Charles William Bailey - King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table - Part I - Gareth and Lynette lyrics

GARETH AND LYNETTE SCENE I Gareth and Queen Bellicent. A chair and a Book of Hours. Gareth [at his mother's knee]. Dear mother, tho' ye count me still the child, Sweet mother, do you love the child? Bellicent. Thou art but a wild-goose to ques­tion it. Gareth. Then, mother, an ye love the child, I say, Being a goose, and rather tame than wild, Hear the child's story. Bellicent. Yea, my well-beloved, An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs. Gareth. Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine Was finer gold than any goose can lay; For this an eagle, a royal Eagle, laid, Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours. And there was ever haunting round the palm A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw The splendour sparkling from aloft, and thought "An I could climb and lay my hand upon it, Then were I wealthier than a leash of kings." But ever when he reached a hand to climb, One that had loved him from his childhood caught And stay'd him, "Climb not, lest thou break thy neck, I charge thee by my love." And so the boy, Sweet mother, neither clomb nor brake his neck, But brake his very heart in pining for it, And past away. Bellicent. True love, sweet son, had risked him­self and climbed, And handed down the golden treasure to him. Gareth. Gold? Said I gold? Ay then, why he, or she, Or whosoe'er it was, or half the world Had ventured--had the thing I spake of been Mere gold--but this was all of that true steel, Whereof they forged the brand Excalibur, And lightnings played about it in the storm, And all the little fowl were flurried at it, And there were cries and clashings in the nest, That sent him from his senses: let me go. Bellicent. Hast thou no pity upon my loneliness? Stay, my best son! Ye are yet more boy than man. Gareth. O mother, How can ye keep me tether'd to you--shame. Man am I grown, a man's work must I do : Follow the deer? Follow the Christ, the King. Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King-- Else, wherefore born? Bellicent. Wilt thou leave Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all, Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King? Stay, till the cloud that settles round his birth Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet son. Gareth [quickly]. Not an hour, So that ye yield me--I will walk thro' fire, Mother, to gain it--your full leave to go. Not proven, who swept the dust of ruin'd Rome From off the threshold of the realm, and crush'd The Idolaters, and made the people free? Who should be King save him who makes us free? Bellicent. Will ye walk thro' fire? Who walks thro' fire will hardly heed the smoke. Ay, go then, an ye must: only one proof, Before thou ask the King to make thee knight, Of thine obedience and thy love to me, Thy rnother--I demand. Gareth. A hard one or a hundred, so I go. Nay--quick! the proof to prove me to the quick! Bellicent [slowly]. Prince, thou shalt go dis­guised to Arthur's hall, And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks Among the scullions and the kitchen-knaves, And those that hand the dish across the bar; Nor shalt thou tell thy name to anyone, And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a day. Gareth [after a pauseJ. The thrall in person may be free in soul, And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I, And since thou art my mother, must obey. I therefore yield me freely to thy will; For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself To serve with scullions and with kitchen-knaves, Nor tell my name to any--no, not the King. CURTAIN (quickly) SCENE II At the gate of Camelot. Servant. Lord, the gateway is alive. [Strains of music.] Seer. Who be you, my sons? Gareth. We be tillers of the soil, Who leaving 'share in furrow corne to see The glories of our King: but these my men (Your city moved so weirdly in the mist) Doubt if the King be King at all, or come From Fairyland, and whether this be built By magic, and by fairy kings and queens; Or whether there be any city at all, Or all a vision: and this music now Hath scared them both. But tell thou these the truth. Seer. Son, I have seen the good ship sail Keel upward and mast downward in the heavens, And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air; And here is truth: but an it please thee not, Take thou the truth as thou hast told it me, For truly, as thou sayest, a fairy king And fairy