Texts
King Arthur: A Drama in a Prologue and Four Acts (Act I) by J. Comyns Carr, music by Sir Arthur Sullivan (1895)
GUINEVERE.
And would I ne'er had seen thee, for thy words
Have set my heart on fire! Can it be so?
That then when first we met his love did change?
It is not so, and his own lips shall speak
And say 'tis false, or else I shall go mad.
(Enter Lancelot.)
GUINEVERE.
Ah, thou art here. Why is thy mind so bent
To leave the court? The King would know the cause.
Think'st thou, because thy favour stands so high
In fame of earthly deeds, that thou shalt win
This heavenly crown?
LANCELOT.
Indeed, I think not so.
His eyes alone shall see that holy cup,
Whose soul stands clear of sin.
GUINEVERE.
What boots it then
To adventure all upon a hopeless quest?
LANCELOT.
Ay, hopeless, for I may not touch the goal.
Yet once, when I lay stricken nigh to death,
By this same vessel of the Sangrael
My hurt was cured; now, when my heart is pierced,
Though by no mortal stroke of sword or spear,
Perchance again that same sweet miracle
May heal my deeper wound.
GUINEVERE.
I know thy wound.
LANCELOT.
If that were so I should be shamed indeed!
GUINEVERE.
Indeed, 'tis so. Elaine was here but now.
I did not dream that all the world could show
So fair a maid. No marvel that thy heart
Is sick with love.
LANCELOT.
Madam, I love her not!
GUINEVERE.
Nay, that is false: think it no shame to own
What, in some angry fit, thy tongue denied.
LANCELOT.
My shame lies deeper, seeing I once vowed
A love that now lies dead.
GUINEVERE.
Elaine's soft eyes
Will find Love's tomb, and charm it back to life.
Go to her now, and plead thy suit again;
I'll warrant you will find her not too hard,
Your wooing is half done.
LANCELOT.
Urge me no more,
For here, by Heaven, I swear I love her not.
GUINEVERE.
Then wherefore wouldst thou enter on this quest?
LANCELOT.
Nay, madam, in thy pity, spare me that!
GUINEVERE.
I will be answered. Am I not thy Queen?
LANCELOT.
Thou art indeed, and therefore hast thy will!
I had thought to pass away and leave behind
The dear remembrance of thy loyal love
I once deserved. But now that too has gone,
For thou wouldst wring the secret from my lips,
That brands me traitor.
GUINEVERE.
Traitor!
LANCELOT.
Aye! 'Tis true,
And thou hast known it, else thy gracious heart
Were not so pitiless: 'twas for this I've seen
Those veiled eyes cloak the hate they scorned to tell,
When, by some evil chance, their gaze met mine;
For this thy gentle smile took sudden flight
When I passed by.
GUINEVERE.
No! No! No more, no more!
LANCELOT.
Nay, madam, drink thy vengeance to the fill.
I leave the court because I love its Queen!
(Flings himself at her feet.)
GUINEVERE.
I did not hear thee; speak that word again.
LANCELOT.
Ay, once again, I love thee; all my shame
Lies naked at thy feet; I do but crave
That here my life may end.
GUINEVERE.
Nay, do not rise.
There's something I would say, yet know not how;
For if thy life must end, then so must mine.
You cannot guess my shame.
LANCELOT.
Thou hast no shame,
Save that which my base love hath laid on thee!
GUINEVERE.
Indeed I have: oft when we kneel and pray,
Before God's image bleeding on the Cross,
We cheat our souls, for our vain hearts still seek
The manhood not the God: 'twas so with me.
That hour when Arthur came, it seemed as though
Christ's hand had beckoned, and I knelt to him,
And, in the mist of worship, thought I saw,
The wingèd heart of love. But when you came,
His great ambassador from Camelot,
I saw Love's heart indeed, and knew I loved –
But not the King.
LANCELOT.
What sayest thou? Not the King?
Wouldst make me mad!
GUINEVERE.
Ah me, that home-coming
When we two rode in silence side by side,
And all my heart was hungry for a word!
The blossoms of the springtime turned to flame –
And yet you spoke not; now it is too late. (She moves away.)
LANCELOT
(Rising.) No, not too late, unless those lips are false.
Ah, hear me now – thou wouldst have heard me then –
My lonely love I could have borne alone,
Counting this mortal life too short a term
Of exile for my sin: but now that's past,
And, through the darkness, like a sudden star,
Thy heart stands clear, lighting our sweeter way.
Nay, do not turn thy face, thou knowest 'tis so.
Love speaks at last – and Love will be obeyed.
(He moves towards her, and she turns as if to yield to his embrace when the chaunt of the Knights breaks forth again, and the movement is arrested.)
KNIGHTS.
Look not to thy love,
Love that lives an hour;
Heaven's voice above
Calls thee from her bower.
Rise, and go forth, with us who seek the Grail,
Winning from above
Love that shall not fail.
GUINEVERE.
Yea, truth, 'tis love that speaks! But not our love,
The love of Heaven, of honour, and of – him.
KNIGHTS.
Rise, and go forth, with us who seek the Grail,
Winning from above
Love that shall not fail.
GUINEVERE.
It is their voice that calls, and thou wilt go.
I thought to hold thee here – I may not now.
LANCELOT.
