| ACT IV. SCENE II. Another part of the forest. The ground rises at back of stage to a ridge. Beyond in the distance a line of wooded hills faint in the moonlight. As the Act continues the dawn begins, and towards the end of the Act a red light beats up out of the valley. When the scene opens it is nearly dark, the moon slanting through the branches in places. Time. Three days elapse between Scenes I and II. The two charcoal-burners are conversing in a low tone. |
|
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
And now youve dragged me four mile and more, what's the trouble? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Do you know the light of burning thatch? |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Surely. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Well I've seen it away north, and I've seen a mort of men down over the ford, and that's enough to bring me to the woods. I fetched you along to be neighbourly. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
And them over the ford, they'll be knights? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
They're none of ours, and anyhow we're best clear of them. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Foreigners? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
'Tis likely. There's a sight of strangers cutting into the land, or we'd have had no need to shift hereabouts. And now we're best away south again. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Why, we're safe enough here. Though I'm not fond of the woods after dark. There's more in them than I care to meet. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Likely enough. I'll not call you a liar for that. But speaking of fears, do ye mind a knight that was lost, and came near getting us hemp collars? |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Sure I do. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
He's lost again. I saw him yester noon, a-ravaging through the woods like a rutting stag. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Never! |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
I'm honest enough. 'Tis the same man. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
D' ye think theyll pay for his finding again? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
He seems middling precious. Any way, I marked him down. Yes, I've harboured him. Now if any tufter comes, we'll stand fast and make our price. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Halves. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
I'll give you your share, no more. He's my find. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
You're a mean stoat. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
See here, man, I've treated you neighbourly. Look yonder, where our huts are. What's there? |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Smoke! |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Aye, you've need to be glad you're not being cured. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Let's get out of this! |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
And leave my find? Not I! It wants an hour of dawn: we're sure enough till the light comes. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Still! I heard a branch crack. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
This side. |
| Enter Bernardo. |
|
| Bernardo |
Just to this ridge! I dare not go beyond. If he have passed it, there's an end of all. Why, what are ye? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Poor men, sir. |
| Bernardo |
Stand away: If old, I'm not unhandy. Of what race Are ye? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Good sir, my father was a minder of cows, but I have an uncle that was follower of a great lord at Bassa, till they hanged him. |
| Bernardo |
Of what possession are you? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Of my uncle's, sir. |
| Bernardo |
What's that? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Why, doing well until you're hanged for it. Doing as you're told and keeping away from any that can tell you; making a profit with two spears' length start of the dealer; being a very firm upholder of all wars where others do the fighting. My trade is charcoal burning. |
| Bernardo |
You know this country? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Well enough. |
| Bernardo |
Have you Or your companions seen a wandering knight? |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
A wild fellow in a mail shirt, wandering and cursing? A man that goes fingering the rough bark of trees, and frowning and stumbling all across the woods? Such a one? |
| Bernardo |
It might be so. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
I'll lead you to him — at a price. |
| Bernardo |
There is no need. |
