J. Comyns Carr - King Arthur - Act I lyrics

ACT I THE HOLY GRAIL. SCENE: – The Great Hall at Camelot. A wide opening breast high at the back, flanked by marble columns, through which is seen a view of blue hills against a sunset sky. Sir Kay, Sir Agravaine, and Sir Bedevere, to whom enters Sir Lancelot. KAY. Sir Lancelot, this falls well: of late our King Hath ofttimes asked for thee, and thou shalt learn The noise of thy great deeds hath far outstripped Thy good steed's swiftest course: waiting thee here To swell love's welcome home. What news from Wales? LANCELOT. In Wales men speak in whispers; yet 'tis known That Ryons, lately joined in secret league With Mark of Cornwall, doth but wait the hour To strike at Arthur's throne. AGRAVAINE. This news comes pat; Not three days past, deep in the belt of wood That circles round Caerleon's clustering towers, Sir Gawaine's huntsmen chanced upon two spies, Who now lie fast in chains. KAY. And at this hour The King holds council, and shall straight declare If they may live or die. AGRAVAINE. Should Gawaine speak And Arthur listen they were dead ere night. GAWAINE. That is most sure. LANCELOT. Which way doth Mordred tend? AGRAVAINE. Truth, that were hard to tell! his subtle tongue Still weaves a web to catch the thought of others And hide his own. LANCELOT. nd what then saith the King? KAY. He waits upon the word of Guinevere. GAWAINE. I dare be sworn this thing hath troubled him. KAY. What should he fear though Mark and Ryons, joined With all the hosts of Cornwall and of Wales, Knocked at our gates. LANCELOT. Nay, sirs, he knows not fear, Whose warrior heart was bred where spears have grown Thick as the river reeds. Yet in that heart Dwells a fond nursling hope this news will slay; For since the coming of Queen Guinevere The sword Excalibur hath hung at rest Within its j**elled scabbard, and he dreamed The lust of blood was past. KAY. Would that were all! King Arthur grieves, but 'tis with graver cause. LANCELOT. What cause? KAY. What cause! GAWAINE. In truth we do forget. Sir Lancelot knows not that at vesper time A hundred knights of Arthur's fellowship Take a long leave of Camelot and the King. LANCELOT. Bound on what quest? KAY. No earthly quest is theirs Who've ta'en a vow to seek the Holy Grail. LANCELOT. To seek the Grail! now, sirs, you mock at me! For who, of mortal born, shall hope to find, Searching through all the world, that holy cup Charged with Christ's blood? That cup no eye hath seen Since long ago to this White Isle 'twas borne By Joseph, who had filled it at the Cross. What Heaven hath hid no man may dare to seek, Save by a sign from Heaven. KAY. Heaven's sign hath come In miracle and wonder: three nights past – When all our company were sat at meat – Above the murmur of the feast there leapt The crack and cry of thunder, and the roof Was cloven as with a sword: then down the hall, Aslant upon a bar of light that gleamed As though the sun were turned to molten gold, Pa**ed a white angel, bearing in her hands The sacred vision of the cup of Christ. LANCELOT. What like was it to see? During the following speech the hall darkens. KAY. That none may tell, For, dimly veilèd in a cloth of white, It went as it had come, unseen of all. Yet while it pa**ed it left, though none knew how, The witness of its presence in men's eyes: And, dumbly gazing, each in other found The stamp of some new glory; then uprose Our youngest knight, Sir Percival, and cried: "Now thanks for what hath been and what shall be! For here I vow to rest not till these eyes Have openly beheld the cup itself!" And, as one note at dawn will wake the woods, Voice after voice re-echoed Percival's, Till, one by one, a hundred of our knights Had joined themselves unto this holy quest. LANCELOT. If this be so – GAWAINE. Why, sir, 'twas in this hall! KAY. And close upon this hour. A peal of thunder is heard, followed by a lightning flash. LANCELOT. What cry was that? KAY. Nay, see, 'tis here again. As he speaks, a slanting ray of light falls through the hall, enfolding the form of a maiden bearing the cup, from the centre of which a red light strikes like a star through the transparent veil that covers it. Sir Lancelot kneels as the vision pa**es and disappears. LANCELOT. Ah, go not yet! 