Texts
The Death of King Arthur (Act I, Scene 2) by Matthew Freeman (2001)
(GUINEVERE and LANCELOT, in the forest.)
LANCELOT.
I am not him that I would have you see.
GUINEVERE.
You are not he that I would have you be.
How do you not follow me on broken branches
And not make a sound until you mouth it?
LANCELOT.
I have learned silence on my humbling course.
GUINEVERE.
A humble sinner?
LANCELOT.
I am not rare, now.
My sword and my shield I lay down to expose
The common man that knelt before the king.
GUINEVERE.
This is a place of quiet.
LANCELOT.
Yes, I feel it.
GUINEVERE.
And you are not of silence.
LANCELOT.
I have learned
The virtue of a moment passed unspoken
And failure of a man who cries for grace.
GUINEVERE.
This earth is silent. Are you like this dirt?
LANCELOT.
The crying man is never pridelessly
Begging the heavens for his dignity.
All dignity is only pride made proud.
The prettier pride.
GUINEVERE.
So you keep no dignity?
Does not this dirt show stern and unwav’ring
Contempt for all that would convert it else?
Does not a plant reach upwards to its growth?
Are you like flowers?
LANCELOT.
I am like a man.
I cannot surmount the blooming flower
Of my sin, which is inherent in me.
GUINEVERE.
We are not good. Not certain like the trees.
‘Tis no comfort, but you are comfort to me.
I do not know why.
LANCELOT.
For we are beloved.
I am your same, although returned in shame.
GUINEVERE.
Should not we take the sign of your failure
As one from God that he sees how we act?
LANCELOT.
Knew you not before what he saw was all?
GUINEVERE.
He sees both what was and what will befall
And a warning was made for us to quit
Before not only hell but while we live
The end comes tragically and we are found.
LANCELOT.
Found how? We have for years met in this way.
GUINEVERE.
Before the King and all, you nearly told
What your sin was, as I sat and held breath.
You heard the one who called for us to kiss.
That was a mock to use us.
LANCELOT.
Abuse us
If they will, they cannot break my bonds.
GUINEVERE.
When will you ever see that you are not
Infallable, and your brash youthfulness
Does not match the lines etched across your face.
LANCELOT.
So I am what? Not Sir Bors, that old horse?
GUINEVERRE.
Do you claim childhood beside other men?
LANCELOT.
At least I have the strength to raise my sword.
Remember when I wooed in tournament
For Bors, who barely could defend your name?
GUINEVERE.
With you, my champion, off in sullen sulk
And no man by my side could raise his hand
Because the accusation was the poison of their kin.
Even then were you my absent champion.
Bors showed his love, how can you question him?
LANCELOT.
I question him not, but make comparison.
Would you that I were even keeled and calm?
Would you that I were sturdy, tried and true?
The dullest housewife in the quiet stead?
A trusty breadknife, sitting in the cupboard?
Would you your love was his? His safe old hands?
GUINEVERE.
I would my love was Arthur’s back again.
LANCELOT.
Arthur? Bors? These old men, pious peacocks
Who sit aloof and make grand gestures far
From battlefields, from jousts and from Dragons.
Bors saw the final moment of a great quest
But only watched. Other men sacrificed
So he could tell their tale as conquerer.
GUINEVERE.
I am jealous too, of those that can see God.
As we are now, we’re far from such a goal.
LANCELOT.
How so? Because we’re in love with each other?
GUINEVERE.
Have you taken Christ’s love into your heart?
LANCELOT.
My Guinevere.
GUINEVERE.
Have you made me but flesh?
LANCELOT.
You are flesh.
GUINEVERE.
More.
LANCELOT.
I love your flesh, it’s warm.
GUINEVERE.
I’m more.
LANCELOT.
Yes. So much more.
GUINEVERE.
But flesh is least.
LANCELOT.
It’s your body. How can it be said least?
GUINEVERE.
My soul is more.
LANCELOT.
Where’s that? Show me your soul.
GUINEVERE.
I’ll show you everyday, and then it’s less.
LANCELOT.
Your spirit lessened by my eyes discovery?
GUINEVERE.
My spirit?
LANCELOT.
By my eyes?
GUINEVERE.
Is made too bold.
Too naked, I am naked in your eyes.
LANCELOT.
Yes, always naked. I see through your clothes.
GUINEVERE.
You see through more and further still inside.
