J. Comyns Carr - King Arthur - Act IV lyrics

ACT IV THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. SCENE I: – The Queen's prison in the Castle at Camelot. Door leading to the Queen's chamber. Another door heavily barred. Window at back. Gaoler discovered keeping guard. As the scene opens knocking at outer door. GAOLER. Who knocks without? MESSENGER [without].One who bears a message for the Queen. Gaoler opens door and admits the Messenger. GAOLER. What saith Sir Modred? May she see her fool? MESSENGER. Ay, I have brought him hither. GAOLER. That will content her much; she hath cried often for her fool. MESSENGER. Yet methinks she shall s** but poor entertainment from the fellow now: his wits are clean gone. And, faith, he is not like to smile again. GAOLER. What mean you, sir? MESSENGER. The news of Arthur's d**h is now made sure; and what is worse, 'tis said 'twas Lancelot's sword that struck him down. GAOLER. Who shall tell this to the Queen? MESSENGER. Within the hour Sir Mordred comes himself To bear the news. Think you 'twill stir her heart? GAOLER. Indeed I think not so, look where she comes, Her white face like the head-stone at a grave, O'er-lettered with the story of a day That ended long ago. Enter Guinevere. She holds a bird in her hands. GUINEVERE. See what I've trapped: it fluttered at the bars And fell there at my feet. I'd have it caged, That I, its gaoler, may have leave to dream That I am free; and then, perchance, one day This little bird will come and pray to me, Who, being a Queen, must needs be merciful And break its wicker walls. GAOLER [taking the bird]. I'll cage it now. He goes towards the door, and she sees the Messenger. GUINEVERE. Ah, sir, you're from the Court. Where is my fool, Sir Dagonet? Is that denied me too? 'Twas not so much to ask. MESSENGER. Madam, he's here, And yet so changed I fear he will not know thee. Opens door, and Dagonet enters. GUINEVERE. That counts for naught. I scarce do know myself. Come hither, Dagonet. Sirs, by your leave. [Gaoler and Messenger exeunt. GUINEVERE. Dost thou not know thy Queen? DAGONET. Ay, very well, there were two of them; for there was one, look you, that came with the spring from Cameliard, and she had a face that touched Heaven: and there was one that kept a poison on her lip for Lancelot's kissing. And hark'e, last night beneath the moon I saw them both kneeling beside a grave. GUINEVERE. Whose grave? DAGONET. I know not, for the stone was bare And they did naught but weep. GUINEVERE. I'll tell thee, then: This grave I think was Guinevere's who died That hour when she was born: and these two Queens Who through the night keep watch beside her tomb, Are but her shadows fashioned for the masque Which men call life; poor puppets that must dance While unseen fingers touch the trembling strings; But whence that music comes, from Heaven or Hell, There's none shall say, till all life's lamps burn out And d**h stands forth to claim the harper's fee. Enter Gaoler. GAOLER. Make room, Sir Mordred comes. Enter Mordred. Exeunt Gaoler and Dagonet. MORDRED. Great Queen, I bear thee news that sets thee free. GUINEVERE. What news is that? MORDRED. Thy lord, the King, is dead. GUINEVERE. Dead! art thou sure? Why then, sir, he is free, And I that was his gaoler may not weep; Yet count not that against me, for I think Tears are not all. MORDRED. Truth, thou wert wrong to weep. Dost thou not know 'twas Arthur's cruel will That set thee in this prison? GUINEVERE. Ay, I know, That thou hast said 'twas so. MORDRED. And so it is: But now I've come to break these prison bars, And so give back unto our desert world Life's sweetest rose that hungers for the sun. GUINEVERE. And who art thou whose new-found sovereignty Rides o'er the King's decree? MORDRED. I am thy King. GUINEVERE. There is no King save one, and he is dead. Yet if it was his will to leave me here, Why, here I'll stay. MORDRED. Nay, then thou dost not guess The gift I bear thee! Guinevere, those lips, Moulded by Love's own hand, are not yet doomed For d**h's embrace: their kiss is for a king; Yet not like that dead lord whose bloodless soul Wings to a frozen heaven: who wooes thee now Is man, not god, and in his brimming veins Run longings like thine own. GUINEVERE. I thought till now That I had suffered all; but here I see My shame doth but begin. 