'Tis gone! and did mine eyes not vouch 'twas here, I'd say it was a dream; for never yet Hath mortal vision gazed on aught so fair! Didst thou not note how all the air was filled With sweetest odours? GAWAINE. So it was before. KAY. Said we not truth? LANCELOT [rising]. Ay, and by this I know That age of marvels, long ago foretold By Merlin, when he built our Table Round, Hath come at last; and we who live to-day Shall witness wonders great and terrible Shaking the earth, until that happier hour When he whom God hath chosen of us all With mortal eyes shall pierce Heaven's mystery, And see the Grail itself. GAWAINE. 'Twas said last night, That he alone shall win this saving grace, Whose heart stands clean of sin. LANCELOT. Ay, sir, 'tis so. And he alone who wills it so can pierce The secrets of our hearts! Not all may win, Yet straining at the goal there's none can lose The grace that comes of strife. Mordred has entered unseen during the last speech, carrying a scroll in his hand. MORDRED. How now, Sir Knights, Ye do forget the hour! Have ye not heard That they whose names are duly here enrolled, Bound by their vows to seek the Holy Grail, Within a breathing space shall take their leave Of Arthur and his Court? LANCELOT. I pray you, sir, Of your good grace add my name to the roll. MORDRED. Hast thou considered well? LANCELOT. My lord, I have, And shall be ready when the list is called. Exit Lancelot. MORDRED [half to himself]. So Lancelot goes! KAY. I dare be sworn he will not, Nay, though his oath were loudest of them all, Yet Arthur's love will hold. MORDRED [turning fiercely upon Kay]. Who dares speak So gross a treason 'gainst our lord the King? In truth, Sir Kay, I thought thee worthier Of Arthur's love. KAY. Nay, sir, I did but think That Lancelot, who is worthier than us all, Would go or stay as that same love commands. MORDRED. And thou! and thou! yet think ye that the King Who loves him best and knows him worthiest, Would bid him break his vow? Now, hark'e, sirs: Ye know not him ye worship, and your praise Is but a vapour that doth hide the sun, But ye shall know him! Nay, sirs, tarry not, But see that all is ready for the King. KAY. Be sure, my lord, we shall not fail the King. Exeunt Kay and other Knights. MORDRED [alone]. Yea, Arthur's love would hold him, but it shall not. Lancelot shall go, and, in that vacant seat Where now his heart sits guardian to the King, Envenomed hate shall keep a closer watch. Lancelot shall go. Enter Morgan. Ah! mother, thou art here. What saith the Queen? MORGAN. She doth attend the council. MORDRED. And her voice? MORGAN. Is tuned to plead for mercy. MORDRED. 'Tis well, for Arthur heeds no voice save hers. These dogs whose tongues I feared will now go free. MORGAN. Then tell me, boy, what tidings did they bear? MORDRED. The gathered hosts of Cornwall and of Wales Wait but my sign. MORGAN. They shall not wait for long. The year grows green, and May-day comes again – Day of thy birth, and day of Arthur's doom. MORDRED. Of Arthur's doom? MORGAN. Ay, for 'twas so foretold, Ere yet thine eyes had opened on the world, That he whose hand should strike at Arthur's heart On May-day must be born. And thou art he, For in thy veins an avenging poison flows, Distilled in that dark hour when Merlin's lips Hailed Arthur as Pendragon's rightful heir, And left me ba*tard. MORDRED. Ay, yet one thing lacks: Think you, will Lancelot join this holy quest? MORGAN. What should you fear, though Lancelot go or stay? MORDRED. I fear, yet know not what – his loyal love Twines around Arthur like a coil of steel That turns the keenest edge. Yea, well I know That while Sir Lancelot stays, the King is safe. MORGAN. Thou fool! the King were safer if he went. MORDRED. What dost thou say? MORGAN. I say what thou shouldst know: The King doth love Sir Lancelot? MORDRED. Ay, too well! MORGAN. Too well, in truth, for next the King stands one Who loves him more than well. MORDRED. Not Guinevere? MORGAN. Ay, she! MORDRED. This is thy malice. MORGAN. Think'st thou so? Trust me, 'tis true – a woman hath no wiles To hide her secret from a woman's gaze, Whose eyes are never blindfold. Dost forget When the news came of Lancelot's heavy wound How she did weep and