| ACT III. SCENE I. THE |
|
| Guinevere |
EN'S TOWER, CARDUEL. (Two years later.) Large bay window at back of stage. A door (LC) leading to Queen's apartments. Another (L) leading to knights' part of Castle. Door (R) to stairway leading to the lists. |
| Astamor |
Still, Meliard, we shall see well from here. |
| Meliard |
How can one judge the value of a stroke From such a distance? |
| Astamor |
We are high, 'tis true, But since our service keeps us to this room, We must make shift to watch as best we can. |
| Meliard |
How long, think you, will our attendance last? |
| Astamor |
I do not know. They say that messengers Have come from Persant. |
| Meliard |
War again? |
| Astamor |
No doubt. |
| Meliard |
I'd not have missed this meeting for the half Of what I own. What think you, Astamor — Is not Sir Lanval stouter than that stiff And lustful ruffian Agravaine? |
| Astamor |
Take care! There are some here who love him. I do not, And yet I'm cautious of too much disdain. |
| Meliard |
Lanval should gain! |
| Astamor |
But he is wounded, man! |
| Meliard |
Wounded? |
| Astamor |
He got a bitter hurt of late; A Pictish shaft through the left shoulder. |
| Meliard |
Hurt, And he will yet risk all in this debate? |
| Astamor |
Oh, it concerns a very trifling fact; He was accused of cowardice. |
| Meliard |
That charge Was folly on the face of it. |
| Astamor |
Of course; Yet, Meliard, we both of us were there, When this strange charge was first of all preferred. Strange, that we saw no folly in it then! |
| Meliard |
Their conflict should be very hotly fought. |
| Astamor |
Lanval's the defter in the use of swords, And has the better eye for measure — |
| Meliard |
But his wound — And Agravaine's great strength! |
| Astamor |
Well, we shall see, It's close on noon, for look, the shadows shrink. |
| Enter Owain (R). |
|
| Owain |
Hast seen Geraint, Sir Astamor? 'Tis time We brought our man to his pavilion. |
| Astamor |
No Owain, I have not seen him. |
| Owain |
Wherefore wait ye here? |
| Astamor |
It is our day for duty. We attend The pleasure of the King. |
| Owain |
He needs you not: I come from him in council with Cador, The Duke of Cornwall. |
| Meliard |
Then we can go down And watch this combat. |
| Owain |
I will answer for it. |
| Meliard |
Come, Astamor. |
| Astamor |
You are sure, Owain? |
| Owain |
No, I am not. I said I'll answer for it. God speed you, Sirs. (He turns away.) |
| Astamor |
Come then, Sir Meliard. |
| Exeunt Meliard and Astamor. |
|
| Owain |
Aye, haste away and scuffle for your place. Stare with the rabble. Feathers, voices, spurs, Are all your being, and suit cockerels As well as knights. God! I'd as soon have set Two dogs by the ears and had a reeking barn Of goggling rustics for their audience As touch this business. All in honour's name? Oh, honour, virtue, grace, nobility, What fools you make of men! |
| Enter Geraint. |
|
| Owain |
At last! Is Lanval armed? |
| Geraint |
Bernardo is with him. |
| Owain |
We shall be late. |
| Geraint |
Well, let them wait for us Who forced the quarrel. |
| Owain |
I did think, Geraint, That you had puddled in this mud as much As our opponents. Why I am compelled To take a hand in this fantastic shift I cannot think. |
| Geraint |
I claimed your services: He is my friend. |
| Owain |
Well, God deliver me From such a friendship. It's a kindly act To urge one's friend into a bitter cleft Where, if he gains, there's little profit found, And if he lose the certainty of shame. |
| Geraint |
I know, Owain, I have done wrong in this, But I was stung by some foul incidents And, in my groping for an instrument, My hand lit on him. I regret it now For I have found he has a quality Which shames my purpose. I like him too much To turn his deeds to my advantages; I'd give my hand to be well clear of this. |
| Owain |
Hot head, soft heart, these are the devil's aids. |