'Twas not enough That through my sin, for all succeeding time, Hell's mocking laugh shall haunt the voice of spring, And plant its poisoned echo in each bower, Where lovers' vows are sworn! Nay, this is more That she, whom love doth once make false to love, Must henceforth bear the common brand of lust, Seeming the painted toy that every man May purchase at his price. MORDRED. Why, thou dost dream! Here at thy feet I lay an empire's throne, Where thou in equal majesty shalt reign Once more a Queen. GUINEVERE. A wanton, not a Queen! Who for this piece of gold thou call'st a crown Would take thy murderer's kiss. MORDRED. Nay, have a care! My love lies near to hate. GUINEVERE. I fear thy love; Thy hate is naught. MORDRED. Truth, thou shalt find it more Than thou hast ever dreamed. Shouts without, "Long live the King." MORDRED. Dost hear that cry? It is the echoing voice of England's knights, Who hail me king. GUINEVERE. And they were Arthur's knights? MORDRED. Ay, they loved Arthur well! Yet when they learn, – As so they shall, for I will vouch it true – 'Twas Lancelot's sword did pierce him to the heart, Their eyes will turn on her whose shameful sin Made Lancelot false. See then, thy fate stands clear, Thou art d**h's bride, or mine – thy choice is free. GUINEVERE. Why then I choose to die. Yea, though my soul Slipped down to Hell, Hell were a paradise Whilst thou art here. [Exit Guinevere. MORDRED. By Heaven, then thou shalt die! Enter Morgan. MORGAN. Ryons is trapped, and dying hath confessed His treason and thine own. MORDRED. Then Arthur lives, And all is lost. MORGAN. Nay, all is left to win; This news is secret, and long ere 'tis known Thy sword shall pierce his heart. MORDRED. Or his sword mine. MORGAN. What, wouldst thou question Fate? He Pendragon's son shall slay, That is born with the May. So Fate decreed: His blood is thine and mine. Shouts "Long live King Mordred! d**h to Guinevere!" grow louder to the end. Go, take thy crown, And none shall dare to question what is done. Or what remains to do. [Exit. MORDRED. So Fate take all! To halt were d**h, and that on-coming flood Of Time's uplifted wave can hold no more. [Exit. SCENE 2: – The Great Hall at Camelot. As the scene is disclosed the Hall is filled with armed Knights. Mordred is on the throne, accompanied by Morgan, and surrounded by the retinue of the court. Guinevere stands before the throne. Mordred turns to her. MORDRED. By England's knights in council thou dost stand Condemned of treason 'gainst thy lord the King, Whose d**h lies at thy charge. Yet we, who bear The crown that Arthur wore, now give thee leave To plead in thy defence. If there be aught Which thou canst urge why judgment should be stayed, Stand forth and speak. AGRAVAINE. We pray you hear her not. GUINEVERE [turning with a look of scorn towards Mordred]. What still is left to say is not for thee! MORDRED. Then let the sentence go. Queen Guinevere, Daughter of Leodograunce of Cornwall, Now hear thy judgment as the law decrees: That first, despoilèd of thy royal robes, Thou shalt be fastened to an iron stake Until thy mortal body be consumed in fiery flames. GUINEVERE. And saith the law no more? MORDRED. Ay, this it adds: that if thy prayer may win Some champion for thy cause, then this same knight Shall claim due right of battle 'gainst that lord Whose charge hath brought thee here. GUINEVERE. And who is that? MORDRED. 'Tis I who charge thee now. GUINEVERE. Why then, sir knights, I'll kneel and pray to you, if haply one Find heart to serve his Queen. Think not I plead For this poor gift of life. Nay, could I choose, These hands should bear fresh f*ggots to the blaze That lights me to a tomb. Yet hear me all: Who stands my knight to-day shall wrest from Time A crown of glory. Not, sirs, that he fought For one whose sin knows no desert save d**h, That were but shame: yet whoso dares that shame His sword shall win the right, denied him else, To slay that crawling thing upon the throne – Wherefore I cry a champion for my cause! Mordred, who has descended from the throne, whispers aside. MORDRED. Too late, my Queen! too late! What wouldst thou give To win a king's kiss now? Doth no one speak? Then, herald, let the trumpet's tongue bray out Her knight is gone a-hawking, or perchance He sleeps too late! The trumpet sounds, and at the third call Sir Bedevere breaks through the throng and stands before Mordred. BEDEVERE. Hold there, sir herald, hither comes a knight To answer for the Queen. MORDRED. Who is this knight? BEDEVERE. Sir, by your leave that shall be better told When all is done. The Knights give way, and Arthur stands alone with lowered helm. MORDRED. See, madam, where he stands, Thy champion who must needs have come from far, To answer in such cause. Guinevere kneels at Arthur's feet. GUINEVERE. I thank thee, sir, Yet now I do repent me of what's done, And fain would set thee free. Put up thy sword! I am not worthy that a true knight's blood Should flow for me; see, I will tell thee all: I had a champion once, the mightiest knight, The bravest and the truest in the world. He was my lord, and I his chosen Queen Brought him to shame. Then wherefore praise him now? Nay, sir, I must: for that is life's hard law, Which will not yield its secret till the close. When Arthur went the sun shot scarlet-red, And all the past lay bare. Then pray thee, sir, Put up thy sword that waits a worthier cause. A pause, but Arthur makes no sign. GUINEVERE [to Arthur]. Thou wilt not? Then I'll ask this much of thee: When d**h shall call thee home, it so may chance That thou shalt meet my lord; if that should be, Give him this word, – that at the end, his Queen Knew him for what he was, true lord of all. MORDRED. Go, lead her hence. AGRAVAINE. So God defend our King. Exit Guinevere, followed by Agravaine and Knights. Mordred turns to Arthur, who remains motionless, Morgan watching him intently from the steps of the throne.Sir Bedevere stands by Arthur. MORDRED. And now I'm thine: yet first, by Heaven, I'll know The face beneath that mask. ARTHUR. 