My shame is dumb; yet, in thy purer heart,
I may find grace to save what still remains
Of my wrecked soul: my trust stands all in thee.
GUINEVERE.
Nay, trust thyself.
LANCELOT.
Thy words must be my law.
GUINEVERE.
Wait not for that, a woman is too weak
To guard what's best in what she loves the best.
We shall not speak again. (Exits.)
LANCELOT.
Ay, once again,
When from thy lips shall come the dread command
That sends me hence; and like a flaming sword
Love bars the gate of this new paradise
Which love hath won; yet through the desert night
Of life's long pilgrimage, one star shall stay,
And when death comes at last, to end our quest,
My fainting heart shall quicken at the thought,
'Twas thou didst bid me go.
And would I ne'er had seen thee, for thy words
Have set my heart on fire! Can it be so?
That then when first we met his love did change?
It is not so, and his own lips shall speak
And say 'tis false, or else I shall go mad.
(Enter Lancelot.)
GUINEVERE.
Ah, thou art here. Why is thy mind so bent
To leave the court? The King would know the cause.
Think'st thou, because thy favour stands so high
In fame of earthly deeds, that thou shalt win
This heavenly crown?
LANCELOT.
Indeed, I think not so.
His eyes alone shall see that holy cup,
Whose soul stands clear of sin.
GUINEVERE.
What boots it then
To adventure all upon a hopeless quest?
LANCELOT.
Ay, hopeless, for I may not touch the goal.
Yet once, when I lay stricken nigh to death,
By this same vessel of the Sangrael
My hurt was cured; now, when my heart is pierced,
Though by no mortal stroke of sword or spear,
Perchance again that same sweet miracle
May heal my deeper wound.
GUINEVERE.
I know thy wound.
LANCELOT.
If that were so I should be shamed indeed!
GUINEVERE.
Indeed, 'tis so. Elaine was here but now.
I did not dream that all the world could show
So fair a maid. No marvel that thy heart
Is sick with love.
LANCELOT.
Madam, I love her not!
GUINEVERE.
Nay, that is false: think it no shame to own
What, in some angry fit, thy tongue denied.
LANCELOT.
My shame lies deeper, seeing I once vowed
A love that now lies dead.
GUINEVERE.
Elaine's soft eyes
Will find Love's tomb, and charm it back to life.
Go to her now, and plead thy suit again;
I'll warrant you will find her not too hard,
Your wooing is half done.
LANCELOT.
Urge me no more,
For here, by Heaven, I swear I love her not.
GUINEVERE.
Then wherefore wouldst thou enter on this quest?
LANCELOT.
Nay, madam, in thy pity, spare me that!
GUINEVERE.
I will be answered. Am I not thy Queen?
LANCELOT.
Thou art indeed, and therefore hast thy will!
I had thought to pass away and leave behind
The dear remembrance of thy loyal love
I once deserved. But now that too has gone,
For thou wouldst wring the secret from my lips,
That brands me traitor.
GUINEVERE.
Traitor!
LANCELOT.
Aye! 'Tis true,
And thou hast known it, else thy gracious heart
Were not so pitiless: 'twas for this I've seen
Those veiled eyes cloak the hate they scorned to tell,
When, by some evil chance, their gaze met mine;
For this thy gentle smile took sudden flight
When I passed by.
GUINEVERE.
No! No! No more, no more!
LANCELOT.
Nay, madam, drink thy vengeance to the fill.
I leave the court because I love its Queen!
(Flings himself at her feet.)
GUINEVERE.
I did not hear thee; speak that word again.
LANCELOT.
Ay, once again, I love thee; all my shame
Lies naked at thy feet; I do but crave
That here my life may end.
GUINEVERE.
Nay, do not rise.
There's something I would say, yet know not how;
For if thy life must end, then so must mine.
You cannot guess my shame.
LANCELOT.
Thou hast no shame,
Save that which my base love hath laid on thee!
GUINEVERE.
Indeed I have: oft when we kneel and pray,
Before God's image bleeding on the Cross,
We cheat our souls, for our vain hearts still seek
The manhood not the God: 'twas so with me.
That hour when Arthur came, it seemed as though
Christ's hand had beckoned, and I knelt to him,
And, in the mist of worship, thought I saw,
The wingèd heart of love. But when you came,
His great ambassador from Camelot,
I saw Love's heart indeed, and knew I loved –
But not the King.
LANCELOT.
What sayest thou? Not the King?
Wouldst make me mad!
GUINEVERE.
Ah me, that home-coming
When we two rode in silence side by side,
And all my heart was hungry for a word!
The blossoms of the springtime turned to flame –
And yet you spoke not; now it is too late. (She moves away.)
LANCELOT
(Rising.) No, not too late, unless those lips are false.
Ah, hear me now – thou wouldst have heard me then –
My lonely love I could have borne alone,
Counting this mortal life too short a term
Of exile for my sin: but now that's past,
And, through the darkness, like a sudden star,
Thy heart stands clear, lighting our sweeter way.
Nay, do not turn thy face, thou knowest 'tis so.
Love speaks at last – and Love will be obeyed.
(He moves towards her, and she turns as if to yield to his embrace when the chaunt of the Knights breaks forth again, and the movement is arrested.)
KNIGHTS.
Look not to thy love,
Love that lives an hour;
Heaven's voice above
Calls thee from her bower.
