| Bernardo |
(To an apprentice, painting.) Keep to the line, lad, let the field be bright And the device well marked. |
| Apprentice 2 |
So! Master? |
| Bernardo |
Pure In line and colour. (To Apprentice 1.) Bring that vambrace here, Tis not ill done. |
| Apprentice 1 |
I thought it was well wrought. |
| Bernardo |
And so it is, but I'm not satisfied With competence; or I were still a smith A common craftsman in far Mantua And not Bernardo, once the armourer Of Milan's court. See, here the work is rough And somewhat careless. |
| Apprentice 1 |
Must I braize again? |
| Bernardo |
Nay, let it stand till I have time for it. Look you, my lad, this art of ours is rare And needs long service. I am old enough To know that I shall never learn it well. (To others.) Keep to it, lads. (To Apprentice 3.) Bring that haubergeon And test it well, for I believe it strained. |
| Apprentice 3 |
Here's a false ring. |
| Bernardo |
Then out with it, my lad. Death's a lean fellow, and needs little space To make his entry. Rivet it again. A life's no stronger than its slightest hour Nor any armour than its weakest spot. (While the apprentice works, Bernardo goes over to the others.) Have care of it. I mind in Milan once— I'll tell you sometime. Now go on with it. How often, boy, must I repeat my words, Though hard, a metal's not a rock to hack As if it were a quarry, but a form Worth some consideration. Yes, this steel Has its own texture and its qualities, And we must watch them. Iron has its use, Bronze its own nature, steel its services, All much akin, yet very different, And I'd as soon take knife to my own flesh As mangle metal with that tool of yours. Work with the line and not across the grain And see your play grows not too hot, for warmth Draws out the soul of steel. Go on. |
| Apprentice 3 |
Tis finished, master. |
| Bernardo |
Come, we'll test it then. Give me a dagger. See, this is a life, Here is the gorget, here would be the throat, And I am fate in ambush 'gainst this life. I strike it thus; the work is sound enough, Ready for fracture in to-morrow's deeds. |
| Apprentice 3 |
It is a grief — |
| Bernardo |
That such meet work is marred? It's nature's way. All's made for breaking here This linked defence and grievous instruments For its destruction. Yet we make them both. Either our blades can bite thro' our strong mail, Or else these links can turn our finest edge. We dress the balance of the world, my lad, For all the virtues and the strength of man Fare ill in life without the armourer. |
| Enter Gyfert (C}. |
|
| Bernardo |
Ah, Gyfert! Welcome! |
| Gyfert |
Welcome, Bernardo, too. It's long since we did meet. |
| Bernardo |
I think Eight months. |
| Gyfert |
Is it so much? I never thought It was so long. |
| Bernardo |
Ye have been active then? Whence are ye come? |
| Gyfert |
Whence but from Logris, man. We were drawn thither by some false reports Of Saxon landing. |
| Bernardo |
You have need of me? |
| Gyfert |
A pair of tassets and some saddle steels. |
| Bernardo |
Come, let me see them. |
| Gyfert |
They have had rough use. |
| Bernardo |
Truly they have. I cannot make them good Before the morrow. |
| Gyfert |
I'm not troublesome; Say in three days. |
| Bernardo |
You do not need them then To-morrow? |
| Gyfert |
No, why should we? |
| Bernardo |
Tis the last, The final meeting of our summer court. To-day is Pentecost! |
| Gyfert |
I had forgotten it. When one is serving on the boundaries Of all known order, one is apt to miss The nice discernment of each date and feast. It's Pentecost. |
| Bernardo |
The Prince of Devon then Will break no lance to-morrow. |
| Gyfert |
He is proved. These tests are good for practice, but the best Of all our knighthood serve their cause apart. But I'm sorry that we took no hand. Who did the best in recent tournaments? |
| Bernardo |
Sir Lamorak. |
| Gyfert |
Good! He's a noble knight. |