| Lanval enters behind and halts in (C) of stage. |
|
| Bernardo |
Sir Lanval! Good, my lord Will you not answer? |
| Lanval turns away. |
|
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
There's ungratefulness! He's come a-purpose, lest we might be paid For finding him. |
| Bernardo |
Sir, I have known you long And merit not such usage. |
| Lanval |
Is there not A single refuge or forgotten spot Where this dogged custom fails? |
| Bernardo |
My lord, I heartened you some years ago, when dull And discontented you abjured this land, So hear me now. |
| Lanval |
Bernardo, all my rage Was vented then upon the world. But since, I've learnt to blame myself, not circumstance. |
| Bernardo |
Is this the man that faced all Mantua, And held his honour up against the world? |
| Lanval |
Aye, this is he. What would you of the ghost Which once was man? |
| Bernardo |
My lord, I knew you well When I was active. But the bitter clime, The raw fierce action of this troubled state Has wrinkled us together. And we yearn alike For the fair spaces of the southern coasts. |
| Lanval |
I shall not see them. Nor do I desire To gain such ease. |
| Bernardo |
My lord, in Italy — |
| Lanval |
I have forsworn it. I have cursed all lands, And yet, Bernardo, thou dost not believe That I am guilty? |
| Bernardo |
Nay, my lord, I know It is not just. |
| Lanval |
Such faith should soften me, Whom certain ills have hardened. |
| Bernardo |
O my lord, Come hence with me. |
| Lanval |
Wherefore should I? |
| Bernardo |
There's room For honour yet abroad. |
| Lanval |
Is there a court In Christendom where it will not be known That I'm dishonoured? Let the stripling fools Who follow fame seek honour at my hands: For here's a man whose death would bring them worth, Since I am one with savage, beast and thief, And not as worthy as the butchering lords That foul these borders. No, give me a bell, And let me sound my coming to all men As do the lepers: let them step aside And shirk the wrong they gave me. |
| Bernardo |
But my lord — |
| Lanval |
No, no, Bernardo. Leave me as I am. These woods are kinder than the paths of men: They give me shelter, but the bitter souls Whom I have served have taken everything. I squandered on them liking, wealth and life, And they return me scorn. What is there left? They've had my service, honour, youth and name; They sucked my being: at a harlot's word They spat me out. This mire is honesty. This thicket clearness, and the sleeting night Warm covering, while I remember them. |
| Bernardo |
Your wrath is just, but bear a little while With the sour treatment of the world. And then We'll toss the past, its broken shafts and shields Into a corner. |
| Lanval |
Can faith live so long? You should know man. |
| Bernardo |
I do. |
| Lanval |
Yet you'd persuade Me back to them. Nay, I am better here. Naught's fair in dreams but some reality, And in the real nothing's good but dreams. Here I come closer to essential things, Here will I stand before the veil of life And wait its lifting. |
| Bernardo |
But, my lord, our foes — The white-shield Angles lie beyond this vale, Lovers of blood who spare no living thing. |
| Lanval |
And what of them? They can but add my death To my account, and that's a certain debt Which all must pay. They'll pile no infamy Upon my name; they'll not first fondle me, Then spurn me like a dog. I shall be glad To meet with them; for such sword-ending is Most honourable treatment. |
| Bernardo |
Hark, my lord, I hear men's movement in the valley, feet That crush the bracken. Come away, my lord. |
| Lanval |
Stand to it, fool, this is as kind a spot As we shall find. |
| A noise in the valley. |
|
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
Come away, man, there are some good thick places near here. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
He owes me something for finding him. |
| Charcoal-burner 1 |
You'll be paid with a clout, if I know the look of man. |
| Charcoal-burner 2 |
Well, lets get away, then. |
| Exeunt the two charcoal-burners. |
|
| Lanval |
Go thou, Bernardo. |
| Bernardo |
Nay, my lord, I stay, At least stand here in shadow. They may pass. |
| Enter from back Geraint, Gyfert and several men-at-arms. |
|
| Geraint |
Back, Beric, tell thy captain that his posts Must watch the ford; if 'saulted, hold their ground As best they can, and bid him send to me Report of any movement. |
| Exit man-at-arms. |
|
| Geraint |
(To remainder) Take your rest. You sent a runner, Gyfert, to the south; Has he returned? |
| Gyfert |
Not yet, my lord. |
| Geraint |
We've swinged The hornets' nest, and left them buzzing. |
| Gyfert goes to the ridge and comes back. |
|
| Gyfert |
Still As yet. |
| Geraint |
Too quiet, they'll be up anon And we shall feel them. Oh, a thousand men! Only a thousand of my moorland glaives, And all the rest of Britain could stand off And see me match them! |