| Geraint |
May be, and yet strong arm outweighs them both. But here he comes. |
| Enter Lanval and Bernardo (L). |
|
| Geraint |
Bernardo, hast thou armed Him soundly? |
| Bernardo |
Prince, had I a son to quip For such engagement, I could furnish him No better. |
| Owain |
Good. Thy shoulder, Lanval, smarts? |
| Lanval |
It troubles me a little. |
| Owain |
Have a care To well protect it. |
| Lanval |
Trust me. |
| Geraint |
That we do. |
| A sennet off. |
|
| Owain |
The marshals to the lists. Let us go down. |
| Exeunt. {Enter Guinevere and her maidens (LC). The Queen seats herself in a high chair and the maidens go to the window. |
|
| Lynette |
Tis a fair field, and see the marshals come Into the lists. |
| Alysoun |
Who is the knight that bears Bezants on azure? |
| Lynette |
Tis Sir Astamor. |
| Alysoun |
A noble knight. |
| Helène |
See how the common folk Press on the barriers! |
| Alysoun |
It is said they love Sir Lanval's cause. What are the arms, Lynette? |
| Lynette |
Mounted three courses with the lance alone, The points unbated. One being overthrown But still unhurt, the dagger and the sword On foot. |
| Alysoun |
To death? |
| Lynette |
Until one yield himself, Or else to death. |
| Alysoun |
I hope they will not press Their quarrel harshly. It were sad to lose So fair a knight as either of these men. |
| Lynette |
No, for my part I hope it is to death. To see life hang despairing, calm, and hard Upon its frontier! That is good to watch — Worth one's attention! |
| Helène |
See, they clear the lists! Now comes Sir Lanval. (Murmurs.) |
| Alysoun |
How the people cry! |
| Helène |
Salutes the marshal and retires to arm. |
| Alysoun |
Sir Agravaine in silence does the like. |
| Lynette |
They love him not. How should they know what flame Lives in high hearts. Has a man in him A churlish manner, then the people shout — Like cries to like. |
| Alysoun |
And if Sir Lanval win? |
| Lynette |
As he will not — |
| Alysoun |
Then can the common folk Show some sound judgment. |
| Lynette |
Agravaine will prove Himself the better. |
| Helène |
I think not. |
| Guinevere |
Lynette! What friends support the causes of these knights? |
| Lynette |
Sir Colgrevance and Pertinas are friends To Agravaine. For Lanval, Prince Geraint, Owain, the son of Ryence of North Wales, Are the supporters. |
| Guinevere |
So! A savage pair, Geraint, Owain: they will not lightly seize On enterprise, but make them well assured That they sustain no vessel of slight strength. I have heard much of this strange Lanval's power, But know him not beyond the courtesy That's natural to all of kindly birth. But ye should know. How is it, Alysoun, That one who is apparently upheld By qualities beyond the common scale Comes not among us? |
| Alysoun |
Lady, I know him not Save by report, as kindly, generous, Beyond most men. |
| Guinevere |
That's but a vaporous And stale description. Dost thou know, Lynette, What the man is? |
| Lynette |
I think the common sort Of comely, cunning, poor adventurer, Who has a choice of fashions to advance His scheme of action. This is his device: He loves not ladies, has a brow of care, And feigns a wealth of projects in his mind To get a name for virtue and great gravity. |
| Guinevere |
Is he a fool? |
| Lynette |
I said not so. |
| Guinevere |
Helène, What do men say of him? |
| Helène |
Much good. He's strong, and gentle; and most subtly learned In warlike practice. |
| Guinevere |
I have heard as much; Yet many men with half these qualities Are better known. There's something strange in him. |
| A trumpet. |
|
| Guinevere |
Tell me what passes. |
| Alysoun |
The heralds cry the cause Of this encounter; now announce the names And titles of the knights. Their friends Bring them to answer. |
| All go to the window except Guinevere. |
|
| Helène |
It will not be long, I hope. |