| Bernardo |
Gawain. |
| Gyfert |
Of course! |
| Bernardo |
His brother Agravaine. |
| Gyfert |
Sir Agravaine? |
| Bernardo |
Aye, he is much advanced In strength and favour. |
| Gyfert |
I believe my lord Loves him but little. |
| Bernardo |
He's a gallant soul. |
| Gyfert |
And so are many. He has certain faults Which spoil the liking men should have for him. Your countryman, has he gained no repute? We thought him likely to do much. |
| Bernardo |
Who is My countryman? |
| Gyfert |
Sir Lanval. |
| Bernardo |
He is not. Why, he was bred in wild Armorica, A land that will not suckle her own seed, But casts them out to batten on the world. |
| Gyfert |
They do her honour. |
| Bernardo |
There are no better knights In Christendom. |
| Gyfert |
But still Sir Lanval came From Italy. |
| Bernardo |
True, an Italian lord Adopted him. But he still bears these arms, Argent a bend of vert, no heraldry Of my far country. |
| Gyfert |
What is his birth to me? Who worsted him? |
| Bernardo |
No one; he took no part, Nor have I seen him for some days. |
| Gyfert |
Tis strange. I often heard my master say no knight In all this land was worthier in his sight. Where does he lodge? |
| Bernardo |
In the third ward, I think. |
| Gyfert |
I have a message for him from my lord, Which I had best deliver. In three days, You said, Bernardo, these should be repaired. |
| Bernardo |
I'll see to it. |
| (Exit Gyfert.) |
|
| Bernardo |
Come, lad, now let us work. The hour grows late. Here is Sir Lanval's blade. This was not used in gentle passages, But has been bitten by opposing swords. We must re-edge it. There's good stuff in this. A proper weapon should lie thus in hand, Leashed like a hound unto its handler's mind, Straining and hungering for the sentient force That shall oppose it. |
| Apprentice 3 |
He's a worthy knight. |
| Bernardo |
None better, lad; they do not know him well, Whom I have heard speak lightly of his strength. There are not many in all Arthur's realm Who can o'ermatch him. |
| Apprentice 3 |
Yet he has no name Or reputation. |
| Bernardo |
I remember him In Mantua when he was young, unknown, And saw him step from that subservience To eminence. He often spoke with me, And talked of arms and manners of defence. Come, let us work. For in to-morrow's play Is half war's danger; no man must reproach The aids we give him. |
| Apprentice 3 |
The iron is prepared. |
| Enter Lanval (C). |
|
| Lanval |
At work, Bernardo? |
| Bernardo |
We are pressed, my lord. |
| Lanval |
I think, Bernardo, you must dream of arms, See heaven as a place of perfect mail, With all its angels armoured in delight. |
| Bernardo |
We armourers — give me the hammer, boy — Like to imagine that the case we frame Outweighs in value all that it shall hold, And that our work is the best part of nature's, Seeing that man lies fenceless to the world Unless we aid him. 'Tis a small conceit. |
| Lanval |
But near the truth, for 'tis the shell, indeed, That makes the man; and his appearance serves In place of armour 'gainst all estimates. My blade is finished? |
| Bernardo |
In a little space, We would do justice to so fair a task. |
| Lanval watches him working for a time. |
|
| Lanval |
How would they fare, Bernardo, should ill chance Arrest this service. |
| Bernardo |
Not so ill, my lord. Mark you this boy, his skill shall equal mine An I be spared to teach him. |
| Lanval |
Praise indeed! |
| Bernardo |
It's true enough; he has the touch, my lord, The quality and feeling for this art, But wants instruction. For I know full well The certainty that's needed for this toil Will halt and tremble. |
| Lanval |
Not for many years. |
| Bernardo |
But I grow old, for come next Martinmas 'Tis ten full years since I left Italy; I was not young the time that Mantua Half worshipped thee. |
| Lanval |