Rise, and go forth, with us who seek the Grail,
Winning from above
Love that shall not fail.
GUINEVERE.
Yea, truth, 'tis love that speaks! But not our love,
The love of Heaven, of honour, and of – him.
KNIGHTS.
Rise, and go forth, with us who seek the Grail,
Winning from above
Love that shall not fail.
GUINEVERE.
It is their voice that calls, and thou wilt go.
I thought to hold thee here – I may not now.
LANCELOT.
My shame is dumb; yet, in thy purer heart,
I may find grace to save what still remains
Of my wrecked soul: my trust stands all in thee.
GUINEVERE.
Nay, trust thyself.
LANCELOT.
Thy words must be my law.
GUINEVERE.
Wait not for that, a woman is too weak
To guard what's best in what she loves the best.
We shall not speak again. (Exits.)
LANCELOT.
Ay, once again,
When from thy lips shall come the dread command
That sends me hence; and like a flaming sword
Love bars the gate of this new paradise
Which love hath won; yet through the desert night
Of life's long pilgrimage, one star shall stay,
And when death comes at last, to end our quest,
My fainting heart shall quicken at the thought,
'Twas thou didst bid me go.
King Arthur: A Drama in a Prologue and Four Acts (Act II) by J. Comyns Carr, music by Sir Arthur Sullivan (1895)
GUINEVERE.
The wood is dark. Let us be in the sun.
LANCELOT.
'Twas dark ere yet the glory of thy face
Came, like a golden message from the sun.
And now, beneath this open vault of day,
'Twould change again to night wert thou not here.
GUINEVERE.
I had a foolish fear I should not find thee.
LANCELOT.
Nay, Guinevere, thou knowest that could not be.
GUINEVERE.
Indeed, 'tis true, for wandering alone
Across the leafy screen that hedged my way,
From every side I heard the echoing laugh
Of Love's encounter. Then the wood grew still,
And, softer than the silence, came the sound
Of whispered vows from lips but newly met;
And then, beneath an opening arch of green,
Two lovers passed, with hand in hand locked close.
Ah, Lancelot! I was lonely as a child
Locked in a darkened room. I called thee then;
Didst thou not hear me?
LANCELOT.
Ay, and saw thee, too.
GUINEVERE.
Thou didst not answer?
LANCELOT.
Nay, forgive me, sweet!
I could but watch thee.
GUINEVERE.
That was cruel, sir.
LANCELOT.
'Twas but an instant.
GUINEVERE.
No, it was a year!
And in that year a thousand thronging fears
With devil faces perched amid the boughs.
LANCELOT.
What were thy fears?
GUINEVERE.
So many all in one:
That I should lose thee.
(Lancelot putting his arms round her.)
LANCELOT.
Never, until death.
GUINEVERE.
Ah, speak not so of death! I have seen a face
That frighted me like death.
LANCELOT.
(Starting.) Whose face and where?
GUINEVERE.
Within the wood. 'Twas Merlin's, but so old,
Lancelot, so old and worn I knew it not.
LANCELOT.
Those empty words of his do haunt thee still.
I wonder at thy fears.
GUINEVERE.
Nay, scold me not.
There's nothing haunts me when I have thee near.
Love shuts the door on all things save itself,
On all that's past and all that is to come
When thou art by! Tell me, 'tis so with thee?
LANCELOT.
Ay, sweet, 'tis so.
GUINEVERE.
Ah, say it once again!
I could not live, Lancelot, if in thy heart
There lurked the tiniest little ache or pain
Love might not cure.
LANCELOT.
Thou knowest all my heart;
And in my love, which knows no law but love,
The future and the past are drowning straws
Caught in the full tide of our present joy,
That neither ebbs nor flows.
(He holds her in a close embrace as Morgan and Mordred enter stealthily; at the same time is heard the sound of distant thunder, and the scene darkens.)
MORGAN.
Dost mark them well?
LANCELOT.
Ambition, honour, duty, all that life
Once held most dear, by thy sweet will subdued,
Now wear Love's livery and would serve Love's Queen.
(The thunder is heard again and nearer.)
GUINEVERE
(Starting.) What sound was that? See, it grows dark again!
LANCELOT.
'Tis but a cloud.
GUINEVERE.
It came like sudden night.
Let us go in. (Thunder again.) Ah, 'tis the thunder's bolt
That cracks the sky!
LANCELOT.
Nay, tremble not; 'twill pass
And leave Heaven's deeper blue. What shouldst thou fear?
GUINEVERE.
I know not. Hold me closer, closer still,
That so my heart may catch the fearless tune
Of thy heart's steadfast music. Now I am brave,
And could be always, wert thou always here,
So let us on. Yet tell me o'er again –
Ah, I do tease thee; 'tis but this once more –
Tell me, whate'er befall, that thou art mine!
LANCELOT.
For ever and for ever I am thine.
(A crash of thunder and a lightning flash. MORDRED looks after them.)
MORDRED.
He lies, my Queen; not thine, but mine till death!
The wood is dark. Let us be in the sun.
LANCELOT.
'Twas dark ere yet the glory of thy face
Came, like a golden message from the sun.
And now, beneath this open vault of day,
'Twould change again to night wert thou not here.
GUINEVERE.
I had a foolish fear I should not find thee.
LANCELOT.
Nay, Guinevere, thou knowest that could not be.