So Lancelot, I love Arthur. I love him.
I will find a way to love him ever more.
I will touch Arthur better than before.
Because by God, I’m his queen, his Guinevere.
And by your right, it’s safer for you gone.
LANCELOT.
Safer? Do you love me safely? Distantly?
Shall we observe our lives in retrospect
And calmly say we lived them safe from harm?
Where is the glory in your safety, Love?
GUINEVERE.
Glory resides in chivalry, in love
In worship and in sacrifice, in prayer.
Why marry you defiance and Glory?
LANCELOT.
What victory is won by constancy?
GUINEVERE.
Whose throat is cut by constancy? There’s none.
You shame me, and you shame yourself beside.
Before the court, you ask for forgiveness
Of Arthur who smiles and bows his head, too true.
You see? The others know that we are two.
LANCELOT.
This sangrail quest has tamed you to my heart.
You blame me only for the failure past.
I wandered mad, bloodied by lesser men
I cared not for any quest but Guinevere.
I slept by churches, each one turned me out.
My horses stolen, my shield stoned broken.
No God smiled upon me. What God is He
That turns a simply joy to want for pity?
How dare He challenge me, this God, for you?
I’ll best them all, I best them still, no God
Is so vast He may crumble my stone will.
GUINEVERE.
You condemn me to vow heresy by me!
I will run from thee to escape your fat
And never see thee in this Camelot.
I deserve a champion, deserved heaven.
Lancelot too deserved it but in test
Forsook the only Love that could raise him.
LANCELOT.
No I did not. Only you raise me above
A woodcarver of basalm men, none else.
GUINEVERE.
Can you compare me to God and not see
That this will hurt me more than compliment?
LANCELOT.
I mean to show you where you are in me
And cannot call you else but gracious sent.
GUINEVERE.
Alone again, with Arthur, home again.
Now in thy milky mind do remember
That in respect I bid you see me never. (Exits.)
LANCELOT.
Guinevere. From she, my bodies center
Can never leave too long. I love and lover
Must be despite myself. I know this God.
He forgives me as I rage, for he knows
Who put these tempests inside my boiling breast.
Why did he make us with these parts inside
If only to mock us for their plainest use?
These hearts, these bodies, are all built broken
And wordless fervors fragment when too spoken. (Exits.)
LANCELOT.
I am not him that I would have you see.
GUINEVERE.
You are not he that I would have you be.
How do you not follow me on broken branches
And not make a sound until you mouth it?
LANCELOT.
I have learned silence on my humbling course.
GUINEVERE.
A humble sinner?
LANCELOT.
I am not rare, now.
My sword and my shield I lay down to expose
The common man that knelt before the king.
GUINEVERE.
This is a place of quiet.
LANCELOT.
Yes, I feel it.
GUINEVERE.
And you are not of silence.
LANCELOT.
I have learned
The virtue of a moment passed unspoken
And failure of a man who cries for grace.
GUINEVERE.
This earth is silent. Are you like this dirt?
LANCELOT.
The crying man is never pridelessly
Begging the heavens for his dignity.
All dignity is only pride made proud.
The prettier pride.
GUINEVERE.
So you keep no dignity?
Does not this dirt show stern and unwav’ring
Contempt for all that would convert it else?
Does not a plant reach upwards to its growth?
Are you like flowers?
LANCELOT.
I am like a man.
I cannot surmount the blooming flower
Of my sin, which is inherent in me.
GUINEVERE.
We are not good. Not certain like the trees.
‘Tis no comfort, but you are comfort to me.
I do not know why.
LANCELOT.
For we are beloved.
I am your same, although returned in shame.
GUINEVERE.
Should not we take the sign of your failure
As one from God that he sees how we act?
LANCELOT.
Knew you not before what he saw was all?
GUINEVERE.
He sees both what was and what will befall
And a warning was made for us to quit
Before not only hell but while we live
The end comes tragically and we are found.
LANCELOT.
Found how? We have for years met in this way.
GUINEVERE.
Before the King and all, you nearly told
What your sin was, as I sat and held breath.
You heard the one who called for us to kiss.
That was a mock to use us.
LANCELOT.
Abuse us
If they will, they cannot break my bonds.
GUINEVERE.
When will you ever see that you are not
Infallable, and your brash youthfulness
Does not match the lines etched across your face.
LANCELOT.
So I am what? Not Sir Bors, that old horse?