I had forgotten it. Then was the world laid wide before my feet, And all adventures stood for my assay, But now — Bernardo, have you ever thought Of turning hence? |
| Bernardo |
I shall die here, my lord. |
| Lanval |
Sloven content! What piece of steel is this Your practice moulds? |
| Bernardo |
A gauntlet for the joust, Sir Agravaine's. |
| Lanval |
I gave it him. This guard Is Meliard's, a present from myself. This frontal here a portion of the suit I gave long since unto Sir Astamor. Here's much that once I could have called my own, Mine ancient substance — |
| Bernardo |
They are good pieces all. We have so much of armour bent and hurt By bitter onslaughts of the Picts and Scots That we are 'mazed that from the hundred acts, The fierce attainments and strange accidents Of such a war this handiwork comes back — Worn, it is true, but none the less well fit For future service. |
| Lanval |
I gave them my best, And clad in kindness which they gained of me, They have o'erpast me. So I strive in vain And waste subsistence for their mockery. And yet, Bernardo, when we met before In Mantua, I did not do so ill. There's not such difference in the make of man, That I, who forced acknowledgement of worth In Italy, in Britain should be shamed. |
| Bernardo |
Not shamed, my lord; this land is proud and dull, And harsher in the value which it sets Upon its servants than all other states. This people slowly puts suspicion off, And slower still divests it of belief. Be patient with them. |
| Lanval |
Patient, I am so! I crave no honours or rewards, indeed, For they are favours that a chance may bring To be henceforth the inmates of one's life, And so sustained, consulted hour by hour, That the cramped soul no longer is the lord Of its own being. Is it much I ask, That they acknowledge that I serve them well? |
| Bernardo |
The Duke of Cornwall praised your enterprise, And swore no knight of Arthur's court could lead To better purpose. |
| Lanval |
I may do them wrong; Perhaps it is my vanity that's hurt, And they do right to overlook my power. Who knows where lies the limit of his use? My blade is finished? |
| Bernardo |
In a moment, lord. For it, as thou, waits on accomplishment. Sir, I am old, and have watched many knights, And might make play to hearten discontent. Have I thy leave? |
| Lanval |
Bernardo, we are friends, And both alike contemned and lightly held In the opinion of these islanders. |
| Bernardo |
My lord, this humour is a youthful mood, The fretting of a soul untrained, who feels The bit of fortune curb his stride half way Adown the lists. There are more courses yet, And to show sourness is ungenerous. |
| Lanval |
'Tis kindly meant; but I go hence to-night. |
| Bernardo |
To-night? |
| Lanval |
At once. Bernardo, I am poor. The huge equipment and vast sustenance, Wherewith I came unto this island realm, Are past and vanished. All mine armament Have I not given to my friends or foes Indifferent? For I was taught a knight Should be so free, so liberal and kind, That none who asked should go without reward, To this result. One simple suit is left — My sword and horse. |
| Bernardo |
My lord, let me provide Arms for to-morrow. |
| Lanval |
I may not accept A gift of you. |
| Bernardo |
For our old friendship's sake, Let me provide such arms as fit your rank. Why, in a tournay one can win the wealth Of a vast province in a single stroke, Take prisoners, or hold the petty kings To guard or ransom. |
| Lanval |
I'll not take of you What I must risk. |
| Bernardo |
Geraint? |
| Lanval |
Has been my friend! Were his sweet friendship a small thing to me, I'd ask of him, but I am not become As yet a beggar. |
| Bernardo |
But the king is kind. |
| Lanval |
To some, perhaps. His kindness passed me by, And I'll accept that treatment as the worth I am to him. |
| Bernardo |
But he is just — |
| Lanval |
Most just, So I accept his verdict as my due. |
| Bernardo |
The Queen — |
| Lanval |
