy leaves,

Me that had shaped a splendid field to die on—

And found me—sorry venison——

Arthur

Where was this?

Launcelot

In the thick woods over Astolat.

Arthur

You fled me,

Launcelot; and scarcely were you gone, when came

Ill-tidings, and I had sore need of you.

You fled me: for what cause?

Launcelot

I fled not you, my King, I fled not you—

Ask me no more.

Arthur

Let be then;

Keep secret what you will. You are come back:

I’ll probe no further. Is this wound well healed?

Launcelot

There was a maid found me in that same forest,

A maid well skilled in healing, and the daughter

Of the old lord of Astolat. Elaine

She is called: she won me back to life, and I

Have brought with me her brother: he would serve

His King, and he is worthy.

Will it please you to receive him?

Arthur

Surely one

Who comes with Launcelot, and so commended,

Shall have his full of welcome. Bring him to us;

For many of my knights, alas! are fallen,

And youth amends our loss.

(Launcelot brings forward Lavaine, who kneels.)

Launcelot

Lavaine, your King.

Arthur

Lavaine, be of our court and fellowship.

And if you would be patterned, here is one

To follow: have him for your heart’s ensample

In loyalty, in love, in all that’s honour.

[Lavaine bows and retires.

True stock. I thank you.

Launcelot, we celebrate a joust to-morrow

In honour of this victory we have won;

And you must ride in it: for we were mourning

That it should lack the star of all my knights.

The Marshals wait me. But my Queen, no word?

Welcome him, Guenevere. Give me your hand.

(Takes Guenevere’s hand in his.)

Launcelot, it was you that long ago

Saved my Queen for me, when proud Orkney’s King

Had taken her, trapped and captive, to his tower.

You brought her back to me: you saved her then.

Have you forgotten?

Launcelot

I remember it.

Guenevere

What need to call that old day back to us?

Arthur

Circumstance is a quicksand. If the day

Fall on me ever when my Launcelot stands

Not on my side——

Launcelot

Never shall that day dawn!

My King, I say again those words I said

When first I vowed my fealty. By that sword

Which made me knight, I swear me to be true.

I will devote my body to your cause,

I will not fail you by my hand or heart

While breath is in me; and if I fail, be this

My adjuration and high oath fulfilled

In curse and condemnation on my soul.

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

And never a word, never a single word!

I think that Launcelot is so long away

He forgets Guenevere.

Launcelot

If he remembered

An hour when he forgot her——

Guenevere

You are changed;

Pale in the cheek, cold in the heart; or is it

The young eyes of a maid, and her soft hands

Touching you? Who is this fair maid?

Launcelot

My Queen,

You heard me. Thank her, if you find it thanks

That I am here to serve you.

Guenevere

You are changed.

Something, I know not what, has wrought in you.

You are still absent from me. I hear your voice,

But it is like the dream-voice that was all

I had, these days of desolation. Tell me,

Am I, too, altered?

Launcelot

You are beautiful

As when I first beheld you, Guenevere;

More beautiful.

Guenevere

And you, you too, have suffered.

You have been wounded, and I was not there.

Ill chances happen, when you go from me.

Why did you go from me? And there was none

To love me.

Launcelot

Guenevere! The King——

Guenevere

The King!

He gives me to your hands; defends me so,

With circumspection, like a palisade

From far away; not with a strong right arm

About my body and a sword in hand.

I am but a custom and an effigy

Robed for his realm’s observances; and he

Remembers only that I wear a crown.

He is as far from me as the night stars.

I cannot touch him, cannot wound him.

Launcelot

Queen,

I love him. Speak not so.

Guenevere

I am alone,

And there is none to love me.

Launcelot

Here am I,

With my sword, with my blood, every last drop

Of blood that’s in my body, and it is yours.

Guenevere

And yet you left me—left me to Mordred’s mercy.

I am afraid of Mordred, Launcelot.

He has barbed your very absence; whispers that you

Fled from a rumour grown too dangerous

Because you dared not fight against the truth—

Ah, now you put your hand upon your sword—

Yes, even this. He has been diligent,

Has Agravaine, his brother, at his side.

And Colegrevance has joined them, with his friends

Patrice and Mador; and these go about

Shrugging suspicion at me, breathing hints

Foul as a fog about my name.

Launcelot

Vile traitors!

Mordred plays deep then, and makes power about him.

I fear that he is falser than you dream.

The rumour runs that treachery was at work

Conniving with these rebels in the North.

My life upon the hazard, it was he.

The Queen is but a pawn in Mordred’s game

That plays—who knows?—for kinship. Guenevere,

This poison that he brews and breathes abroad

Is but to start dissension round the King

And split the realm in two. But that my Queen

Should suffer torture for his use! The traitor!

