J. Comyns Carr - King Arthur - Act III lyrics

ACT III THE BLACK BARGE. SCENE: – A vaulted chamber opening on to the river. As the curtain draws up enter Sir Lancelot, followed by Sir Kay, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Agravaine. LANCELOT. Sir Morys slain? GAWAINE. Ay, murdered. LANCELOT. But by whom? KAY. That's still to find. Know you from whence he came? LANCELOT. Straight from Caerleon, whither, as I heard, He rode with sealed advices for the King. KAY. Said I not well? Arthur has been forestalled. LANCELOT. Why, 'twas but yesterday the King did note His long delay. GAWAINE. It was but yesternight We found him murdered. LANCELOT. Sirs, if this be so There's something more than murder. KAY. More, in truth! Lancelot, some traitor lurking near the throne, In secret league with Arthur's enemies, By this same villainous act now stands possessed Of what the King should know. AGRAVAINE. What must be done? GAWAINE. Let Lancelot speak. LANCELOT. I'll straightway to the King And tell him all. Then, should we win his leave, At nightfall we'll to horse, nor draw the rein Until Caerleon's towers cut the sky. Exeunt Kay, Agravaine, and Gawaine. During the next speech Mordred enters. Whose hand is here? Of all our knights but one In my most secret heart dare stand accused Of this foul deed. [Turns and sees Mordred.] Mordred! Morys is slain! MORDRED. Sir Morys slain! Nay, 'tis some idle jest. LANCELOT. That is not all; the advices that he bore – Are stolen. MORDRED. Stolen? Is it possible? LANCELOT. Ay, sir, and true; which news must to the King. MORDRED. Most surely: yet not now; he is fatigued, And would not be disturbed. To-morrow, sir. LANCELOT. Nay, sir, to-day; an hour's delay may risk The safety of his throne, perchance his life. MORDRED. Well, sir, what then? LANCELOT [in amazement]. What then? MORDRED. Nay, spare thy sk**, 'Tis aptly feigned, in faith I'd say 'twas true Did I not hold a key that locks thy heart. LANCELOT. What dost thou mean? MORDRED. I mean, should Arthur pa** He leaves behind a kingdom, and a Queen Who loves him not. LANCELOT. Who says so foully lies. MORDRED. Lancelot, throw off this mask, it fits thee not, Be what thou art, nor fear what thou wouldst be. Let candour answer candour. It was I Who slew this messenger. His papers here Bring the rich news that ere a week be past Caerleon's gates must yield to the a**ault Of Ryon's siege, whose vengeance stays not there; The King himself is doomed; and, the King dead, His throne is mine, and thine his widowed Queen. LANCELOT. Traitor! I knew it. Thou shalt to the King, In whose dread presence, from that villain's throat, I'll force those words again. MORDRED. I dare thy worst! Yet breathe one word and I will tell a tale Shall make thee cower like a beaten hound. LANCELOT. Thou'st naught to tell. MORDRED. What! are her kisses naught? Fie, sir, for shame. So then thou didst not guess I lurked so near, and saw thee lip to lip, Cuddling beneath the may; that is love's trick, Who blindfold deems that all the world is blind. Now to the King! See, sir, the way is clear. What! Wouldst thou pause? Hast thou no heart to win That sweet reward that waits thy loyal zeal – A traitor's d**h? LANCELOT. What were that d**h to me? MORDRED. True! but the Queen? LANCELOT. Vile wretch! Movement towards Mordred. MORDRED. Look where she comes; Take thought with her, she will advise thee well. We men are rash, a woman's subtler wit Serves better in such case. Truth, but she's fair – So fair, – why, Lancelot, I repent me now I kept not this sweet morsel for mine own. LANCELOT. Out of my sight! MORDRED [aside]. His tongue is safely gagged, Yet he's but half corrupt, I'll trust him not. [Exit. Lancelot stands in despair as Guinevere enters. 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 d**hs 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 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 d**h 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. [Exit Lancelot. 