Bernardo, if I cannot ask Help of my friends, I am not like to come To such a pass. For I am not so made That I can bend my humour to the needs Of Queen and courtiers. Ask my Queen for aid? Cry out for my worth as pedlars cry their wares, And pledge my honour for another cast? That were too foul! Suffice it, I have failed. I do not charge injustice to the world, Nor blame mankind for blindness that my deeds Are out of sight. I can accept defeat, And with some sorrow put my dreams away. |
| Bernardo |
My lord, this court is not o'erfilled with men, But its defences are hewn out from it As flakes of metal from old armour fall. Saxon and Scot, the Picts and outland men Lie ever restless on our boundaries. Each day may bring the messengers of war And set our standards in the field again, So do not leave us. |
| Lanval |
It is time I went, For I am landless, houseless, penniless. |
| Bernardo |
Go not, my lord. I have none else to speak The southern tongue, or raise remembrances Of Italy. |
| Lanval |
Come with me then, my friend. |
| Bernardo |
I am too old, and must endure my days In these grey places. Death were easier there, For he comes laughing with the sun and dust. I wish I could. |
| Lanval |
I shall be glad to think That one regrets my passing. Come — my blade! Is it not finished? |
| Apprentice 3 |
It is here — |
| Lanval |
And fits Its scabbard truly. Lad, the work is good. Would mine were so. Bernardo, then, farewell. I go to test my fortune in new lands, And fate may bring me to this realm again, Or hold me far from it. |
| Bernardo |
Farewell, My lord and friend. I would that I could go. At least I'll speed thee. |
| Exeunt Bernardo and Lanval. The apprentices continue working. Enter Gawain and Agravaine, Meliard and Astamor (L). |
|
| Gawain |
Where's the armourer, boy? |
| Apprentice 3 |
But now gone out. |
| Gawain |
He will return? |
| Apprentice 3 |
At once. |
| Gawain |
Good! Heed me not! I know that ye are pressed. |
| Gawain goes to the back of the stage. |
|
| Meliard |
But, Agravaine, thou dost not hear my words! |
| Agravaine |
I have much else to think of, Meliard. |
| Astamor |
I dreamt this night, pardie, An elf queen should my leman be, And lie beneath — |
| Agravaine |
Enough! |
| Astamor |
She were cold else. |
| Agravaine moves away impatiently. |
|
| Astamor |
See, Meliard, he cannot even bear The little mention of a covering. |
| Meliard |
Behold his meditation and his frown, Which now relaxes while he sweetly smiles On vacancy. |
| Astamor |
He only loves his thoughts And smiles on them. But still I do him wrong. |
| Meliard |
How, Astamor? |
| Astamor |
Why, did he love his thoughts But half as much as he does love himself, He would out-shock the poets. |
| Meliard |
We hate pride Out of an envy, when we have no power To humble it. |
| Astamor |
But only the good will, God send us some one for the noble task. |
| Meliard and Astamor go aside. |
|
| Agravaine |
Think'st thou, Gawain, this guard is wide enough? |
| Gawain |
I think it is. |
| Agravaine |
And see this blazoning! Twill not look ill on to-morrow's field! |
| Gawain |
It's well enough. I trust it may be marked Of all to-morrow. |
| Agravaine |
Borne in such a cause As I uphold. |
| Gawain |
And what is that? |
| Agravaine |
My own! It cannot fail. |
| Gawain |
Be not too confident. |
| Agravaine |
Why, I am borne upon the central stream Of Fortune's current. Brother, blame me not; There is a sweetness in the taste of power Beyond all savours. |
| Gawain |
Be gentler, Agravaine, This pride of bearing will not make thee loved. |
| Agravaine |
Loved! What care I for any man's regard? And for the rest this manner has its use. |
| Enter Geraint and Owain (C). |
|
| Geraint |
Welcome, fair cousin — |
| Gawain |
Welcome, too, Geraint, Wilt break a lance to-morrow? |
| Geraint |
No, Gawain, For I have other business in my hands, And grow too old for these slight practices. |