If this impalpable fog could take a shape,

A body—there before me—a throat to strangle,

A breast to strike at and to kill!

Guenevere

Ah, now

I have a shield and a sword—what care I now

For the world’s evil tongues? You are come back,

And spring is in the sky. Is it not sweet

To taste and feel? The blue sky, the warm air,

Trembling among the young leaves. Now I feel

As when we went a-Maying in the woods

Together and alone. Pluck me a flower.

There at the window one peeps in.

(Launcelot brings her a rose. She caresses his hand.)

So sad?

So sad still? Come into the golden sun.

Look, every small shoot thrills up to the light.

Smell the sweet rose upon its thorny briar.

Launcelot

Sweet as old hours remembered.

Guenevere (very softly)

Sweet as those

To come.

Launcelot (madly embracing her)

Ah, Guenevere, to suffer so.

I am yours, yours, only yours—(abruptly breaking away)—O God, have pity!

Guenevere

Why should we not take what there is of joy,

So little as there is, so little?

Launcelot

Guenevere, I have sworn. There’s burning fire

Between us.

(Pushes her from him.)

Guenevere

Where is your joy gone?

In what strange countries have you been from me?

This—this is not the Launcelot I knew.

Launcelot

That Launcelot must die. Think of him slain,

As in my anguish I have fought to slay him!

Where have I been?

I have been down in the darkness, near great Death.

I have had dreams upon my fever-bed,

Trances that touched the mortal sense of Time

To nothing; and Eternity looked in

To the inmost of my soul,

There seemed no lifting of a hand but had

Its shadow vast in heaven——

Guenevere

We are sinners all.

Put these black dreams behind you——

Launcelot

And no deed

But, like a wave that writes upon the sand

Ebbed from its naked witness, I remembered

What in the fault and soilure of our nature

I have wrought amiss. Guenevere, I am afraid

To see my very self, as God sees it.

Guenevere

That is God’s business. He has made us flesh.

When we are spirits, and in the world of spirits,

It may be then that we shall ache no more,

Nor hunger for a voice, a touch, a kiss;

But while this wine of earth is in my veins,

I hunger. Had I sought for happiness,

Should I have chosen love? But it was Love

Chose me, and all my soul is dyed in yours,

I cannot be a separate self——

Launcelot

Nor I.

Guenevere, when this body is in the grave,

My very dust will turn and yearn to you.

As the seed springs and shoots up through the earth,

So shall I come to you.

Guenevere

But now, but now,

Have you no joy of me?

Launcelot (as if no word were stranger)

Joy?

Guenevere

Do you keep

Your passion for the dust and for the grave?

Oh, you grow weary, say the truth at last,

For a young hand has touched you.

Launcelot

Guenevere!

Guenevere

Why did you leave me?

Launcelot

I was afraid.

Guenevere

The truth.

Launcelot

I thought to pluck you from my heart: and if

Sharp stone or cutting steel could do it, I’d

Have spared no agony. But stone nor steel

Can root what’s part of every breath I breathe.

Though I should stamp on it, it flowers again

And looks like innocence. I fled from love

That was too strong for me.

Guenevere

And fled to her.

I see you changed, and she has wrought the change.

Insulter, mocking me with sick pretence

And virtuous aversions. Love! You love!

The burning name is ashes in your mouth.

You are weary, you are weary, you are weary!

You’ll none of me, and I’ll have none of you,

I’ll choose another for my sword and shield

Not you—that are but words.

[She rushes out in great anger.

Launcelot

Didst thou make woman, God,

As thou hast made fire, earthquake, and sea-storm,

To raise a beauty of terror and overthrow

Great realms and reason’s self? Comes she again,

The flame is on the wind and I am straw.

I’m in the net. Oh for an enemy

To hurl at! Dogs, would they betray their King,

Shatter that dearest jewel of his life,

This realm; make me their poisoned instrument,

And in the crash drag down into the dirt,

O infamy!—my Queen?

Get to your work, Mordred; prime your crew;

Hatch your plot! Still I have my word to say.

If no way else avails I’ll take me hence

To my own country, and you shall stretch your hands

To grasp at nothing. Well,

Whatever comes, I have a sword that’s clean.

THIRD SCENE

Astolat. A room with a low seat by a window at the back, as in Scene I.
Sir Bernard and Torre stand watching Elaine, who sleeps by the window. They talk in low tones.

Torre

See how she is wasted. If you lift her hand, it is as light as a leaf, and she shakes with the beating of her heart. He has cast a spell on her, bewitched her.

Sir Bernard

I would I had that balm, whatever country bears it, that should refresh my child.

Torre

Twice has she started from her sleep crying: “It is he! It is he!”

Sir Bernard

Alas, that her mother is dead. What should an old man do against love?