| Lynette |
The signal. |
| A trumpet. |
|
| Lynette |
See, they meet. Well struck! |
| Guinevere |
What is't, Lynette? |
| Lynette |
Each lance clean-hearted broke. They bring fresh spears. |
| Guinevere |
The vantage? |
| Lynette |
Both unhurt. Sir Lanval reeled. |
| Helène |
But Agravaine gave ground. |
| Lynette |
Nay, he did not. |
| Helène |
Look, they ride again. |
| Lynette |
Down! He's down! |
| Helène |
Said I not so, Lynette? |
| Guinevere |
Who is o'erborne? |
| Lynette |
Sir Agravaine is down. |
| Guinevere also goes to window. |
|
| Lynette |
Full on the gorget, down both man and horse. He may retrieve it; he is skilled and fierce. He's up and draws. See, Sir Lanval lights. Now shall the sword prove their arbitrament. |
| Guinevere |
They are well matched. |
| Lynette |
This cannot long endure. (Murmurs.) Sir Agravaine, he's beaten to his knees. |
| Guinevere |
He falls. 'Tis finished. |
| Shouts and applause without. |
|
| Lynette |
Oh, incredible! And Lanval holds his life within his hands; Lanval that has no touch of human fire. |
| Guinevere |
Peace! He will spare him. |
| Lynette |
And thou canst be calm? |
| Guinevere |
Silence! I know Sir Lanval is at heart Of kindly nature. Though Sir Agravaine Has been at fault, as is so clearly proved, This degradation shall bring him no harm. |
| Lynette |
Nay, but the victor doth become possessed Of all the vanquished. He may straight condemn, — Oh, not the gallows! |
| Guinevere |
Peace. Go, Alysoun, And bid Sir Lanval come attend me here. |
| Exit Alysoun (R). |
|
| Guinevere |
Be swift. |
| The other maidens leave Lynette and Guinevere. |
|
| Guinevere |
What is it, fool, dost love Sir Agravaine? |
| Lynette |
No, but 'tis horrible To see a gallant and sweet-favoured man Lie at the feet of a grim follower Of power and war; a priest of policy, A sour disciple of the arts of state In whom's no pleasure, gaiety or wit, But sullen strength. |
| Guinevere |
Think'st thou to so deceive? I see thee, girl. Thou lov'st this Agravaine, And yet for fear would'st not acknowledge it, Thinking that I — by heaven, have a care, Thoughts have a habit of becoming deeds. This that thou lovest lies within the reach Of the dread gallows. Therefore, have a guard Upon thy tongue. There are ends as ill That wait on women who have not the gift Of gentle silence. |
| Re-enter Alysoun. |
|
| Guinevere |
What answer, girl? |
| Alysoun |
Sir Lanval bade me say, That, once disarmed, he would attend on thee. |
| Guinevere |
Nay, it is urgent. Go thou, girl, again, Bid him attend me armed — he is unhurt? |
| Alysoun |
He has no wound. |
| Guinevere |
Go then, and bid him come Instant, accoutred even as he is, Say that I have some reason for request, And earnestly for his attendance plead. |
| Exit Alysoun. |
|
| Guinevere |
Mark me, Lynette, I think this Agravaine Has been thy lover. Is it not so? Fool, What gain is there in a denial. Think; Were I in anger, should I not be kind, Smile on thy love and shortly be avenged? And so I will. I'll beg of Lanval, now, His life and body. Thou shalt have them both. Things that are fallen are of me despised, And interest that I have once displayed Can, like a garment, be soon cast aside. I'll pledge him to thee. Wished I for revenge, Or were I jealous, I could wreak no ill So dangerous. |
| Lynette |
If I am meat for scorn, What food can fill or satisfy the gods That watch on thee? |
| Guinevere |
Have a care, Lynette, For I am minded to be generous. As for this man who is reputed cold, Whose virtues live but in state services, I'll handle him and fashion his device Unto new purpose. Go! |
| Lynette |
Good lady, — |
| Guinevere |
Go. Make me not harsh. |
| Exit Lynette. |
|
| Guinevere |