| Gawain |
My brother there is anxious to advance His name and honour. |
| Geraint |
There are many here Who'll not deny him the occasion. |
| Gawain |
True, But he flies high. |
| Geraint |
Let him be satisfied; But I'll not stay thee, for the time at least. Ye choose your arms for this fair tournament, Wherein, no doubt, ye both will do great deeds. I will not hinder. (He turns away) Welcome, Meliard And Astamor. All's well with you, I hope! |
| Astamor |
Well met, Geraint. We fare much the same As we did ever. |
| Geraint |
(aside) And are likely to, Until the Judgment. (To Owain) Let us sit and talk. (They sit down.) Tell me the news. How goes it in the court? |
| Owain |
In these last months there's been a bitter waste — |
| Geraint |
What of? |
| Owain |
Of breath. There's been more ditty-making, sighing, And yammering than I care to keep count of. |
| Geraint |
Well, let them have their play at least. |
| Owain |
Play? All the babes that can carry a sword without being crushed by the belt, or hit a swinging shield with a practice-spear are bellowing and challenging like bucks. They'd be better of a little blood-letting. War's a fine chastener of manners. |
| Geraint |
You take no part? |
| Owain |
God knows I've seen enough of war's true self, To need no practice in its semblances. Our strife is over for the time, it seems. I keep my breath, for I have need of it For other purpose than this foolishness. |
| Geraint |
And so I think. Within the year, Owain, This dalliance turns to raucous speech of strife. |
| Owain |
So soon? |
| Geraint |
Aye, sooner than we think. |
| Owain |
The Saxons will not come for such a meal, Having so tasted of our stuff — |
| Geraint |
Not come! Why, I know well. — No matter, let it pass — And tell me more. |
| Owain |
This may please you, the Queen Hath cast her favour on Sir Agravaine. |
| Geraint |
I like him not. |
| Owain |
Nor do the most of us. He gained some honour in the Saxon war, And for that cause is by the Queen preferred, And so by Arthur much advanced and loved. |
| Geraint |
He irks my soul, for I have known him long, And found his worth in no way equal to His pride and scorn. |
| Owain |
The queen doth favour him. |
| Geraint |
And there are others who should have the power To stay this braggart. |
| Owain |
Who? |
| Geraint |
Lanval, for one. Cador of Cornwall told me of his skill; And I have seen him deal as goodly strokes As man could wish for. |
| Owain |
How could we engage Him in this passage? |
| Geraint |
Why, most easily. But how is it Sir Lanval has not yet Encountered him? |
| Owain |
He has not taken part In joust or tournay since this court was held. |
| Geraint |
Is he so backward? |
| Owain |
He may have cause to be. At least I noted that amongst the hosts Who got rewards and favours of the King, He was not mentioned. |
| Geraint |
Why? Did not Cador, With whom he served, advance his claim and due? |
| Owain |
Maybe he did. Perhaps the King forgot, Or else Cador. |
| Geraint |
Perhaps He had no Queen to plead for kindnesses. I am amazed; but come, we'll alter it, For this foul usage fits my cause too well To let me miss it. |
| Geraint goes across to Gawain. |
|
| Owain |
(aside) What a fiery fool! The devil take all those who have a mind To cure injustice; there'll be trouble here. |
| Geraint |
Gawain! |
| Gawain |
Good cousin! |
| Geraint |
I have a word for you. (They talk apart.) |
| Enter Bernardo, bearing a sheaf of blades. |
|
| Owain |
Blunt blades, Bernardo? |
| Bernardo |
For the tournay, lord. |
| Owain |
Best sharpen them. |
| Bernardo |
Why so, my lord? |
| Owain |
Why thus: There are not enough Picts, Scots, Angles, Saxons, or discontented folk in the kingdom for some of us, so we must needs encourage carving amongst our own friends. |
| Gawain |
Tis not our custom. |
| Geraint |