wail? MORDRED. So did the King. MORGAN. Ay, truth, so did the King, yet that's not all, For later, when the happier tidings came That, tended by Elaine, his wound was whole, Hadst thou but seen her then! The King made glad, But Guinevere's white lips could shape no smile. Her jealous heart was torn. MORDRED. If this be so, And Lancelot loves her too, then all are trapped! MORGAN. Nay, take it not from me, look for thyself. Herald's trumpet heard without. But see she comes, take heed and guard thy tongue. Enter Guinevere. MORDRED. Madam, what saith the King? GUINEVERE. Hast thou not heard? Thy mother's prayer for mercy hath prevailed. The spies are pardoned. MORDRED. Madam, 'tis to thee They owe their right to live. GUINEVERE. Nay, to the King! Who knowing naught of fear, fears naught to spare Where weaker hearts would slay. To-day at eve Our knights ride forth upon a Holy Quest, At such a season then it was not fit That on their spotless banners there should rest The smirch of hireling blood. MORGAN. Madam, the King! Enter Arthur, with Knights attending. ARTHUR. Our faithful knights do know th' appointed hour. MORDRED. My lord, they wait your call. ARTHUR. Give me the roll. Mordred hands scroll to the King. Is all complete? MORDRED. Nay, truth, I had forgot, One name is lacking there. ARTHUR. Whose name is that? Stand there not here enough of goodly knights That I must lose from our great fellowship, But ye would cry for more? MORDRED. Your pardon, Sire, I did but learn it now, within the hour: Sir Lancelot hath returned. ARTHUR. Well, sir, what then? GUINEVERE [starting]. Sir Lancelot home! MORGAN [approaching her]. Ay, Madam, he is here. ARTHUR. Lancelot is welcome home. MORDRED. Yet 'tis to fear He comes but to depart. ARTHUR. What mean you, sir? MORDRED. He, too, my lord, would join this Holy Quest. ARTHUR. Sir Lancelot? Nay, you jest! this shall not be. Go straight and send him here. MORDRED. My lord, I will. [Exit Mordred. GUINEVERE. Morgan, thou hast our leave. Exeunt Morgan, Ladies of the Court, and Knights. Nay, good my lord, This troubles thee. ARTHUR. It would an it were true; For, as each added name summed up the list, Methought though all should go yet one remains, Flower of all knighthood, Lancelot, thou at least Shalt stand beside thy King! GUINEVERE. Yet should he go Thou still hast that which serves thee more than all, Thy sword Excalibur, whose mystic blade Hath carved this Island Empire from the sea, – Thou hast thy goodly sword. ARTHUR. Ay, and my Queen, Whose dear commands are set as Heaven's high voice, Lifting me nearer Heaven. GUINEVERE. Nay, trust thy sword, 'Twill serve thee better far. ARTHUR. Long time gone by, When this same sword by magic hands was given, Old Merlin said, take heed and guard it well, Yet guard the scabbard too, for that is more E'en than the blade it sheathes. I knew not then If he spoke false or true: I know it now. For at thy coming, Guinevere, my Queen, The havoc turned to harvest at thy feet; From out the bellowing throat of war there came A sweeter, softer music, and the earth, New christened by thy smile, broke forth in flower. Thou art our scabbard, and in thy pure soul, Where only peace may dwell, our sword lies sheathed! Yet that rich dower thy father gave with thee, That image of the world, our Table Round, A kingdom's heart set in a rim of steel Forged of the spears of all the goodliest knights Of all the earth; that too must count for much, And if he now should fail that out of all Hast shown himself the mightiest, then I think Our day draws to its end. Enter Lancelot. Most welcome home! It was but now I learned from Mordred's lips Thou too wouldst join this quest. LANCELOT. 'Tis so, my lord. ARTHUR. If that same word by other lips were spoken I'd say 'twas false. Dost thou so lightly count Our long-tried love, that, without word or sign, Thou'dst quit our side? Nay, but I wrong thee there, For we are one, and haply thou hast told Thy purpose to the Queen. GUINEVERE. Not so, indeed. I heard it not till now. LANCELOT. Nay, hear me, Arthur. I have no life, no soul that is not thine, No heart but waits some fitting hour to bleed In thy great cause; yet, couldst thou see that heart And know its present sickness, thou wouldst say: Lancelot, ride forth, thou hast our willing leave. ARTHUR. Thinkest thou so? We'll speak of this again. LANCELOT. Thy voice alone shall bid me go or stay. Exit Lancelot. ARTHUR. And thou shalt stay, for now I do divine This sickness at thy heart. [Turning to Guinevere.] Canst thou not guess? GUINEVERE. Indeed I cannot. ARTHUR. 