Why am I curious now, To try the texture of this novel man, Whose gravity is so unnatural? Doth not knights' duty learn them to serve us? Yet, otherwise, he lacks not knightliness; In truth his manner is of seemly sort, And I do wonder — wonder overmuch! Enough, he comes! |
| Enter Lanval. |
|
| Guinevere |
Sir Lanval, pardon me That I enforce thee to attend me here; I have no right to ask of thee a boon, But my request is not for mine own cause; Another sorrow has made me thus bold. Wilt grant a favour? |
| Lanval |
I shall be most glad To do thy pleasure. |
| Guinevere |
I pray thee, sit by me; Nay, but thy arms will hamper thee. |
| Lanval |
Not so. |
| Guinevere |
Let me unarm thee. Nay, it is but just, Since thou wilt grant of thy great courtesy My little asking, that I should be swift To do thee service. (She disarms him.) Now come, sit by me And I will tell thee what the gift shall be Which thou hast granted; is it not? |
| Lanval |
'Tis so. |
| Guinevere |
I have a maid attendant on myself, Who is possessed of love for Agravaine, And now he lies the prisoner of thine arms, Proved to be false, caught in a calumny, And, if thou wilt, upon the edge of death; — I ask his life: it is not hard to give Out of the riches of the hour of gain So small a guerdon. 'Tis a piteous thing That one maid's hopes should hang upon the word — The chance — flung breath of careless victory! |
| Lanval |
Madame, I pray you — I had never thought To push advantage to so foul an end: The world's too fertile in quaint accidents, And change of fortune, to let anger live Beyond its moment. This question overpast, I am so glad to turn to other thoughts That I can keep no malice. There are souls Who, once awakened by the conflict, flushed By quick successes may not hold their hand; I did not think I seemed as one of them. |
| Guinevere |
Forgive me, Lanval. But there are some men Born to be bitter; bred in warlike times, Whose only passion is to range the world, And by its harshness frame their circumstance. Such know no kindness, but are wrought by years Until their texture is indifference. From them the sorrows, gaieties and change, That give the colour to existence, fall And are rebutted as the idle waves By the calm rocks. Even here they move, Behind our pleasures, shadows of grim use. And thou art stern, I thought thee one of them. |
| Lanval |
Thou did'st misjudge me. |
| Guinevere |
Truly I did so: I ask thy pardon. |
| Lanval |
Nay, there is no need; But I am grieved thou did'st anticipate My own poor purpose, since Sir Agravaine Is my possession. I did mean to ask For thine acceptance of his person, arms; His word is pledged as surety for his life That he will serve thee. |
| Guinevere |
Tis a kindly gift: But, though I thank thee, I do need him not. |
| Lanval |
I had hoped else. He is of comely build; Fit to take part in revels, used to courts, Skilled in the custom of all palaces, Holding, in short, the qualities I lack. |
| Guinevere |
I need him not. I would not speak of him. Press me not, Lanval, for I fear thy speech Has in it something of the thoughts debased, That have their kennels in the courts of kings. Never can I shew any favour, smile, Look kindly on, or help young enterprise, But the foul whispers of the watching herds Sneer shame on me. Surely thou didst not Think evil of me? |
| Lanval |
Art thou not my Queen? And am I not the servant of this realm? How then shall I find space to heed such talk? About the passage of our lives there drifts A constant eddy of foul mutterings, Which have no import, truth, or evidence. However clean, our souls must wade waist-deep In ribaldry. Though we disdain such stuff, Full half the world can feed on nothing else. I may have heard; I have not noticed. |
| Guinevere |
True, As all that's in thee! How could they have said Thou wert ungentle, slandered ladies, spoke Indifferent of them! |
| Lanval |
Calumny. |
| Guinevere |
I thought — Was half afraid to ask of thee a gift. Report did have it thou wast near a boor! |