| Gyfert |
(Moving across the stage) We've a clear space here — At least for action. Out, you skulking dogs! (He sees Bernardo and Lanval.) Out of the shadow! |
| Geraint |
(Striding across to Gyfert) Why, what's here? Old man! This is no place for long-beards. By the saints! Bernardo! Lanval! Sure the fates have changed Their ancient purpose: but how came ye here? Why, Lanval, didst thou fly me? I had meant As surety to bring thee to this war, Where we might gather honour. Thou art come Alone, unarmed! |
| Lanval |
I came of my own will, With but one purpose, to be free of all The cankering trouble of your squalid state, But I can find no refuge. Let me go, I seek some covert like a wounded beast, Where I can brood to death. |
| Geraint |
I know the cause Of this despair. Give me your hand. Think now I hold dishonour? Has my grasp a lack Of strength in it? |
| Lanval |
Thou hast been friend to me Beyond my merit. I have been so pricked In comradeship that I must do the last Good deed of kinship. Let me go, Geraint, I am pollution, although innocent. I shall infect the fashion of thy days, Draw the black wings of sour suspicion down Upon thy being. I am a man condemned, Pronounced degraded, and no innocence Can change my fashion. Let me go. I spoil Thy whole existence. I am outcast now. |
| Geraint |
I need thy service. |
| Lanval |
My best service is To stand as far as may be from thy path. |
| Geraint |
I tell thee, Lanval, I'll not hear of this. The swollen torrent of grim circumstance Swept us together, and upon its flood Have we come down. I know not why we met, Nor do I care so greatly for the cause Of our adherence. It is possible To make a virtue of one's tendencies, When by some chance an instinct follows straight On kindly endings. I am not acting now As chosen helper of true worth distressed, But I do this because I'll not be baulked Of what I please; and, to be frank, I think My liking for thee is but selfishness. Condemned or not, I hold my course the same. Let us abide it. |
| Lanval |
Is it not enough That I must suffer for such sodden crime As I ne'er dreamt on. Is it not enough That I must drift upon the sullen stream, Like some wan lily of the autumn time, In which the fairness and the flavours dead; A thing repugnant, destined to the ooze That beds the river? God! the little good That I can do thee is to leave this place, Or to rush idly on my fate beyond. |
| Geraint |
I say thou shalt not. If need be, I stay Thy passage hence, e'en by the force of arms. Come, man! I thought there was more mettle here Than such abasement shows. Art thou So much a coward that the foolish fates Have but to strike and thou art recreant? Honour's no virgin to be easy soiled By life's first contact. There is naught we lose Which we may not hack out of time again, If we but hold the courage to outface Our bitter fortunes. |
| Lanval |
Think not that I fear To see my life out: but foul influence Rules all my doings. |
| Geraint |
Thou hast cause for wrath, But rage should not be wasted on oneself While work's toward. Dishonour's drowned in blood, And names grow taintless in the fire of war. |
| Lanval |
Why wilt thou drag me to the profitless And empty quarrel of this bitten realm? I am aweary of it. |
| Geraint |
And I am no less. Lanval, see this, my will has been the spur Of all thine action. I have linked my life To thine: and so have I accepted share Of all thy burdens. In the ills thou hast, I am a partner: if thou knowest shame, I am not scatheless. Twice have I withstood The carelessness and idle scorn of man From faith in thee. Once, I did stake my lands And my subsistence on thy hardiness. I was not wrong: again I staked belief And risked my honour and my upright name, Which, believe me, I love as much as thou, Upon the shadow of thy good repute. Now our acquaintance is no longer new, And time puts our relation to the proof. Let us be honest. I have stood for thee, Enacted treason, spurned old comradeship To stand thy helper. Now it seems I lied, And all I did for honour is become A very falseness. |
| Lanval |
How? |
| Geraint |
I was constrained By some strange liking for another type, A stamp of being distant from myself, To spend my life, my power and influence Upon a man in whom I snuffed the scent Of a clean being. Now are we at holds. |
| Lanval |
Say on, Geraint. |
| Geraint |
All men speak ill of thee: I count opinion lesser than the turn Of any pennant. But I doubt all now. I cannot think that this spiritless poor husk Is the same man I chose from out the herd Who strove for honour. Was I too deceived, And do men rightly call thee but a dog, A common trickster and a hypocrite? |
| Lanval |
Wilt thou believe it? |
| Geraint |