GUINEVERRE.
Do you claim childhood beside other men?
LANCELOT.
At least I have the strength to raise my sword.
Remember when I wooed in tournament
For Bors, who barely could defend your name?
GUINEVERE.
With you, my champion, off in sullen sulk
And no man by my side could raise his hand
Because the accusation was the poison of their kin.
Even then were you my absent champion.
Bors showed his love, how can you question him?
LANCELOT.
I question him not, but make comparison.
Would you that I were even keeled and calm?
Would you that I were sturdy, tried and true?
The dullest housewife in the quiet stead?
A trusty breadknife, sitting in the cupboard?
Would you your love was his? His safe old hands?
GUINEVERE.
I would my love was Arthur’s back again.
LANCELOT.
Arthur? Bors? These old men, pious peacocks
Who sit aloof and make grand gestures far
From battlefields, from jousts and from Dragons.
Bors saw the final moment of a great quest
But only watched. Other men sacrificed
So he could tell their tale as conquerer.
GUINEVERE.
I am jealous too, of those that can see God.
As we are now, we’re far from such a goal.
LANCELOT.
How so? Because we’re in love with each other?
GUINEVERE.
Have you taken Christ’s love into your heart?
LANCELOT.
My Guinevere.
GUINEVERE.
Have you made me but flesh?
LANCELOT.
You are flesh.
GUINEVERE.
More.
LANCELOT.
I love your flesh, it’s warm.
GUINEVERE.
I’m more.
LANCELOT.
Yes. So much more.
GUINEVERE.
But flesh is least.
LANCELOT.
It’s your body. How can it be said least?
GUINEVERE.
My soul is more.
LANCELOT.
Where’s that? Show me your soul.
GUINEVERE.
I’ll show you everyday, and then it’s less.
LANCELOT.
Your spirit lessened by my eyes discovery?
GUINEVERE.
My spirit?
LANCELOT.
By my eyes?
GUINEVERE.
Is made too bold.
Too naked, I am naked in your eyes.
LANCELOT.
Yes, always naked. I see through your clothes.
GUINEVERE.
You see through more and further still inside.
So Lancelot, I love Arthur. I love him.
I will find a way to love him ever more.
I will touch Arthur better than before.
Because by God, I’m his queen, his Guinevere.
And by your right, it’s safer for you gone.
LANCELOT.
Safer? Do you love me safely? Distantly?
Shall we observe our lives in retrospect
And calmly say we lived them safe from harm?
Where is the glory in your safety, Love?
GUINEVERE.
Glory resides in chivalry, in love
In worship and in sacrifice, in prayer.
Why marry you defiance and Glory?
LANCELOT.
What victory is won by constancy?
GUINEVERE.
Whose throat is cut by constancy? There’s none.
You shame me, and you shame yourself beside.
Before the court, you ask for forgiveness
Of Arthur who smiles and bows his head, too true.
You see? The others know that we are two.
LANCELOT.
This sangrail quest has tamed you to my heart.
You blame me only for the failure past.
I wandered mad, bloodied by lesser men
I cared not for any quest but Guinevere.
I slept by churches, each one turned me out.
My horses stolen, my shield stoned broken.
No God smiled upon me. What God is He
That turns a simply joy to want for pity?
How dare He challenge me, this God, for you?
I’ll best them all, I best them still, no God
Is so vast He may crumble my stone will.
GUINEVERE.
You condemn me to vow heresy by me!
I will run from thee to escape your fat
And never see thee in this Camelot.
I deserve a champion, deserved heaven.
Lancelot too deserved it but in test
Forsook the only Love that could raise him.
LANCELOT.
No I did not. Only you raise me above
A woodcarver of basalm men, none else.
GUINEVERE.
Can you compare me to God and not see
That this will hurt me more than compliment?
LANCELOT.
I mean to show you where you are in me
And cannot call you else but gracious sent.
GUINEVERE.
Alone again, with Arthur, home again.
Now in thy milky mind do remember
That in respect I bid you see me never. (Exits.)
LANCELOT.
Guinevere. From she, my bodies center
Can never leave too long. I love and lover
Must be despite myself. I know this God.
He forgives me as I rage, for he knows
Who put these tempests inside my boiling breast.
Why did he make us with these parts inside
If only to mock us for their plainest use?
These hearts, these bodies, are all built broken
And wordless fervors fragment when too spoken. (Exits.)
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