| Lanval |
It flatters seldom. |
| Guinevere |
Lanval, wilt thou blame? — Ye that hold honour high are hard, Swift to rebuke. We women may not seek To find expression in our little strength, So faulty are we and of such slight power, Yet we may kindle sleeping things to fire, And by awakening form a part of them, Till, by good fortune, we may see our spark Light such a beacon that its luminance Makes all men fairer. Thus I caught men up, Tested and failed, and then cast them aside. Have I done wrong? |
| Lanval |
I cannot think so. |
| Guinevere |
Thou Wilt never fail me: Lanval, bear my badge; Be thou my knight! |
| Lanval |
I may not do so. |
| Guinevere |
But to refuse me is no courteous act. Must I believe the common talk was just? I'll not believe it. Thou art not unkind Nor cruel. |
| Lanval |
(aside) God! those words again! |
| Guinevere |
Nay, hear! I stand apart, the watcher of this court, Hungry as any for the spring of worth, And I have listened through the dull sour years To foolish babbling and vain braggart speech: Never have I seen such a one as thee. The power men value, state and exercise, Is in my handling; honour, worship, all — |
| Lanval |
Honour and power are very far apart. |
| Guinevere |
Look at me, Lanval. Have you lust for place, Desire for rule, all these are in my gift. There shall be nothing, nothing in the world, To be denied thee. |
| Lanval |
Madam, my deserts Have not earned this. |
| Guinevere |
I know your merits well, And love you for them. Will you make me speak, When any soul should surely recognise My meaning? |
| Lanval |
I may not. |
| Guinevere |
Why not? Am I not fair? We shall soon forget The foolish customs, detriments that bar Our intercourse, for what are they to us? For I do love thee. Is it shame? What's shame, But discipline to suit a baser sort? |
| Lanval |
I pray you, spare me. |
| Guinevere |
Put me not away, For we are lifted to a pinnacle Whereon stands nothing but ourselves alone, And all else is a sleeping cloud, a mass Of gentle, distant, white inconsequence. |
| Lanval |
I will not. |
| Guinevere |
Wherefore? Hast another love? |
| Lanval |
Nay, I have none. |
| Guinevere |
What can then impede Our loves' progression? If thou lov'st me not, My simple passion shall infect thy blood. Such fire lives in me that my flesh is flame, And I know well, life has no ore to stand So fierce a blast, but that its metalled veins Must yield their substance. |
| Lanval |
What of my fealty, Shall I dishonour all I hold most firm, And play the traitor to my King? |
| Guinevere |
What bonds Of such convention stand against plain life? Can man play master to the natural world, Make laws to hold the elements in place? Why, it is foolish. Let the passions reign, For in their presence all existence stands Free and unfettered. |
| Lanval |
I will not betray My life for lust. |
| Guinevere |
This is false modesty — The state wherein the shackled soul is blind, And may not face the common light of day. If I can bear it, wilt thou be afraid? Come, kiss me, Lanval. I do thee no harm. Why art thou harsh? |
| Lanval |
Let me go, I say. |
| Guinevere |
Why should I so? |
| Lanval |
My fealty is pledged. |
| Guinevere |
So be it, Lanval. Fealty's the term; A fair excuse; and now I see it clear, Life scorns not love unless well fortified By love itself. Thou hast a paramour, And this aped virtue is the mask of vice. Why, I was fool to think there lived a man That spotted not his arms with that disgrace. I pray thy pardon. I myself prefer The common practice that will not disguise Humanity beneath the hypocrite: And I must think I shall be made a sport, A credulous poor being that believed In manhood's truth; my love a jest of clowns, Worn as a garish triumph in base lists! Shall I endure it? |
| Lanval |