Only from thy lips, Yet these strange actions must incline me to it. The thought's not sweet, but still be frank with me, For I meet disillusion as all else, Stoutly enough. |
| Lanval |
I had but this to lose! God! is there yet another rag to tear From beggary? |
| Geraint |
Now it is thine to loose Or bind our friendship. I did never ask A service of you but to turn its use To your advancement. I have served your cause In many fashions and not selfishly. You squandered substance and I spent my years, Now those you dowered have forgotten you, And you, I fancy, have forgotten me. Yet should you care to pay my years with hours, And let me hold illusion to the end, It will not grieve me. Lanval, stand by me, Play man to my man! Be again to me The friend I trusted. |
| Lanval |
Wilt compel me then? |
| Geraint |
That's not my answer. |
| Lanval |
I'll not say "accept," But "take" my life: for I have nothing left Beyond the usage of my hands. Take this, Cast it to feed what purposes you will. It has no merit, value or regard; Such as it is, I give it — a free gift From now till death. |
| Geraint |
And I will take it so. Fate's herald holds the trumpet to his lips, And we stand ready in the lists of life To challenge fortune. But thou hast no arms! Bernardo! |
| Bernardo |
Prince. |
| Geraint |
Have you equipment near? |
| Bernardo |
Not far, my lord. |
| Geraint |
Go thou and bring it here. |
| Exit Bernardo. |
|
| Geraint |
My course is laid, and not a storm of change Shall turn me from it. |
| Enter Gyfert. |
|
| Gyfert |
Our runner is returned. He found Owain with levies of North Wales. They come to help us. |
| Geraint |
Could he hear no word Of the King's forces? |
| Gyfert |
No. |
| Geraint |
The dawn is near! Advise me, Lanval. I do need thy skill, Should Arthur come not ere the light reveals Our present weakness, we shall be hard set To hold this passage. |
| Enter Captain. Do they move? |
|
| Captain |
My lord, There is a sound of motion in their camp, And certain horsemen have already crossed The ford beneath us. |
| Geraint |
Can ye hold them? |
| Captain |
No. I think, my lord, they move with the intent To seize upon the vantage of this ridge Before the day. |
| Geraint |
They may not so intend. What think'st thou, Lanval? |
| Lanval |
I believe it true. It is their custom to attack at dawn, If they suspect not we shall be renewed, And know our forces to be much reduced, They will endeavour to destroy at once This band of ours. I counsel thee attack And bring confusion. |
| Geraint |
We have not the strength. |
| Lanval |
The Duke of Cornwall cannot now be far, Owain is near. If we do lose this place The issue's doubtful. Check them, and surprise Leaves them half-hearted, unprepared to meet Our armies' onset. Hold them at all costs. |
| Geraint |
Should Arthur fail? |
| Lanval |
We fall in either case, If we oppose them not. |
| Geraint |
Gyfert, my arms. |
| Enter a man-at-arms. |
|
| Man |
My lord, their forces have o'erpast the ford, And drive our posts. |
| Alarms and noise off. |
|
| Geraint |
Back ye, and hold the ground |
| Exeunt Captain and man. |
|
| Geraint |
Until my coming. Up, all Devon's men, Let battle-hunger seize upon your limbs, And bring you aching for the food of death. |
| Lanval |
Come, let us go. |
| Geraint |
While thou art still unarmed? |
| Lanval |
(To Gyfert.) Lend me a sword. |
| Geraint |
No, Lanval, I command This much obedience. Till Bernardo brings His armament, do thou hold here the half Of these my forces to be our support, And then employ them as occasion turns. |
| The men file off. Geraint goes a few steps and then turns back to Lanval. |
|
| Lanval |
I must obey. |
| Geraint |
The hour is dark and strange. Lanval, should this our day of severance prove, As well it may be, let us fall assured Of our relation. When I said I served Your cause in pureness, I perceive I lied. No, let me speak. Unthinkingly I strove To turn a being to an instrument. It was ill done. Perhaps we'll have no time, And no occasion to be clear henceforth. We have been much together, and I think Our ends will not be distant. Knowing this, I give you absolution from all vows Of friendship. |
| Lanval |
Nay, Geraint. |
| Geraint |
God guard you well. If this be not our hour, the hour will come Which we must meet; let then our manner hold Until that time. But should our lot decree We meet no more — in such a case: farewell! |
| Lanval |
Farewell, Geraint. |
| Geraint |
Thou, Gyfert, stay with him. |
| Exit Geraint; increased alarms. |
|
| Lanval |
One righteous man who's fool enough to think That I am worthy. One friend who forces me To do him wrong. The hooks of hell are fast In all my being. I am manacled With a cold bondage I have forged myself. And how much simpler will the world become For many men when I am dead! My end Will be a kindness. |
| Enter Owain, Meliard and a force. |
|
| Owain |