GUINEVERE.
Indeed, 'tis true, for wandering alone
Across the leafy screen that hedged my way,
From every side I heard the echoing laugh
Of Love's encounter. Then the wood grew still,
And, softer than the silence, came the sound
Of whispered vows from lips but newly met;
And then, beneath an opening arch of green,
Two lovers passed, with hand in hand locked close.
Ah, Lancelot! I was lonely as a child
Locked in a darkened room. I called thee then;
Didst thou not hear me?
LANCELOT.
Ay, and saw thee, too.
GUINEVERE.
Thou didst not answer?
LANCELOT.
Nay, forgive me, sweet!
I could but watch thee.
GUINEVERE.
That was cruel, sir.
LANCELOT.
'Twas but an instant.
GUINEVERE.
No, it was a year!
And in that year a thousand thronging fears
With devil faces perched amid the boughs.
LANCELOT.
What were thy fears?
GUINEVERE.
So many all in one:
That I should lose thee.
(Lancelot putting his arms round her.)
LANCELOT.
Never, until death.
GUINEVERE.
Ah, speak not so of death! I have seen a face
That frighted me like death.
LANCELOT.
(Starting.) Whose face and where?
GUINEVERE.
Within the wood. 'Twas Merlin's, but so old,
Lancelot, so old and worn I knew it not.
LANCELOT.
Those empty words of his do haunt thee still.
I wonder at thy fears.
GUINEVERE.
Nay, scold me not.
There's nothing haunts me when I have thee near.
Love shuts the door on all things save itself,
On all that's past and all that is to come
When thou art by! Tell me, 'tis so with thee?
LANCELOT.
Ay, sweet, 'tis so.
GUINEVERE.
Ah, say it once again!
I could not live, Lancelot, if in thy heart
There lurked the tiniest little ache or pain
Love might not cure.
LANCELOT.
Thou knowest all my heart;
And in my love, which knows no law but love,
The future and the past are drowning straws
Caught in the full tide of our present joy,
That neither ebbs nor flows.
(He holds her in a close embrace as Morgan and Mordred enter stealthily; at the same time is heard the sound of distant thunder, and the scene darkens.)
MORGAN.
Dost mark them well?
LANCELOT.
Ambition, honour, duty, all that life
Once held most dear, by thy sweet will subdued,
Now wear Love's livery and would serve Love's Queen.
(The thunder is heard again and nearer.)
GUINEVERE
(Starting.) What sound was that? See, it grows dark again!
LANCELOT.
'Tis but a cloud.
GUINEVERE.
It came like sudden night.
Let us go in. (Thunder again.) Ah, 'tis the thunder's bolt
That cracks the sky!
LANCELOT.
Nay, tremble not; 'twill pass
And leave Heaven's deeper blue. What shouldst thou fear?
GUINEVERE.
I know not. Hold me closer, closer still,
That so my heart may catch the fearless tune
Of thy heart's steadfast music. Now I am brave,
And could be always, wert thou always here,
So let us on. Yet tell me o'er again –
Ah, I do tease thee; 'tis but this once more –
Tell me, whate'er befall, that thou art mine!
LANCELOT.
For ever and for ever I am thine.
(A crash of thunder and a lightning flash. MORDRED looks after them.)
MORDRED.
He lies, my Queen; not thine, but mine till death!
King Arthur: A Drama in a Prologue and Four Acts (Act III) by J. Comyns Carr, music by Sir Arthur Sullivan (1895)
GUINEVERE.
Who went from thee?
LANCELOT.
'Twas Mordred.
GUINEVERE
(Approaching him.) Lancelot,
Some evil hath befallen!
LANCELOT.
'Tis naught. (He turns away.)
GUINEVERE.
'Tis much
Can make thee turn from me, ah, but I'll know it!
Didst thou not swear our love should cure all ill?
Then tell me all.
LANCELOT.
Caerleon is besieged;
Should succour fail 'twill yield to Ryons' arms.
GUINEVERE.
Who brings these tidings?
LANCELOT.
Mordred.
GUINEVERE.
And the King?
LANCELOT.
Knows naught.
GUINEVERE.
(With sudden horror.) Knows naught? Lancelot, ah no! Ah no!
Sure thou wouldst tell the King.
LANCELOT.
Indeed I would.
GUINEVERE.
Then wherefore pause?
LANCELOT.
Oh, had I died but then,
In that sweet hour when first I learned thy love,
I had been happy!
GUINEVERE.
What is in thy heart?
LANCELOT.
Mordred is false.
GUINEVERE.
False?
LANCELOT.
Ay, 'tis he that's hatched
This plot against the King whereby he thinks
To seize the throne.
GUINEVERE.
Then thou shalt prove him false
And save the King.
LANCELOT.
I dare not.
GUINEVERE.
Dare not?
LANCELOT.
No:
All, all is known.
GUINEVERE.
To whom?
LANCELOT.
To him; he was there
Beside us in the may; his trait'rous hand
Grips at my throat and makes me traitor too.
GUINEVERE.
No, no, that cannot be. Ah, look not so!
What wouldst thou do?
LANCELOT.
Nay, ask what have I done?
Was there no lamp in Heaven to stay our feet,
Was the night starless, that we needs must wait
Till love's torch, setting all the world ablaze,
Lights up love's ruinous way? Ah, Guinevere,
I'd die a hundred deaths but now to win
One hour of life that's past; ay, one short hour,
So I might drag this devil to the throne
And shout his villainies in every ear.