And shall I endure This constant insult? If my purpose stand So much assured that no appeals of thine Avail to move it, is that a just cause For insolence? |
| Guinevere |
Insolence? |
| Lanval |
What else? Think'st thou a man should speak as much to me, And pass unharmed? There is a limit, too, To a queen's tongue! I bear as much as most, And I am patient unless pricked too far! |
| Guinevere |
Thus do I gall thee! Be it a challenge then! Swear to me, Lanval, by the blood of Christ, By thine own honour and thy knighthood's oath, By everything that can ensure thy soul Unto the devil if thou art forsworn — Hast thou a love? |
| Lanval |
I love many things: Much of the world, and more that may be hid Beyond its limits. |
| Guinevere |
Hast thou not a love? A keen desire to any woman? Strange Thou dost not answer. Nay, take time, my lord, Evasion springs not easily to lips That speak of honour; and it is even so, The sudden idol of a people's choice, The fortunate applauded aspirant Has human failings. Nay, I blame thee not, Many are thus; shamed to acknowledge sins, That — did they know it — are of greater worth Than all their virtues. But, I fear, the king Is but ill-served with traitors in his court; His council, aided by sleek hypocrites, Earning rewards of virtue undeserved. Therefore I term thee coward, recreant knight, A chance-bred upstart of presumption born! Thou hast deceived me. Take it as a gain That slime can match the sheen of metals true, And filthy favours mock clean services. Need I say more? I pray thee let me pass! |
| Lanval |
One moment, madam: I have some defence. |
| Guinevere |
Defence! I doubt not there's a pretty talk, But I have little patience to endure Its full recital. There are taverns near And other places of foul ill-repute Which can enjoy it. |
| Lanval |
Madam, at the least, Hear my excuse. |
| Guinevere |
If there were excuse, What is't to me? Either thou canst not Be natural or courteous in thy ways — Either thou art a shadow lacking strength; Something inhuman that has crept to us, Wearing the fashion of a very man, And by enchantment gaining men's renown; Or else shame bids thee cover up thy life, Lest the foul taint of thy dishonoured love Smirch thine existence till men turn from thee, And all men know thee for the loathsome thing, The recreant, base coward and defiled! Which shall it be? |
| Lanval |
Neither, by all Heaven! My strength is proved and I am not ashamed. I know I may not hold free speech with thee, Though I endure as much as man can stand Of insult! But this goes too far, And slurs the fairness of my love. |
| Guinevere |
I knew — Some drab — |
| Lanval |
Enough. If there be fault in us, It is that I am worthless and deserve The stale abuse I have received. But she Is much beyond it. God! you offered me The present usage of an ugly lust, The vileness of corruption, when I know Someone so fair beyond the mould of earth That she transcends all beauty that thou hast, As much as dreams, that come to sleeping gods, Outweigh the sweetest of men's slender thoughts! Theres not a maiden that doth wait on her But is thy match in beauty, in all else Thy better! Pass, I will not stay thee now. |
| Exit Guinevere. |
|
| Lanval |
Why did I speak? My God! Did I not swear Myself to silence? Never again, O fool! My tongue has sped me. Why could I not rule So base a passion? Fool that I am, O fool! |
| Enter Owain, overhearing his last words. |
|
| Owain |
Fool! It is true, he has some wisdom then! |
| Enter Geraint, Astamor and Meliard. |
|
| Owain |
Well wrought, Sir Lanval. |
| Geraint |
Said I not so, Owain? I knew he had the power. Well fought, my friend; Henceforth our fortunes shall go hand in hand. Come, look not stern, for this should be the day To crown thy service. |
| Astamor |
Sir Lanval, here's my hand, I have misjudged you. |
| Meliard |
I the same. |
| Geraint |
I knew. |
| Curtain |