They have joined too soon. Split legions in a forest and the odds Are 'gainst good timing. What are ye? |
| Lanval |
Reserves Of Prince Geraint. |
| Owain |
I want an honest man To answer me. |
| Gyfert |
He leads us. |
| Owain |
God defend You from his leading. You! I do not know With what good reason you afflict our paths. The common outcome of our judgment is That malefactors are enforced to feel Their punishment. The sutlers, and the scum Of ragged thieves who haunt our armies' march, Should be behind. |
| Meliard |
This is too harsh, Owain! |
| Owain |
Peace, you. But I am glad that you are dumb: Shame marks a vestige of your former state. Now better it, and get you out from us. You, Gyfert, follow us. |
| Gyfert |
My lord, We have our orders. |
| Owain |
And a cur to lead! Not gone yet, fool? Out of my path, you dog. |
| Strikes Lanval, who reels back. |
|
| Meliard |
A dog's stroke too! The man's not even armed! |
| Gyfert half draws. |
|
| Owain |
Honour protects no vermin! What, my friend, Will you shew teeth? |
| Lanval |
Nay, Gyfert, hold your hand. |
| Alarms off. |
|
| Owain |
Hearken, they're to it. Our good game begins. Out, swords, and follow! |
| Exeunt Owain, Meliard, and their men. |
|
| Lanval |
I am come so low, I have no word to answer censure with, No record to run counter to reproach. Even these men stand shamed to follow me. |
| Gyfert |
It is not so, Sir Lanval, we do not Forget old battles. |
| Lanval |
I remember now. I led you once upon the fields of Clyde, And once at Stirling. Take our forces on: There is a hillock which doth lie beyond The ridge we hold. Ye know it. |
| Gyfert |
Aye, we do. |
| Lanval |
Thence we can lend assistance in short space Where it is needed. Should by chance I fail To give the signal and direction, use Thine own discernment. |
| Gyfert |
I will do so, sir! |
| Exeunt Gyfert and men-at-arms. Lanval is left alone. |
|
| Lanval |
Geraint should hold the passage of that line Sufficiently; and yet becoming weak, Will tempt these Angles to renewed assaults, Whereon an army coming fresh with day Will grip the issue. All will be success, But I can have no share in it again. A parasite that like the sucking-fish Is borne about the spaces of the world By one more powerful! No, there is no hope, No refuge and no purpose in my life, But to live on like some outlying wolf Too savage even for the hungry pack. Or to go mocked, the client of a prince, Licking the crumbs of honour from his floor. No, I am sure that life's not tenable Upon such terms. And therefore let us end. If I gained heaven she would not be there, So 'tis no heaven! If I earned a hell She has not done so, therefore 'tis no hell! I should be tearing at my heart by now, Playing Prometheus to my own regrets, And yet I'm numb. Sensation has its end, And all our feeling to exhaustion comes. So, life's a silence, death an incident Which to our dreaming puts a period. If dreams are evil, one has but to wake Into the darkness. Come, I'll look for it Beyond that ridge. It is not hard to find, And worth the seeking! |
| As he prepares to go out, Triamour appears. |
|
| Triamour |
Lanval! |
| Lanval |
I have done With all these dreams, and I had hoped to pass Unhindered hence. |
| Triamour |
Why? Art thou not content With all the honours, merits and rewards The world doth give thee? |
| Lanval |
There's no need to mock, The hour is past when I entreated help: True there are times which do one's memory hurt, Whose quick remembrance stabs one's soul with hate, And makes one loth to look upon the beast That this has been; for I have raved and foamed, Spent all my soul in crying for thine aid, And brought my manhood into such a pass That reason's self could not well recognise Such bestial stuff to be the frame of man, Wherein she wrought. But that is overpast. There is no scorn can touch the heart of me, And no reproach but is an idle tale Too oft repeated. All I am is ash, The cindered fragment of a billet cast By God or chance into time's furnaces, And now the shadow is come down on me. |
| Triamour |
Is it not pleasant — man's acknowledgment? Surely all love thee for thine excellence! |
| Lanval |
Be not so hard. I learnt my impotence, And God has gently cleansed my vanity. |
| Triamour |
So the same shame that drove thee from mine arms, Still dogs thy courses? |
| Lanval |
No, I've learnt enough, And know myself an ordinary soul, No way distinguished from the common mass, No way their better. I am very low, And have no feeling but an envious hope Of better things. Yet I am not shamed, For there's a passion which must cry for stars, Cry from the body of a beast that crawls Upon this surface for the face of God. I am not shamed, for while the spirit lives Man must lust high. |
| Triamour |
There is no more to learn; The world has done with all thy services. |