A fair test, Gawain, And for one seeking honour much encouragement. Although inactive, I am glad I may Do something now to lend reality To the sped fashion of this mimic war. I'll make a match. They say, Sir Agravaine, That there is none who can withstand thy strength, Or sleight of sword, amongst the younger knights. |
| Agravaine |
Should fortune aid me, I believe I hold As fair a chance upon to-morrow's field As any man. |
| Geraint |
I marked thy confidence, And such an air goes not with slender worth. Now 'tis a passion with me to maintain Fortunes unknown and beings indigent. I am so hungry for the birth of power That I must needs help all that's slight and young; Therefore I would, not doubting thy great strength, Make some slight wager that success doth fall In other hands. |
| Agravaine |
Do as thou wilt, Geraint, But I must fear thy wager is ill found. |
| Geraint |
Come then, I choose a knight of little name. Hast thou a badge which he may challenge? |
| Agravaine |
No, I bear no badge. |
| Geraint |
Tis strange! Hast thou no love To be upholden? |
| Agravaine |
No, I bear no badge. |
| Geraint |
What shall we hazard? Stake our baronies, All tracts and fiefs which have been our reward, So shall the gainer be made rich indeed, The loser whetted to renewed attempts. |
| Agravaine |
Sir, the fair gifts the King has rendered me For my attainments are not to be staked In such a manner. |
| Geraint |
They do sit you hard. I'll give you odds upon my friend's behalf, Trust all my fortunes to his skill. Thus I Stake all the lordship I have gained in war, The barren lands and castle-shadowed fields Against thine arms; thy horse and arms alone. |
| Agravaine |
Be it accepted. What paladin is this I must encounter? |
| Geraint |
Lanval! |
| Agravaine |
No, Geraint, I will not rob you. 'Tis too slight a task. |
| Geraint |
Why, then, fulfil it! Lanval is not here. But if he proves not thine attainments false, Then am I fool, and all mine estimates Are straight degraded. |
| Gawain |
This is not right, Geraint. |
| Geraint |
The match is mine, and I have staked my lands. |
| Gawain |
The greater folly — |
| Geraint |
Folly it may be. But I stake these clean honours of the field Against the favours of a gross intrigue. Shall I be patient while true merit's checked, And such a fashion strides unto success? |
| Gawain |
You are too free, Geraint. |
| Geraint |
I am no thrall, Or a dependent, but the Prince of Devon. This much I know, ye have used Lanval ill, And I have justice at my side to aid In his maintaining. |
| Gawain |
Let him prove himself. |
| Geraint |
And that he shall. Bernardo, hast thou seen Aught of Sir Lanval? |
| Bernardo |
Sir Lanval is gone hence. |
| Geraint |
Whither? |
| Bernardo |
He said he longed for Italy. |
| Geraint |
He will return? |
| Bernardo |
I know not. |
| Agravaine |
I do know. He will return when this is overpast; I had not failed him if he wished to break A lance with me. But he has never dared. Therefore, Geraint, thy lands are forfeited To my possession. |
| Geraint |
Let that wager stand. Be not too hungry for my lands, good sir. I think this matter is more like to come To bitter ending than ye dream of now. I think I heard ye say Sir Lanval feared? |
| Agravaine |
I said he feared, and I will stand by it. |
| Geraint |
Witness, ye knights, a charge of cowardice, A slur on honour, which must be redeemed In the closed field. Am I not right, Gawain? |
| Gawain |
I fear it is so. |
| Agravaine |
I am well prepared To answer for it, if Sir Lanval dare! |
| Geraint |
Lanval is gone. I follow him at once. |
| Owain |
(At the window) Too late, Geraint; he passes even now Into the forest. |
| Geraint |
By which path? |
| Owain |
He rides Into the evening. |
| Geraint |
I will follow him, And though I rake the whole wide earth about, I will not fail to bring him here again, When I return; then guard you, Agravaine. |
| Exit and Curtain. |