Scene III Another Part of the Forest — Launcelot and Gwaine
Gwaine. Launcelot, thou art a fool. Thou art the King’s man, and the best. Thou hast an arm and a sword on it. Thou must come. I will no longer here.
Laun. I may not, this hurt be too deep.
Gwaine. Damn thy hurt, man! thou art sound as I.
Laun. ’Tis a deep hurt, Launcelot fights no more. Here will I die.
Gwaine. Better go a Monk, thou art a fool, Man. This love is a girl’s folly. Fighting is a man’s trade and his sword his true mistress. Gwaine will have no other. Come, thou art not dead yet.
Laun. Aye Gwaine thou wastest words, Launcelot is ended.
Gwaine. Damn thee! I gave my word I would bring thee, will I have to go foresworn else carry thee on my back. Have I cured thy madness but for this?
Laun. Nay, nay, make peace best thou canst. Thou art a good fellow, but I cannot. Launcelot will die here.
Gwaine. I say, damn thee, thou shalt come!
Laun. Thou liest! (Both spring to their feet and draw.) (Trumpets without.) (Enter the King’s Messengers.)
Gwaine. Who comes?
Mess. From the King.
Gwaine. What want ye?
Mess. We seek two knights, Sir Launcelot and Sir Gwaine.
Gwaine. We be thy men—what be thy message?
Mess. The King desireth thee in great haste, the Queen be in great peril.
Laun. Nay!
Mess. Yea, of her life. She be condemned to the stake if a knight assoil her not with his body on her accuser tomorrow noon.
Laun. Dread Heaven!
Gwaine. What be the accusation?
Mess. Murder on the body of Sir Patrise.
Laun. Enough! hast thou brought horses?
Mess. Yea.
Laun. Then quick! on your lives! lead us hence!
[Exit Launcelot and Messengers.
Gwaine. The foul fiend take this love! It be a queer sickness indeed. Anon it made him like to luke water, and now he be all fire. It bloweth now up now down, like the wind i’ a chimney. Yea I love that man like a father his child. There is no sword like to his i’ the whole kingdom. An’ a wench that be a queen leadeth him like a goss-hawk. (Voices without.)
Yea, I am coming.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.—(Enter Court-ushers with trumpets, Soldiers and Knights. Enter the King: takes his State. Enter the Queen in a black robe surrounded by her Women, comes to the foot of the Throne, falls on her face.)
Guin. Arthur, thou wilt save me?
Arthur. My Queen, as the king I may not. My heart is hell.
Put thy trust in Heaven.
Guin. ’Tis a dread death.
Arthur. Madam, could Arthur save thee he would. If thou diest so doth my joy in this world—keep thy heart.
Guin. ’Fore God, I am innocent.
Arthur. Thou must trust to Heaven.
Guin. That I do. (Rises and takes her state.)
Court Chamberlain. Guinevere, Queen of Britain, of this dread crime whereof thou art accused what hast thou to say?
Guin. (Rises.) That I Guinevere, Queen of Britain, am innocent of this most foul charge of which I am here accused, and here call on Heaven to prove on the body of that foul knight mine accuser.
Marshalls enter and trumpets are blown.
Court-Chamberlain. Doth no knight assoil the Queen?
Guin. Heaven help me!
Arthur. Do no knights approach?
Page. Nay, Sire.
Arthur. Then has the hour of my life’s sorrow come.
Enter Sir Mador doffs to the King.
Sir Mador. Sire, the time hath almost passed and I demand a knight to do no battle, or that the Queen be burnt.
Guin. (Aside.) Merciful Heaven!
Arthur. (To the Page.) Do none come?
Page. Nay, Sire.
Dagonet. Were I not bound to Vivien body and soul, I would state the truth. Nay I am accursed. There is but one way. (Staggers to the front of the throne the throng presses back in wonder.)
Dagonet. (Kneels.) Sire!
Arthur. (In voice of thunder.) Well fool?
Dagonet. Didst thou not once make me a knight?
Arthur. Yea, in a moment of jest.
Dagonet. Then would I take this gage!
Guin. Nay, nay, death, death, but not this insult!
What base knight of this court hath prompted this?
Dagonet. None, none my Lady, ’tis my wish.
Arthur. Take him out! Now is Arthur shamed!
Knights hurry Dagonet out.
Dagonet. (Aside.) Now is Hell indeed my portion.
Guin. Sire, I would now die.
Arthur. Yea, my Queen, so would Arthur.
Sir Mador. Sire, the time be up. And, I, as the accuser, now ask that thou, as King, wilt command that Guinevere, Queen of Britain, who standeth there, be taken from hence and burnt till she be dead.
A commotion without, Launcelot rushes in draws and faces Sir Mador.
Laun. And I say, nay!
[Curtain.