'Tis some cause of love That bids him go. GUINEVERE [starting]. Of love? ARTHUR. Ay, dear, of love! Didst think that our two hearts had drained love's springs? Thou hast not heard, but, ere thy coming hither, 'Twas known that Lancelot wooed the fair Elaine. GUINEVERE. 'Twas she that nursed him when his wound was sore? ARTHUR. Ay, true, 'twas she; but even then their loves Had drifted wide asunder, and of late He has not breathed her name. GUINEVERE. Why then 'tis sure He loves her not. ARTHUR. In love there's naught that's sure. Yet is he framed in such a constant mould That truly I believe he loves her still. Some little knot hath ravelled up the skein That links their hearts. There needs a woman's wit To set the tangle straight. GUINEVERE. A woman's wit? ARTHUR. Ay, dear, and thine. GUINEVERE. Indeed, I think not so. ARTHUR. Indeed 'tis so, bid Lancelot come to thee. Thy tongue will find a charm that may unlock The guarded secret of his chafing heart. Guinevere does not move. Nay, thou wilt do't? if our all happy love Hath known no jar, then must we search the more To find the missing note for those whose souls Are not so finely tuned. GUINEVERE. Then thou art sure Thou art all happy? ARTHUR. Nay, how canst thou ask? GUINEVERE. A little field-flower, lighted by a star, Stands but a tiny speck beneath that lamp Which shines o'er half the world: yet once it dreamed That this great beacon light was all its own. 'Tis long since thou hast spoken of thy love, Dost know how long? ARTHUR. That is the fate of kings, Whose lives are as a picture for the world, Not for their own content. When we were wed, I dreamed of many an hour when we would sit, Thy hand in mine, recalling that sweet day When, like a flash of sunlight through the trees, I saw thy face at Cameliard; but now The busy hours slip by, each new day brings Its burden of new duty, and our loves Are too long silent. Yet full well thou know'st – Approaching her. GUINEVERE [interrupting him and making away]. Yes, yes, I know, heed not my idle words. It was a foolish thought that slipped my tongue. I'll do thy bidding straight. Enter Morgan. MORGAN. Your pardon, Madam, but the fair Elaine Is newly come from Astolat, and craves An audience with the Queen. ARTHUR. Now this falls well. So you shall plead for both. GUINEVERE [to Morgan]. I'll see her here. Go tell Sir Lancelot I would speak with him. Exit Morgan. ARTHUR. And later, when Sir Lancelot's name is called, 'Tis thou shalt bid him stay. Till then, farewell! Exit Arthur. GUINEVERE. Farewell! [Guinevere is left alone. Am I so weak that every random word Can shake my heart? When Arthur said but now "It is some cause of love bids Lancelot go," I trembled like a thief that's trapped at night. For, in his god-like gaze, I thought I saw The searching eyes of God; piercing my soul Where lurks the shameful secret of my love That none must know. Ah me, if Lancelot knew! How he would spurn me! But he shall not know, Wherefore 'twere better he should go away; For while he was away, within my heart His image dwelt securely, like a star Hung high above me in a stainless sky – A lamp illumined with a fireless flame That wrought no ill, – but now, when he is by, The light grows blinding, and its fiercer rays Consume my very soul. She stands wrapt in thought as enter Elaine. ELAINE. Thy pardon, madam. Morgan bade me come. She kneels as Guinevere turns to her. GUINEVERE [aside]. Indeed, but she is fair! [Aloud.] Nay, do not kneel. [Elaine rises. What wouldst thou with me? ELAINE. 