queens have built the city, son; They came from out a sacred mountain-cleft Toward the sunrise, each with harp in hand, And built it to the music of their harps. And, as thou sayest, it is enchanted, son. For there is nothing in it, as it seems, Saving the King: tho' some there be that hold The King a shadow, and the city real: Yet take thou heed of him, for, so thou pa** Beneath this archway, then wilt thou become A thrall to his enchantments, for the King Will bind thee by such vows, as is a shame A man should not be bound by. Yet the which No man can keep; but so thou dread to swear, Pa** not beneath this gateway, but abide Without, among the cattle of the field. For an ye heard a music, like enow They are building still, seeing the city is built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built for ever. Gareth. Old master, reverence thine own beard, That looks as white as utter truth, and seems Well nigh as long as thou art statured tall. Why mockest thou the stranger that hath been To thee fair-spoken? Seer. Know ye not then the Riddling of the Bards? "Confusion, and illusion, and relation, Elusion, and occasion, and evasion" ? I mock thee not but as thou mockest me, And all that see thee, for thou art not who Thou seemest, but I know thee who thou art. [Goes off.] [Gareth and comrades enter Camelot, laughing.] SCENE III In Arthur's hall. [Arthur and Guinevere seated on throne. Knights and ladies present.] [Enter a Widow, crying.] Widow. A boon, Sir King! Thy father, Uther, reft From my dear lord a field with violence: For howsoe'er at first he proffered gold, Yet, for the field was pleasant in our eyes, We yielded not; and then he reft us of it Perforce, and left us neither gold nor field. Arthur. Whether would ye? Gold or field? Widow. Nay, my lord, The field was pleasant in my husband's eye. Arthur. Have thy pleasant field again, And thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof, According to the years. No boon is here, But justice, so thy say be proven true. Accursed, who from the wrongs his father did Would shape himself a right. [Enter another Widow, shrilling.] Second Widow. A boon, Sir King! Thine enemy, King, am I. With thine own hand thou slewest my dear lord, A knight of Uther in the Barons' war, When Lot and many another rose and fought Against thee, saying thou wert basely born. I held with these, and loathe to ask thee aught. Yet lo! my husband's brother had my son Thrall'd in his castle, and hath starved him dead; And standeth seized of that inheritance Which thou that slewest the sire hast left the son. So tho' I scarce can ask it thee for hate, Grant me some knight to do the battle for me, k** the foul thief, and wreak me for my son. A Knight. A boon, Sir King! I am her kins­man, I. Give me to right her wrong, and slay the man. Sir Kay, the Seneschal. A boon, Sir King! ev'n that thou grant her none, This railer, that hath mocked thee in full hall­-- None: or the wholesome boon of gyve and gag. Arthur. We sit King, to help the wronged Thro' all our realm. The woman loves her lord. Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves and hates. . . . Thou that art her kin, Go forthwith, lay him low and slay him not, But bring him here, that I may judge the right. [Enter a messenger of King Mark of Cornwall, with a cloth of gold.] Messenger [kneeling before the throne]. King Mark of Cornwall, may it please you, sire, Is even on his way to Camelot: For having heard that you, sire, of your grace, Have made his goodly cousin, Tristram, knight, And, for himself is of the greater state, Being a king, he now trusts his liege-lord Will yield him this large honour all the more; So prays you well to accept this cloth of gold, In token of true heart and fealty. Arthur [tearing the cloth to pieces). The goodly knight! What! Shall the shield of Mark stand among these? More like are we to reave him of his crown Than make him knight because men call him king. But Mark hath tarnished the great name of king, As Mark would sully the low state of churl; And seeing he hath sent us cloth of gold, Return and meet and hold him from our eyes, Lest we should lap him up in cloth of lead. No fault of thine: let Kay the Seneschal Look to thy wants and send thee satisfied. [Enter Gareth and his two companions.] Gareth. A boon, Sir King! For see ye not how weak and hunger-worn I seem--leaning on these? Grant me to serve For meat and drink among thy kitchen-knaves A twelvemonth and a day, nor seek my name. Hereafter I will fight. Arthur. A goodly youth and