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? Enter Arthur. ARTHUR. Ah, thou art here. I bring thee such sad news As needs must wring thy heart. GUINEVERE. What news, my lord? ARTHUR. Elaine is dead! GUINEVERE. Dead! Who hath told thee this? ARTHUR. There, yonder by the shore, her body lies Who, while she lived, was named the Fair Elaine. Canst thou not weep? GUINEVERE. Truly, my lord, I think I've lost the use of tears. ARTHUR. Thou wouldst have wept Hadst thou been there when down the vacant stream That black barge floated, like a speck of night, Blown on the winds of dawn; and on its deck, Fallen as a feather from a white dove's wing, Lay this new prize of d**h; whose cunning hands Had wrought in such fair mimicry of life That on her parted lips there lingered yet The memory of a smile. GUINEVERE. Why then, perchance, She's happier far than some who needs must live And smile no more. ARTHUR. It may be; for that brow Had caught from d**h some secret of content It knew not here, and, looking in those eyes Whose tears had ceased their traffic, I dared think, If aught of sin was there 'tis pardoned now. GUINEVERE. Of sin? What sin? ARTHUR. Ay, for it must be so: Some sin there was though unrecorded here; Some stain that smirched her seeming purity, Which Lancelot, all too noble, could not urge; Else were it not in nature to refuse So sweet a gift. GUINEVERE. If that indeed be true Were it enough to shut the doors of love? ARTHUR. Enough? What wouldst thou ask? GUINEVERE. Ay! Ay! enough, Enough and more! Yet, in some greater heart, As his, or thine, methought that love might find Forgiveness e'en for that. ARTHUR. Nay, wrong him not, Whose upward gaze, set level with the stars, Would lift from earth the soul he crowns with love, Making her more than woman; whence if she fall – Like some lost planet hurled from highest Heaven – She falls to endless night. During Arthur's speech the distant throb of a mournful march is heard slowly approaching. GUINEVERE. Most like 'tis so, And d**h the only way. What sound is that? ARTHUR. Up from the stream they bear her body hither, Where it shall rest beneath this royal roof, Till, with such liberal honours as befit So fair a flower, 'tis set again in earth. The procession enters, headed by Mordred and Morgan. Four Knights bear Elaine and are followed by a company of Maidens. MORGAN [aside to Mordred]. Her cheek grows pale; she will betray herself. She pa**es across the stage and takes her place behind the Queen. At a sign from Mordred the Knights move forward till they come to where Guinevere is standing rigid and motionless. Then they stop in silence till Guinevere, without turning, cries in agony. GUINEVERE. Go on! and set it down! MORDRED [coming forward]. Madam, by your leave, In that white hand of d**h a letter lies, Whose seal we dared not break, for 'tis inscribed "To Guinevere, the Queen." ARTHUR [to Guinevere]. Then break the seal Which hides perchance some secret of her love We know not yet. Guinevere tries to approach the bier, but cannot touch the body, then with a despairing appeal she turns to Arthur. GUINEVERE. I cannot! Give it me. Arthur takes the letter which Guinevere opens and lets fall, staggering back into the arms of Morgan, whose eyes gleam in triumph. MORGAN. Nay, madam, nay; what is it moves thee thus? Mordred picks up the letter and gives it to the King. ARTHUR [reading]. "I that was named Elaine of Astolat, Whose mortal love for Lancelot pa**ed all measure, Seeing he loves another, choose to die." We knew not this. Go, call Sir Lancelot here. GUINEVERE. My lord, my lord – She struggles forward as though to stop the King's command and then swoons into Morgan's arms. ARTHUR. Look to the Queen. Morgan and her Women support her from the stage, and at the same time the Knights lay the body of Elaine under the alcove, and then exeunt, leaving Arthur and Mordred alone. MORDRED [aside]. Ere Lancelot's blow can fall I'll strike him to the heart. ARTHUR [holding the letter]. If this be true 'Tis strange that none had known. MORDRED. What's that, my lord? ARTHUR. What's here set down of Lancelot's later love. MORDRED. Now would to Heaven those words had ne'er been writ Or ne'er been read. ARTHUR. Why so? MORDRED. Didst thou not note How the Queen's soul was stirred? ARTHUR. She is not used To look on d**h; which, coming in such guise, Might move our soldier hearts. MORDRED. Ay, but methought It was d**h's message and not d**h itself That turned those red lips white. ARTHUR. Mordred, what's this? Think you the Queen hath known of this same love? MORDRED. Nay, I'll not answer that. ARTHUR. Nay, but thou shalt. What is to fear? MORDRED. My lord, thou art my King, My sword is thine, and with that sword my life; But with that life my loyal service ends, And what is left thou wilt not ask of me. ARTHUR. Who is it that he loves? MORDRED. In sooth, I thought What all the world had known was known to thee; Were it not so these lips had still been dumb. But now 'tis best 'twere said – he loves the Queen! [A