'Twas but yester eve, Within thy garden by the castle wall, For the first time I saw thee with thy maids, Where, 'midst them all, thy prouder beauty seemed To wear the gentlest smile: 'twas then I thought: "Could I but see the Queen, I'd tell my heart And win her favour." Now methinks I erred. GUINEVERE. Has, then, my face so changed? ELAINE. Sweet lady, no. Yet in thy presence my poor lips are dumb. GUINEVERE. Then I must speak for thee: sit near me here. Elaine sits at her feet. So, thou art she our great Sir Lancelot loves? I do not wonder. ELAINE. I did think so once. GUINEVERE. Be sure he loves thee still. ELAINE. Ah, would 'twere so! GUINEVERE. Was then his love so sweet? tell me how sweet. ELAINE. I scarce knew then: for all the uncounted joys Of that brief time seemed but an earnest paid From Love's unbounded store. Now, when all's lost, Remembrance feeds my grief and, drowned in tears, Brings back each little token of his love That pa**ed unheeded then. GUINEVERE. There's joy in that – He loved thee once; methinks I know some hearts Would take thy sorrow's burden but to win What thou dost still possess: but tell me more. Such love, if love it were, could not so end Without a cause – perchance the fault was thine. ELAINE. I think so too, and yet I know not how. The end came all so swiftly: on that day When he rode forth I do remember well I scarce was sad, our parting was so sweet. But, when he came again, it was as though The night had fallen at noontide; all was changed. GUINEVERE. What time was that? ELAINE. Ah, madam, thou canst date My sorrow with thy joy. GUINEVERE [rising suddenly]. What dost thou say? ELAINE. Nay, be not angered: so it chanced to fall, In that same hour when thou, new crowned a Queen, Didst come from Cameliard as Arthur's bride – My love was lost. 'Twas Lancelot brought thee here. GUINEVERE. Ay, was it so? In truth I had forgot. Yes, sure, 'twas he. And now thou think'st that I Can win thy love again! How shall that be? ELAINE. Hold Lancelot to thy side, I ask but that! Let him not go to-day upon this quest, Whence none, perchance, shall live to win his way Back to King Arthur's court. Ah, bind him here, That so my love, by some sweet chance, may find The path it missed before, and creep again Back to that heart that once did seem its home! Thou dost not answer? GUINEVERE. Hush, what sound is that? CHAUNT OF THE KNIGHTS [without] Look not to thy sword, Fame is but a breath, That, for all reward, Brings thee only d**h. Rise, and go forth with us who seek the Grail, Winning for reward Fame that shall not fail. ELAINE [who has gone to the back]. It is the chaunt of those who seek the Grail. See, they make ready. Lancelot is not there! GUINEVERE. Go, leave me now, for I must speak with him, And think what I may do to serve thee best. ELAINE [kissing her hand]. Ah, would I owned thy crown that may command, Or thou my love, that so he needs must yield. Exit Elaine. 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. 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 d**h, 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 pa** 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 pa**ed 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 amba**ador 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. 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. Rise, and go forth, with us who seek the Grail, Winning from above Love that shall not fail. 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. [Exit Guinevere. 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 d**h comes at last, to end our quest, My fainting heart shall quicken at the thought, 'Twas thou didst bid me go. Enter a Squire. Ah, thou art here. Put on my sword. The trumpet sounds as Arthur enters, preceded by a procession of Priests and Choristers chaunting the song of the Grail, while the hall fills with a throng of Knights. Arthur and Guinevere take their places on the throne, on the steps of which stands Elaine next the Queen. THE CHAUNT OF THE GRAIL Look not to thy sword, Fame is but a breath, That, for all reward, Brings thee only d**h. Rise, and go forth with us who seek the Grail, Winning for reward Fame that shall not fail. At the close of the chaunt Percival comes forward from the group of the Knights of the Grail and kneels before Arthur. PERCIVAL. Here, at thy feet, for all whose vows are sworn, I kneel and crave thy favour ere we go. What strange new ways our wandering feet will press, What dread adventures wait us, none can tell. Yet this we know, our fealty to thee Shall stand unbroken, and through all the world We bear the spotless blazon of thy