GUINEVERE.
Then do it now.
LANCELOT.
I cannot.
GUINEVERE.
Yea, thou canst!
Who is there that should stay thee, 'tis not I!
Let love go down the wind, what boots it now?
Look to thyself, think not of all that is lost.
That is all mine: there still remains
Thy soldier's honour, take it, keep it pure.
LANCELOT.
What have I said?
GUINEVERE.
Ah, go! (Throws herself on the couch.)
LANCELOT.
(Throwing himself at her feet.) My Queen! My Queen!
There's nothing in the world to win or lose
Can count beside thy love. I lied but now;
King, honour, country, all that knighthood boasts
Of faith and loyalty in life or death
Weighs not against the memory of one kiss
From thy dear lips.
GUINEVERE.
Then thou art mine again.
To hear thee say that all the world was naught
Against our love hath made me mad for joy.
Yet stay not now; I have a thought to think
And needs must be alone.
LANCELOT.
Yet, ere I go,
Hear this one word, all that is left of life
Is thine to keep or thine to fling away,
So I may have thy love. (Exits.)
GUINEVERE.
Thou hast, indeed!
So all is won again, and all is lost!
So do we strive that we may have the more
To cast away: and now, when at my feet
He lays his sword, his life, ay, and his soul,
I do but long to find some better way
To give him all again; ay, all again! (Looks off.)
It is the King. How may I find that way?
Who went from thee?
LANCELOT.
'Twas Mordred.
GUINEVERE
(Approaching him.) Lancelot,
Some evil hath befallen!
LANCELOT.
'Tis naught. (He turns away.)
GUINEVERE.
'Tis much
Can make thee turn from me, ah, but I'll know it!
Didst thou not swear our love should cure all ill?
Then tell me all.
LANCELOT.
Caerleon is besieged;
Should succour fail 'twill yield to Ryons' arms.
GUINEVERE.
Who brings these tidings?
LANCELOT.
Mordred.
GUINEVERE.
And the King?
LANCELOT.
Knows naught.
GUINEVERE.
(With sudden horror.) Knows naught? Lancelot, ah no! Ah no!
Sure thou wouldst tell the King.
LANCELOT.
Indeed I would.
GUINEVERE.
Then wherefore pause?
LANCELOT.
Oh, had I died but then,
In that sweet hour when first I learned thy love,
I had been happy!
GUINEVERE.
What is in thy heart?
LANCELOT.
Mordred is false.
GUINEVERE.
False?
LANCELOT.
Ay, 'tis he that's hatched
This plot against the King whereby he thinks
To seize the throne.
GUINEVERE.
Then thou shalt prove him false
And save the King.
LANCELOT.
I dare not.
GUINEVERE.
Dare not?
LANCELOT.
No:
All, all is known.
GUINEVERE.
To whom?
LANCELOT.
To him; he was there
Beside us in the may; his trait'rous hand
Grips at my throat and makes me traitor too.
GUINEVERE.
No, no, that cannot be. Ah, look not so!
What wouldst thou do?
LANCELOT.
Nay, ask what have I done?
Was there no lamp in Heaven to stay our feet,
Was the night starless, that we needs must wait
Till love's torch, setting all the world ablaze,
Lights up love's ruinous way? Ah, Guinevere,
I'd die a hundred deaths but now to win
One hour of life that's past; ay, one short hour,
So I might drag this devil to the throne
And shout his villainies in every ear.
GUINEVERE.
Then do it now.
LANCELOT.
I cannot.
GUINEVERE.
Yea, thou canst!
Who is there that should stay thee, 'tis not I!
Let love go down the wind, what boots it now?
Look to thyself, think not of all that is lost.
That is all mine: there still remains
Thy soldier's honour, take it, keep it pure.
LANCELOT.
What have I said?
GUINEVERE.
Ah, go! (Throws herself on the couch.)
LANCELOT.
(Throwing himself at her feet.) My Queen! My Queen!
There's nothing in the world to win or lose
Can count beside thy love. I lied but now;
King, honour, country, all that knighthood boasts
Of faith and loyalty in life or death
Weighs not against the memory of one kiss
From thy dear lips.
GUINEVERE.
Then thou art mine again.
To hear thee say that all the world was naught
Against our love hath made me mad for joy.
Yet stay not now; I have a thought to think
And needs must be alone.
LANCELOT.
Yet, ere I go,
Hear this one word, all that is left of life
Is thine to keep or thine to fling away,
So I may have thy love. (Exits.)
GUINEVERE.
Thou hast, indeed!
So all is won again, and all is lost!
So do we strive that we may have the more
To cast away: and now, when at my feet
He lays his sword, his life, ay, and his soul,
I do but long to find some better way
To give him all again; ay, all again! (Looks off.)
It is the King. How may I find that way?
Mordred: A Tragedy (Act I, Scene 2) by Henry Newbolt (1895)
Lancelot.
My Queen, I am come— (He stops abruptly.)
Guinevere.
Surely Sir Lancelot knows
Come for what cause he may, he is welcome here.
Lancelot.
Oh! say not that, not that; for I am come
To take farewell.
Guinevere.