| Confused noises off. |
|
| Triamour |
This time is dying. Listen to the call! Insurgent peoples waken from their sleep — Race, tribe and nation. In the flux of war All old ordainments spin to their decease. I did not blame thee or reproach thy choice, When thy disdain preferred the world to me, And I change not. I know no fickleness, But have in patience hungered for this hour, All the old offrance of a state of peace Awaits thee still. Ah, Lanval, I have loved, And been so patient. |
| Lanval |
I was never worth A portion of such kindness. I'd have talked Of love in days whose dawn I shall not see. God knows I loved you, but love whips my soul To the same end life spurred me to, since I Have found existence folly. Let me go And get some credit in the end of it. |
| Triamour |
Wilt leave me? |
| Lanval |
I am pledged Unto Geraint. |
| Triamour |
If thou canst leave me now, We shall not meet at any time again, But part for ever. Each shall sink at last Into the gulf of uncreated things, And have no knowledge of the other's end. Thou hast forgotten — |
| Lanval |
Come — the end! the end! Tempt not my nature; while he lives, I hold (A shout off.) Unto Geraint. |
| Triamour |
Geraint is dead. |
| Lanval |
He's dead? I sent him to it: sent my only friend To find his death! Hes better dead than friend Or kind to me! God help me, I am cursed! Oh let me die, then I can do no hurt To any one! |
| Triamour |
Choose, then, the time is short. Geraint is dead, slain by thy foolishness; This battle lost. |
| Lanval |
Arthur must come. |
| Triamour |
He's far, He will not come. Choose! Be with me or die, And let our love immediate be dissolved. The gates are closing. Wilt thou hold the world? |
| Lanval |
The King comes not. Can I do nothing right? Always so foolish and unfortunate. Geraint is dead. He was a noble knight — God rest his soul. |
| Triamour |
(aside) His soul awaits thine own. |
| Lanval |
All's lost, my friend, my faith and e'en my use, Take me away. |
| Triamour |
Now, Lanval, in this kiss Lies the best boon the spirit gives to man. Come swift, the gates swing in upon thy soul; Give me thy being. |
| Lanval |
It is done. |
| Triamour |
Then I Give thee the last! the kindest gift of all — Release! |
| Darkness. Lanval reels and falls. When the stage lightens Triamour has disappeared, but the body of Lanval lies across the centre. Increased alarms. The dawn begins to lighten the scene, at the same time a red glow increases at the back. Enter Arthur, Cador, Gawain, Agravaine, Astamor and a force. |
|
| Arthur |
Halt here. Go thou, Gawain, and seek This conflict's meaning. |
| Exit Gawain. |
|
| Arthur |
We are not too soon, For see the pallor which precedes the birth Of the wan day. |
| Agravaine |
Here is an early fruit Of this encounter. |
| Arthur |
Who is it? |
| Agravaine |
No man Of consequence. His mail is thin and torn, And he's not armoured. |
| Cador |
Yet, Astamor, I think I know that shape. |
| Arthur |
No, let it be, Cador, Whate'er his rank he'll wait full patiently For the last service. |
| Arthur talks aside to Cador. |
|
| Agravaine |
(Turns the body over.) Lanval, as I live! |
| Astamor |
Lanval! |
| Agravaine |
Quiet. We'll not interfere. Let him alone. |
| Astamor |
How did he die? |
| Agravaine |
God knows. We'll serve no purpose in revealing this: He'll not have long to wait for company, And I'll not grudge him half an hour of hell. |
| Astamor |
The King should know it. |
| Agravaine |
Why? The man's forgot As soon as dead. Here ends an episode, One of those little tangled businesses, Which colour our existence for a space, And then slip down the years. We fought Only a week since and I had the worst. He was a very tall man of his hands, Yet I am living and he's safe and dead. Strange, Astamor, that I, the only one Who ever came by any harm from him, Should so regret him. |
| Arthur |
Hark, Cador, who's here? |
| Enter Gawain. |
|
| Arthur |
What now, Gawain? How goes it? |
| Gawain |
Well for us, Our slender van has held most gallantly The ridge beyond us. |
| Arthur |
Nobly done. |
| Gawain |
Geraint Is dead. |
| Arthur |
We'll venge him — |
| Gawain |
But Owain Doth hold the field. The Angles are confused And stand uncertain. We have but to strike. |
| Arthur |
Art sure, Gawain? |
| Gawain |
I know not how it comes, But if some spirit who did favour us Designed this moment, he could not do more For victory. |
| Alarms. |
|
| Agravaine |
Strike, Sire! |
| Arthur |
I will. Ye lords And 'sembled barons of this British realm, Reveal your favour. Set my standards on, Let the red dragon flame above our helms. Up, all ye lances that defend this state, All hearts that bar oppression, and all blades That stand for Britain. 'Tis the hour at last Wherein we triumph, and henceforth our foe Shall know this valley by the name of woe. |
| Exeunt. Curtain. |