pause. ARTHUR. Who forged this lie? Nay, Mordred, 'tis not thou; And yet I wonder, too, to find thee duped By this poor tale bred in some baser soul That loves not Lancelot. MORDRED. What! thou think'st 'tis false? Why then, my lord, 'tis false. I'll think so, too, We'll speak of it no more. ARTHUR. Ay, but we will, And track this running poison to its source, Which else should turn all the pure springs of life To pools of festering filth. Enter Morgan hurriedly. MORGAN. My lord, the Queen – Why thou art pale! Nay, do not take it so, 'Twas but a sudden fit and soon will pa**. ARTHUR. Morgan, come hither: know'st thou aught of this? MORGAN. Of what, my lord? ARTHUR. Of Lancelot's love for her – The Queen? MORGAN. The Queen? Now who hath told thee this? [Turning to Mordred.] Shame on thee, shame! I pray you heed him not. I would have cut my tongue out ere I'd spoken Such evil of our mistress! ARTHUR. Let him be; He doth but hint what every hawker cries. MORGAN. But he did wrong to speak, and thou to hear. So sweet a lady, and at such an hour! Were I a man, for all he is my child, My sword should answer him. MORDRED [with a**umed anger]. Now this is more Than I have will to bear! Why 'twas thyself Didst tell how yesternight Sir Lancelot Went to her bower alone. ARTHUR. Didst thou say so? MORGAN. In truth 'twas so; and hath been so before; Yet did I think no wrong; and now I'm sure He bore some message from the King himself. ARTHUR. No, he did not. MORGAN. Well, then be sure 'twas naught, And she shall prove it naught. MORDRED. Nay, mother, nay, Let us be honest! Thou wouldst serve the Queen And so would I; yet may we not be false To him whom Heaven hath made her lord and ours. How canst thou say 'twas naught? Why, thou wast there Beside me, when they kissed beneath the may. ARTHUR [turns slowly towards Morgan]. Tell him he lies. MORGAN. My lord, my lord, I cannot. [A pause. ARTHUR. There'll come a time when I shall know full well This is a dream; but now I'll play it out As though 'twere true. Go, get thee to the Queen. MORGAN. Think not too ill of her. ARTHUR. Nay, nor of thee. [Exit Morgan. [To Mordred.] Go on, there's more to come. Think you he knows You lurked so near and saw him? MORDRED. Ay, most sure, For now, with lying tongue, he goes about Whispering that I have hatched some treacherous plot Against thy throne and thee. ARTHUR. Why, then I think This is some other Lancelot ye have met And this some other King! He whom I knew Was of all knights the bravest and the truest, Serving a lord who could not have stood dumb To hear his name befouled. Lancelot enters and approaches the King, who does not turn to him. LANCELOT. My lord, I am here. Didst thou not send for me? ARTHUR. Ay, so I did. Lancelot, the scabbard of Excalibur Is stolen. LANCELOT. Who is the thief? ARTHUR. 'Tis thou shalt say. Dost think 'tis Mordred? LANCELOT [starting]. Why should I think so? ARTHUR. Why not? I have heard there is some grosser charge That thou wouldst bring against him. MORDRED [with a**umed indignation]. Nay, my good lord – ARTHUR. Let Lancelot speak. LANCELOT [after a pause]. My lord, I bring no charge. ARTHUR. Lancelot, think well; art sure thou know'st of naught That should disturb our peace? LANCELOT [after a pause]. Of naught, my lord. ARTHUR. 'Tis well, 'tis well, then both of ye are true. LANCELOT. Was it for this that thou didst send for me? ARTHUR. Not so. Come hither, that thine eyes may feast On this sweet picture. Lancelot turns and starts at the sight of Elaine. Nay, sir, note it well! d**h too hath gone a-maying, and hath plucked Life's fairest flower – Elaine. LANCELOT. Methought she slept. ARTHUR. Ay, past all waking; and wouldst know the cause? LANCELOT. The cause? ARTHUR. Why she doth sleep; 'tis written here. He gives Lancelot the letter; as the King watches him he reads it, and then falls on his knees before the bier. Yet squander not thy grief; she heeds thee not. The dead are dead, we give them ne'er a thought Whose care is for the living; and, of all, The most for thee. Wherever she may dwell, This new-found beauty that hath lured thy heart, We shall command her love. Nay, but we shall; For thou art known the courtliest, truest knight That ever served a king. Then speak her name. LANCELOT. My lord, in truth – ARTHUR. Nay, sir, who is this maid? LANCELOT. There is no maid. ARTHUR. Lancelot, thou sayest well; It is the Queen. LANCELOT. Ah, no! ARTHUR. Thou knowest 'tis so! Thou art the thief who so hast stolen away That scabbard that