Farewell?—I cannot — stay--
What wert thou saying? My head is tired to-night,
And thou wert strange and sudden.
Lancelot.
Yea, I am strange
Even to myself, most strange; and suddenness
Befits my purpose, that must do the deed
Before repentance wakes.
Guinevere.
Why, thou art distressed:
We'll sit awhile, and talk of this more calmly.
Come, let me guess; the king, it may be, needs
That his right hand should strike some distant wrong.
Is it so far distant?
Lancelot.
I must part to-night
For Joyous Gard.
Guinevere.
Ah, 'tis trouble calls thee home,
Not the king's service? Then some rebel knight,
Grudging thine overlordship, thinks it easy
To brave an absent prince; but thou'lt be gone
How long at most?
Lancelot.
I shall be gone the rest
Of all my life-days.
Guinevere.
Now may God defend thee!
But 'tis not like thy high victorious heart
To brood on danger.
Lancelot.
Alas! you know me not!
I have brooded long, too long, and now must fly
Lest worse befall than danger.
Guinevere.
Thou must fly?
When has thou fled? But stay—'tis hence thou goest;
The peril's here, then?
Lancelot.
Ay, most truly here,
Imminent—here and now!—farewell, my Queen,
Farewell, I dare not linger.
Guinevere (in a low voice).
Peril here?
I know not—what—thou sayest--
Lancelot.
You shall not know:
Only what's weakest in me could desire
That you should know: farewell!
Guinevere.
Stay, art thou not
Perchance too sudden, Lancelot, too resigned
To thine own weakness, when with patient craft
Or help of strong alliance, even yet
Thou might'st endure, and by enduring break
The onset of thy foes?
Lancelot.
Oh, stay me not!
God knows I have endured! What is there left,
What patience, what alliance?
Guinevere.
Mine! the queen's!
Lancelot.
Oh, mockery! most unguarded stroke of all!
Thy words against their merciful intent
Drive the steel deeper.
Guinevere.
Nay, Lancelot, hear me yet,
What if this secret enemy of thine
Threatened me too? What if my life with thine
Lay strangling in the toils, the self-same toils,
Wild with one hope and dumb with one despair?
Lancelot.
Guinevere! Guinevere! What hast thou said?
I dare not understand thee!
Guinevere.
Must my tongue
Cry it more loudly than my beating heart?
Can'st thou not read a woman's eyes?
Lancelot.
O Death!
Remember not my blind and faithless prayers,
Let not the end be yet!
Guinevere.
Ah, reckless heart!
How long before thou wilt repent again,
And crave Death's mercy-stroke? Forget thou not
Because a sudden gleam hath touched the world,
That 'tis but lightning, born of the storm itself,
And for a moment only cleaves the gloom
That deepens round us. Canst thou still endure
To grope in darkness, doubtful of the end,
With but a voice to guide thy faltering feet?
Lancelot.
My Queen—let storm-clouds gather as they will
Why should we stay to brave them? Far away
Lies Joyous Gard: there sleeps the windless sky,
There dreams the sunlit summer of our life.
Come, let us seek it: art thou silent still?
Why are thine eyes so rapt and so forlorn,
My Guinevere?
Guinevere.
Oh! Lancelot, call me not
By a false name: since I am Guinevere
I am not thine: if I were thine indeed
I were myself no more: which would'st thou have me,
Thine, or the woman thou hast known and loved?
Lancelot.
Nay, being mine thou shalt be most thyself.
How could'st thou truly live, when all these years
Thy will hath been another's? Not a rose
In all the forest comes to bud and bloom
—Her veriest life and being—till she 'scapes
The cold embrace of earth, and stretches forth
Free arms to the free air. I offer thee
—Nay, on my knees I humbly pray thee take--
The life thou owest to thy truer self,
The life thy soul desireth.
Guinevere.
Lancelot! Lancelot!
I am the king's—nay, hear me to the end,
I know thy thought—'tis true I was a child,
'Tis true that with a child's consent I gave
I knew not what, for that I did not need:
Yet did I pledge my troth; and therewithal
Took in return a true man's single faith,
And in my keeping ever since have held
His welfare and his peace.
Lancelot.
The bargain's nought!
'Twas blindfold: no man's bound by such a pact.
He, when he made it, thereby made it void
And took thee at his peril.
Guinevere.
Yet am I bound,
Not by my promise, if thou wilt, but still
By that which followed: how can I escape
The memory of his bounty?
Lancelot.
Oh, bethink thee,
Hast thou not said even now, he gave thee nought
But that thou did'st not need?
Guinevere.
Ah! but he gave!
And I accepted gladly: day by day,
Year after year, I have taken countless gifts--
His throne, the splendour of his name, a life
All-honoured, all-befriended and secure,
The constant service of his silent care,
And, greater still, to share his kingly thought
For the land's weal: thou canst not say that these,
These that I took, and learned at last to need,
Deserve no payment.
Lancelot.
They were more than paid
By grace of mere acceptance: thou hast given
Day after day, thou say'st, and year by year,
Gold for his silver--
Guinevere.
Lancelot, if 'twere so,
Yet is there more between the king and me
Than such exchange can ransom: when we wedded,
Ay, from the day when first he saw my face
And shrined it in his thought, he has kept for me
In sacred dedication, the one gift
That none can offer twice, the crown of love,
The undivided faith of body and soul.