fame! ARTHUR. Rise, Percival, and ye who kneel with him, Take your new way; ye have our leave to go; Which yet, if that might be, we could withhold. The magic circle of our Table Round, Is broken here: wherefore, in truth, my heart Is sore within me, and my lips hold back The message of Farewell. Yet must it be; For well I know your vows are sworn to Him Whose voice outbids the mandate of a king. Therefore ride forth – we wait your glad return! Percival pa**es out, followed by the other Knights of the Grail, who kneel as they pa** the throne. At the last comes Lancelot. Arthur stops him. ARTHUR. Nay, Lancelot, what is this? LANCELOT. My lord, I too Would take those vows that bind me to this quest. ARTHUR [to Guinevere]. Didst thou not speak with him? GUINEVERE. I did, my lord. ARTHUR. Then had thy voice no power? GUINEVERE. In truth, I think Some mightier voice than mine doth bid him go. ARTHUR. Then I must speak: this quest is not for thee. For thy rich manhood hath a holier task – Here, by thy King, to fight for this poor world Till that last call which sheathes our swords in sleep. LANCELOT. My lord, thou knowest me not. I am not fit To stand by thee. ARTHUR. Nay, Lancelot, it is thou That dost not know thyself for what thou art! This crippled realm, how shall it find the goal, If thou, the strongest, who hast been our staff, If thou, the mightiest, who hast been our shield, And thou, the gentlest, that art now our guide, Seek thine own way towards Heaven; and so dost steal The sun's bright rays wherewith to seek the sun, Leaving this lonely world to grope its way In darkness to the end? Thou shalt not go! LANCELOT. My lord, did I but know myself as strong As is the weakest of these knights whose vows Were sworn but now, it would not need thy voice To bid me stay. ARTHUR. Still thy resolve stands firm? Then thou shalt hear a sager voice than ours. Old Merlin, by whose mystic craft we read The unturned page of Time, stand forth and speak! Merlin steps forward. MERLIN. All shall seek the Holy Grail, All and all save one shall fail. ARTHUR. Nay, leave thy riddles; shall he go or stay? MERLIN. Fate doth not answer yea or nay. Love shall bid him go or stay! Love the best, or love the worst, Holiest love, or love accurst. ARTHUR. Say on. What is this love that bids him go? MERLIN. I can but read the words that Fate hath writ. ARTHUR. Then we have done with Fate. Go, get thee hence, And never more shall that dark face of thine Pa**, like a withered shadow, through these halls! MERLIN. I go hence, yet Fate shall stay, Till the dawn of that dread day; He Pendragon's son shall slay That is born with the May! As Merlin goes out the hall grows darker, and the sunset at the back gleams more brightly. GUINEVERE. My lord, I pray you call him back again! ARTHUR. Nay, heed him not, my Queen – nor, Lancelot, thou! For if indeed Love speaks with double voice, One base, one noble, then be sure my lips Do bear the nobler message; for the world Tells of no higher, purer love than that Of brother unto brother. Such in truth Is my great love for thee, that bids thee stay! LANCELOT. I know not how to answer for myself! Yet, once before, when we were at debate The verdict of our Queen did end all strife. I crave it now, her word shall be my law! ARTHUR. Then thou shalt stay: for she and I are one, With but one voice, one tongue, one heart, one soul! Now, Guinevere, declare thy will. GUINEVERE. My lord, A woman is too weak to rule men's hearts. ARTHUR. Not so, my Queen. Hath not thy purer heart, Sole ruler over him who rules this realm, Won, from rude wars, that sweeter crown of peace That smiles upon our land from sea to sea? And wouldst thou fail me now? when on thy word The welfare of a kingdom waits in doubt – Wouldst thou be dumb? GUINEVERE. Indeed, indeed I would. ARTHUR. Nay, I command thee – speak as I would speak! ELAINE. Ay, madam, speak! My life lies in thy word. GUINEVERE [after a pause, and without looking at Lancelot]. My lord, I do thy bidding – Lancelot, stay! The Knights of the Grail file past, singing as they go. Ere those lips be dumb That would bid thee stay; Ere the night be come, Rise, and come away! We, who go forth to seek the Holy Grail, Win, ere night be come, Light that shall not fail.