was worth a hundred swords. LANCELOT. Whose tongue hath told thee this? here on my life I'll answer him who dares accuse her honour. MORDRED. Then answer me. LANCELOT. Liar! and so I will! Yet first I'd have thee known for what thou art. Traitor – I charge thee now. MORDRED [with a sneer]. Said I not well? Guinevere enters unseen. ARTHUR. If he be traitor, what art thou whose sword Strikes at my heart, yet would defend my throne? Prove this is false, and I'll believe him false; Prove that he lies, and I'll believe thee true. LANCELOT. Again I swear 'tis false. GUINEVERE [coming between them]. Nay, nay, 'tis true. LANCELOT. What hast thou done? GUINEVERE. All that was left to do. ARTHUR. Ay, all; there is no more to do or say; d**h's banner floats above the blackened field, The fight is ended and our day is done, If this be so. But I'll not think 'tis so; Take back that word, and none shall know 'twas said! Ah! call it back again, and lift the pall d**h spreads upon my heart; so shall I kneel And bless thee, and this sword shall strike him dumb That dares to whisper aught against my Queen. [She stands immovable. Is this so much to ask? Ay, all too much! There is no might can give back to the Spring Its lowliest flower dead under changing skies; Then how should I, with winter at my heart, Plead with the ruined summer for its rose? Thou hast no word? GUINEVERE. No word to cure what's done. ARTHUR [to Lancelot]. Then arm thyself; my sword shall find its sheath Deep in thy heart. LANCELOT. Strike on! Strike on! I say, For d**h is all I crave. ARTHUR. Then take it now. Arthur runs on Lancelot, but the uplifted sword drops from his hand. I cannot k** thee; Some sudden palsy doth beat down this arm: Its strength is gone. Yet think not 'tis the love I bore thee once; that's clean forgotten now. Nor is it mercy; for, had this same wrong Chanced to the meanest hind that calls me King, My sword had leapt in vengeance, and my soul Had straight approved the deed. Yet here I stand That cannot strike a blow in mine own cause. Is this a curse that Heaven hath set on kings Who may not love nor hate like common men? Or is there some rank poison in a crown That stamps the brand of coward on the brows Of him who wears it? Go, then, get thee hence! Join with some foe that dares a**ault our throne; With Ryons, or with Mark, who hunger still For open war. Ay, league thyself with them And, in that hour, the hand that falters now, In England's cause shall find its force again, And strike thee to the earth. Till then live on. Lancelot goes out as Arthur turns to Mordred. Leave us alone. There's something left to say, Mordred, that's not for thee. [Exit Mordred. GUINEVERE. And must I live? ARTHUR. It is too late to die. GUINEVERE. Too late! too late! ARTHUR. Ay; would d**h's marble finger had been laid On those sweet lips when first they hallowed mine! [Pointing to Elaine. For, locked in d**h's white arms, Love lies secure, In changeless sleep that knows no dream of change. 'Tis Life, not d**h, that is Love's sepulchre; Where each day tells of pa**ionate hearts grown strange, And perjured vows chime with the answering bell That tolls Love's funeral. If thou wouldst boast Of this new sway a woman's wile hath won, Go, tell the world thy heart hath slain a heart That once had been a king's. Yet that's not all, Thou too hast been a Queen whose soul shone clear, A star for all men's worship, and a lamp Set high in Heaven, whereby all frailer hearts Should steer their course towards God; then, 'tis not I Whose life lies broken here, for at thy fall A shattered kingdom bleeds. At the end of this speech a sound of warlike music is heard, and the stage fills with Knights headed by Gawaine and Agravaine. GAWAINE. My lord! my lord! Caerleon is besieged. Enter Mordred. KAY. And we thy knights, Here armed and ready, do but wait to know Our King's command. MORDRED. Then let me lead them forth. The chance is desperate, and thy greater life Is England's, not thine own! ARTHUR. Nay, thou shalt stay; Thou art the one thing left my soul dare trust. And, in this wreck of love, truth stands for all. Sound out for war. [Pointing to Guinevere.] Yet, pray you, use her well; We do not roughly trample down the flower That grows upon a grave. Then use her well, For there entombed lies one who was my Queen. Gawaine, I come. Thy King shall lead thee forth; My sword is drawn, I want no scabbard now. Arthur holds up his naked sword, and all the Knights raise their swords in answer as the curtain falls.