Thou'rt silent—nay, I love thee but the more;
Some challenges no man may answer to
And not be tarnished. Oh! my peerless knight
Enforce my will with thine, and we'll contest
This praise with Arthur: Love's a noble name,
But Faith's a nobler: how can thou and I
Endure to lack it? What! Shall he be pure
And Guinevere break troth? Shall he be strong
And Lancelot falter? Nay, while Arthur's king,
King of himself, no less will I be queen,
And thou, his prince of comrades.
Lancelot.
Ha! by my life
There's more of knighthood in a woman's heart
Than the Round Table musters! Thou hast wrought
Passion itself to such a generous heat
That Love for Love's sake hath surrendered him
Exulting into thrall.
Guinevere.
There Lancelot spoke!
There rang the flawless shield! O lover mine,
Since we must part, I bless thee for the word
That makes the parting easier! Fare thee well:
I have crowned thee twice to-day: let me not live
To see thee less victorious.
Lancelot.
Fear it not!
My thought is as thy thought, and all my mind
Set to the measure of thy will. Farewell!
My Queen, I am come— (He stops abruptly.)
Guinevere.
Surely Sir Lancelot knows
Come for what cause he may, he is welcome here.
Lancelot.
Oh! say not that, not that; for I am come
To take farewell.
Guinevere.
Farewell?—I cannot — stay--
What wert thou saying? My head is tired to-night,
And thou wert strange and sudden.
Lancelot.
Yea, I am strange
Even to myself, most strange; and suddenness
Befits my purpose, that must do the deed
Before repentance wakes.
Guinevere.
Why, thou art distressed:
We'll sit awhile, and talk of this more calmly.
Come, let me guess; the king, it may be, needs
That his right hand should strike some distant wrong.
Is it so far distant?
Lancelot.
I must part to-night
For Joyous Gard.
Guinevere.
Ah, 'tis trouble calls thee home,
Not the king's service? Then some rebel knight,
Grudging thine overlordship, thinks it easy
To brave an absent prince; but thou'lt be gone
How long at most?
Lancelot.
I shall be gone the rest
Of all my life-days.
Guinevere.
Now may God defend thee!
But 'tis not like thy high victorious heart
To brood on danger.
Lancelot.
Alas! you know me not!
I have brooded long, too long, and now must fly
Lest worse befall than danger.
Guinevere.
Thou must fly?
When has thou fled? But stay—'tis hence thou goest;
The peril's here, then?
Lancelot.
Ay, most truly here,
Imminent—here and now!—farewell, my Queen,
Farewell, I dare not linger.
Guinevere (in a low voice).
Peril here?
I know not—what—thou sayest--
Lancelot.
You shall not know:
Only what's weakest in me could desire
That you should know: farewell!
Guinevere.
Stay, art thou not
Perchance too sudden, Lancelot, too resigned
To thine own weakness, when with patient craft
Or help of strong alliance, even yet
Thou might'st endure, and by enduring break
The onset of thy foes?
Lancelot.
Oh, stay me not!
God knows I have endured! What is there left,
What patience, what alliance?
Guinevere.
Mine! the queen's!
Lancelot.
Oh, mockery! most unguarded stroke of all!
Thy words against their merciful intent
Drive the steel deeper.
Guinevere.
Nay, Lancelot, hear me yet,
What if this secret enemy of thine
Threatened me too? What if my life with thine
Lay strangling in the toils, the self-same toils,
Wild with one hope and dumb with one despair?
Lancelot.
Guinevere! Guinevere! What hast thou said?
I dare not understand thee!
Guinevere.
Must my tongue
Cry it more loudly than my beating heart?
Can'st thou not read a woman's eyes?
Lancelot.
O Death!
Remember not my blind and faithless prayers,
Let not the end be yet!
Guinevere.
Ah, reckless heart!
How long before thou wilt repent again,
And crave Death's mercy-stroke? Forget thou not
Because a sudden gleam hath touched the world,
That 'tis but lightning, born of the storm itself,
And for a moment only cleaves the gloom
That deepens round us. Canst thou still endure
To grope in darkness, doubtful of the end,
With but a voice to guide thy faltering feet?
Lancelot.
My Queen—let storm-clouds gather as they will
Why should we stay to brave them? Far away
Lies Joyous Gard: there sleeps the windless sky,
There dreams the sunlit summer of our life.
Come, let us seek it: art thou silent still?
Why are thine eyes so rapt and so forlorn,
My Guinevere?
Guinevere.
Oh! Lancelot, call me not
By a false name: since I am Guinevere
I am not thine: if I were thine indeed
I were myself no more: which would'st thou have me,
Thine, or the woman thou hast known and loved?
Lancelot.
Nay, being mine thou shalt be most thyself.
How could'st thou truly live, when all these years
Thy will hath been another's? Not a rose
In all the forest comes to bud and bloom
—Her veriest life and being—till she 'scapes
The cold embrace of earth, and stretches forth
Free arms to the free air. I offer thee
—Nay, on my knees I humbly pray thee take--
The life thou owest to thy truer self,
The life thy soul desireth.
Guinevere.
Lancelot! Lancelot!
I am the king's—nay, hear me to the end,
I know thy thought—'tis true I was a child,
'Tis true that with a child's consent I gave
I knew not what, for that I did not need:
Yet did I pledge my troth; and therewithal
Took in return a true man's single faith,
And in my keeping ever since have held
His welfare and his peace.