'Twas kept for thee. As he lifts his helm Mordred starts back. MORDRED. The King. ARTHUR. Ay, sir, the King, who but to win This little hour from but the wreck of time, Would take life's wearied hand and travel back Across the ruined past, should fate declare That only so his sword might claim the right To slay thee now. MORDRED. Prate on, I fear thee not. MORGAN. Thou hast forgot the message of the May; Then hear it now. ARTHUR. Enough; 'twas thou, false witch, That stole the scabbard of Excalibur! Yet see, the blade remains whose every stroke Is winged by d**h. MORGAN. Not so! Not so, my lord! That fickle steel shall splinter as it falls On one twice armed by fate – "He Pendragon's son shall slay That is born with the May." See! there he stands! ARTHUR. Why then the end is here: set on, Sir Knight, d**h stands betwixt us twain, and d**h shall choose. [They fight and Arthur is wounded. Traitor, that blow ends all. [He falls to the earth. MORGAN. Long live the King! The trumpet is heard without. Dost hear that sound? Nay, look not on what's done, There's more to do: her soul shall join with his To wing its way across night's starless sky. Exeunt Morgan and Mordred, and as they go they are greeted by cries from without. Voices [without]. Long live the King! ARTHUR. Nay, sirs, 'tis not for long. I'm dying, Bedevere. Where is my sword? BEDEVERE. There, in thy hand. ARTHUR. Poor hand, that knew it not. Go quickly, Bedevere, and bear it hence Unto that little bay hid in the cliff, Then cast it in the sea, to wait that day When upward from the shrieking waves shall spring A vast sea-brood of mightier strain than ours, Bearing across the world from end to end One cry to all, "Our sword is in the sea." BEDEVERE. Why, then, 'tis done. [He takes sword, and goes off. ARTHUR. Life's tide is ebbing fast. Gawaine enters hurriedly. GAWAINE. Nay, what is here? The wreck of all the world! ARTHUR. Peace, sir, I know thy news; the Queen is dead. GAWAINE. Not so; she lives, and thou art well avenged By one who, dying, struck thy murderer down. ARTHUR. Didst know him, Gawaine? GAWAINE. Ay, I knew him once. The courtliest knight that ever bare a shield, The sternest soldier to his mortal foe, Yet gentlest of us all. ARTHUR. Nay, sir, his name? GAWAINE. His name, my lord, was Lancelot. ARTHUR. Lancelot. Ah! So life's long night is breaking at the last. Guinevere enters, while the figure of Merlin appears standing above the recumbent form of Arthur. GUINEVERE. Where is that knight who died that I might live? GAWAINE. Hush, lady! he is here. She sees the face of Arthur and falls at his feet. GUINEVERE. My lord! my lord! ARTHUR. Whose face was there? I pray you, some one say, For all grows dark: I know not where I am. GUINEVERE. Her name was Guinevere. ARTHUR. What, sirs? why then, This should be Cameliard. [Rousing himself with sudden energy.] See, 'tis the spring! Down in the vale the blossoms of the May Are swinging in the sun! and there she stands That shall be England's Queen! Far up I hear The ceaseless beating of d**h's restless wing, And round mine eyes the circling veil of night Grows deeper as it falls. Henceforth my sword Rests in its scabbard. What remains is peace. [He falls back dead. GUINEVERE. He's gone, the light of all the world lies dead. The stage darkens, leaving a light only on the face of Merlin. MERLIN. Not so, he doth but pa** who cannot die, The King that was, the King that yet shall be; Whose spirit, borne along from age to age, Is England's to the end. Look where the dawn Sweeps through a wider heaven, and on its wings By those three Queens of night his barge is borne To that sweet Isle of Avalon whose sleep Can heal all earthly wounds. During this speech, the stage grows darker, and as the vision appears, at the back, of Arthur borne in the barge, with the three Queens bending over his body, the chorus breaks out, and continues till the end. CHORUS Sleep! oh sleep! till night outworn Wakens to the echoing horn That shall greet thee King new-born, King that was, and is to be. And a voice from shore to shore Cries, "Arise, and sleep no more, Greet the dawn, the night is o'er, England's sword is in the sea."