worth a goodlier boon! But so thou wilt no goodlier, then must Kay, The master of the meats and drinks, be thine. [King, Queen, and attendants go out.] Kay. Lo, ye now! This fellow hath broken from some Abbey, where, God wot, he had not beef and brewis enow, However that might chance! But an he work, Like any pigeon will I cram his crop, And sleeker shall he shine than any hog. Lancelot. Sir Seneschal, Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and grey, and all the hounds; A horse thou knowest, a man thou dost not know; Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair and fine, High nose, a nostril large and fine, and hands Large, fair and fine! Some young lad's mystery. But, or from sheepfold or king's hall, the boy Is noble-natured. Treat him with all grace, Lest he should come to shame thy judging of him. Kay. What murmurest thou of mystery? Think ye this fellow will poison the King's dish? Nay, for he spake too fool-like: mystery! Tut, an the lad were noble, he had ask'd For horse and armour: fair and fine, forsooth! Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands? But see thou to it That thine own fineness, Lancelot, some fine day Undo thee not--and leave my man to me. SCENE IV King Arthur and Gareth. Gareth. I have staggered thy strong Gawain in a tilt For pastime; yea, he said it: joust can I. Make me thy knight--in secret! Let my name Be hidd'n, and give me the first quest, I spring Like flame from ashes. [Bows lowly, and kisses the King's hand.] Arthur. Son, the good mother let me know thee here, And sent her wish that I would yield thee thine. Make thee my knight? My knights are sworn to vows Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness, And, loving, utter faithfulness in love, And uttermost obedience to the king. Gareth [lightly rising]. My King, for hardihood I can promise thee. For uttermost obedience make demand Of whom ye gave me to, the Seneschal, No mellow master of the meats and drinks! And as for love, God wot, I love not yet, But love I shall, God willing. Arthur. Make thee my knight in secret? Yea, but he, Our noblest brother and our truest man, And one with me in all, he needs must know. Gareth. Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lance­lot know, Thy noblest and thy truest. Arthur. But wherefore would ye that men should wonder at you? Nay, rather for the sake of me, their King, And the deed's sake my knighthood do the deed, Than to be noised of. Gareth. Have I not earn'd my cake in baking of it? Let be my name until I make my name. My deeds shall speak: it is but for a day. SCENE V King Arthur's hall [King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Knights, Ladies, Citizens.] [Enter Lynette.] Lynette. O King, for thou hast driven the foe without, See to the foe within! bridge, ford, beset By bandits, every one that owns a tower The lord for half a league. Why sit ye there? Rest would I not, Sir King, an I were King, Till ev'n the lonest hold were all as free From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar-cloth From that best blood it is a sin to spill. Arthur. Comfort thyself, I pray thee, I nor mine Rest: so my knighthood keep the vows they swore, The wastest moorland of our realm shall be Safe, damsel, as the centre of this hall. What is thy name? thy need? Lynette. My name? O King, Lynette my name; noble; my need, a knight To combat for my sister, Lyonors, A lady of high lineage, of great lands, And comely, yea, and comelier than myself. She lives in Castle Perilous: a river Runs in three loops about her living-place; And o'er it are three pa**ings, and three knights Defend the pa**ings, brethren, and a fourth, And of that four the mightiest, holds her stay'd In her own castle, and so besieges her To break her will, and make her wed with him; And delays his purport till thou send To do the battle with him thy chief man Sir Lancelot, whom he trusts to overthrow, Then wed, with glory: but she will not wed Save whom she loveth, or a holy life. Now therefore have I come for Lancelot. Gareth. A boon, Sir King--this quest! [Kay groans.] Yea, King, thou knowest thy kitchen-knave am I, And mighty thro' thy meats and drinks am I, And I can topple over a hundred such. Thy promise, King! Arthur. Rough, sudden, And pardonable, worthy to be knight­-- Go, therefore. Lynette [lifting her arms]. Fie on thee, King! I ask'd for thy chief knight, And thou hast given me but a kitchen-knave. [Gareth looses cloak; appears as knight. Popu­lace cheer: "God bless the King and all his fellowship."]