Lancelot.
The bargain's nought!
'Twas blindfold: no man's bound by such a pact.
He, when he made it, thereby made it void
And took thee at his peril.
Guinevere.
Yet am I bound,
Not by my promise, if thou wilt, but still
By that which followed: how can I escape
The memory of his bounty?
Lancelot.
Oh, bethink thee,
Hast thou not said even now, he gave thee nought
But that thou did'st not need?
Guinevere.
Ah! but he gave!
And I accepted gladly: day by day,
Year after year, I have taken countless gifts--
His throne, the splendour of his name, a life
All-honoured, all-befriended and secure,
The constant service of his silent care,
And, greater still, to share his kingly thought
For the land's weal: thou canst not say that these,
These that I took, and learned at last to need,
Deserve no payment.
Lancelot.
They were more than paid
By grace of mere acceptance: thou hast given
Day after day, thou say'st, and year by year,
Gold for his silver--
Guinevere.
Lancelot, if 'twere so,
Yet is there more between the king and me
Than such exchange can ransom: when we wedded,
Ay, from the day when first he saw my face
And shrined it in his thought, he has kept for me
In sacred dedication, the one gift
That none can offer twice, the crown of love,
The undivided faith of body and soul.
Thou'rt silent—nay, I love thee but the more;
Some challenges no man may answer to
And not be tarnished. Oh! my peerless knight
Enforce my will with thine, and we'll contest
This praise with Arthur: Love's a noble name,
But Faith's a nobler: how can thou and I
Endure to lack it? What! Shall he be pure
And Guinevere break troth? Shall he be strong
And Lancelot falter? Nay, while Arthur's king,
King of himself, no less will I be queen,
And thou, his prince of comrades.
Lancelot.
Ha! by my life
There's more of knighthood in a woman's heart
Than the Round Table musters! Thou hast wrought
Passion itself to such a generous heat
That Love for Love's sake hath surrendered him
Exulting into thrall.
Guinevere.
There Lancelot spoke!
There rang the flawless shield! O lover mine,
Since we must part, I bless thee for the word
That makes the parting easier! Fare thee well:
I have crowned thee twice to-day: let me not live
To see thee less victorious.
Lancelot.
Fear it not!
My thought is as thy thought, and all my mind
Set to the measure of thy will. Farewell!
Mordred: A Tragedy (Act II, Scene 5) by Henry Newbolt (1895)
(Enter Lancelot.)
Guinevere.
Not now!
Lancelot, not now! I pray thee, not one word,
Or I shall hate thee as I hate the rest.
Where is the king?
Lancelot.
I know not, 'tis scarcely yet
The hour appointed.
Guinevere.
Lancelot, I am distraught,
I know not dream from daylight. Was it in sleep
I heard the king's voice, sharp with agony
Outcrying, "I have slain her," and thy voice
That echoed, "I have slain her; yea, and I
Have sunk her, earth in earth?"
Lancelot.
Dearest lady mine,
Forget these midnight fears: here are no voices
But one high fluttering song that greets the dawn.
Is not the past well buried?
Guinevere.
I thought it so
A short hour since: that, too, was while I dreamed:
Now I am waking.
Lancelot.
Ay, waking to find
Thy best dreams true.
Guinevere.
No, lull me not with hope,
Let me have truth and rue it. What's their tale
Of Arthur's guilt? The yelp of Gawaine's pack
That see the lash descending! What's thy promise
Of love and freedom? Gold from fairyland,
Scattered at sunrise with the whirling leaves!
Lancelot.
How canst thou say so? Let me tell thee again
Even as I heard it--
Guinevere.
No! no! tell me nought
But how to win back peace, and the old dull pain
That I had learned to live with. Let me go
Before my strength break!
Lancelot.
Guinevere! dear heart,
'Tis but an hour, one hour. Ha! they are coming!
Guinevere.
Not now!
Lancelot, not now! I pray thee, not one word,
Or I shall hate thee as I hate the rest.
Where is the king?
Lancelot.
I know not, 'tis scarcely yet
The hour appointed.
Guinevere.
Lancelot, I am distraught,
I know not dream from daylight. Was it in sleep
I heard the king's voice, sharp with agony
Outcrying, "I have slain her," and thy voice
That echoed, "I have slain her; yea, and I
Have sunk her, earth in earth?"
Lancelot.
Dearest lady mine,
Forget these midnight fears: here are no voices
But one high fluttering song that greets the dawn.
Is not the past well buried?
Guinevere.
I thought it so
A short hour since: that, too, was while I dreamed:
Now I am waking.
Lancelot.
Ay, waking to find
Thy best dreams true.
Guinevere.
No, lull me not with hope,
Let me have truth and rue it. What's their tale
Of Arthur's guilt? The yelp of Gawaine's pack
That see the lash descending! What's thy promise
Of love and freedom? Gold from fairyland,
Scattered at sunrise with the whirling leaves!
Lancelot.
How canst thou say so? Let me tell thee again
Even as I heard it--
Guinevere.
No! no! tell me nought
But how to win back peace, and the old dull pain
That I had learned to live with. Let me go
Before my strength break!
Lancelot.
Guinevere! dear heart,
'Tis but an hour, one hour. Ha! they are coming!
