Cuesheet

Lanval

Lines spoken by Bernardo (Total: 251)

 
(1, 1) 14 Keep to the line, lad, let the field be bright
(1, 1) 15 And the device well marked.
 
(1, 1) 17 Pure
(1, 1) 18 In line and colour. {To Apprentice 1.} Bring that vambrace here,
(1, 1) 19 Tis not ill done.
 
(1, 1) 21 And so it is, but I'm not satisfied
(1, 1) 22 With competence; or I were still a smith
(1, 1) 23 A common craftsman in far Mantua
(1, 1) 24 And not Bernardo, once the armourer
(1, 1) 25 Of Milan's court. See, here the work is rough
(1, 1) 26 And somewhat careless.
 
(1, 1) 28 Nay, let it stand till I have time for it.
(1, 1) 29 Look you, my lad, this art of ours is rare
(1, 1) 30 And needs long service. I am old enough
(1, 1) 31 To know that I shall never learn it well.
 
(1, 1) 33 And test it well, for I believe it strained.
 
(1, 1) 35 Then out with it, my lad.
(1, 1) 36 Death's a lean fellow, and needs little space
(1, 1) 37 To make his entry. Rivet it again.
(1, 1) 38 A life's no stronger than its slightest hour
(1, 1) 39 Nor any armour than its weakest spot.
 
(1, 1) 41 Have care of it. I mind in Milan once—
(1, 1) 42 I'll tell you sometime. Now go on with it.
(1, 1) 43 How often, boy, must I repeat my words,
(1, 1) 44 Though hard, a metal's not a rock to hack
(1, 1) 45 As if it were a quarry, but a form
(1, 1) 46 Worth some consideration. Yes, this steel
(1, 1) 47 Has its own texture and its qualities,
(1, 1) 48 And we must watch them. Iron has its use,
(1, 1) 49 Bronze its own nature, steel its services,
(1, 1) 50 All much akin, yet very different,
(1, 1) 51 And I'd as soon take knife to my own flesh
(1, 1) 52 As mangle metal with that tool of yours.
(1, 1) 53 Work with the line and not across the grain
(1, 1) 54 And see your play grows not too hot, for warmth
(1, 1) 55 Draws out the soul of steel. Go on.
 
(1, 1) 57 Come, we'll test it then.
(1, 1) 58 Give me a dagger. See, this is a life,
(1, 1) 59 Here is the gorget, here would be the throat,
(1, 1) 60 And I am fate in ambush 'gainst this life.
(1, 1) 61 I strike it thus; the work is sound enough,
(1, 1) 62 Ready for fracture in to-morrow's deeds.
 
(1, 1) 64 That such meet work is marred?
(1, 1) 65 It's nature's way. All's made for breaking here
(1, 1) 66 This linked defence and grievous instruments
(1, 1) 67 For its destruction. Yet we make them both.
(1, 1) 68 Either our blades can bite thro' our strong mail,
(1, 1) 69 Or else these links can turn our finest edge.
(1, 1) 70 We dress the balance of the world, my lad,
(1, 1) 71 For all the virtues and the strength of man
(1, 1) 72 Fare ill in life without the armourer.
 
(1, 1) 74 Ah, Gyfert! Welcome!
 
(1, 1) 77 I think
(1, 1) 78 Eight months.
 
(1, 1) 81 Ye have been active then?
(1, 1) 82 Whence are ye come?
 
(1, 1) 86 You have need of me?
 
(1, 1) 88 Come, let me see them.
 
(1, 1) 90 Truly they have. I cannot make them good
(1, 1) 91 Before the morrow.
 
(1, 1) 94 You do not need them then
(1, 1) 95 To-morrow?
 
(1, 1) 97 Tis the last,
(1, 1) 98 The final meeting of our summer court.
(1, 1) 99 To-day is Pentecost!
 
(1, 1) 105 The Prince of Devon then
(1, 1) 106 Will break no lance to-morrow.
 
(1, 1) 112 Sir Lamorak.
 
(1, 1) 114 Gawain.
 
(1, 1) 116 His brother Agravaine.
 
(1, 1) 118 Aye, he is much advanced
(1, 1) 119 In strength and favour.
 
(1, 1) 122 He's a gallant soul.
 
(1, 1) 127 Who is
(1, 1) 128 My countryman?
 
(1, 1) 130 He is not.
(1, 1) 131 Why, he was bred in wild Armorica,
(1, 1) 132 A land that will not suckle her own seed,
(1, 1) 133 But casts them out to batten on the world.
 
(1, 1) 135 There are no better knights
(1, 1) 136 In Christendom.
 
(1, 1) 139 True, an Italian lord
(1, 1) 140 Adopted him. But he still bears these arms,
(1, 1) 141 Argent a bend of vert, no heraldry
(1, 1) 142 Of my far country.
 
(1, 1) 145 No one; he took no part,
(1, 1) 146 Nor have I seen him for some days.
 
(1, 1) 151 In the third ward, I think.
 
(1, 1) 155 I'll see to it.
 
(1, 1) 157 Come, lad, now let us work.
(1, 1) 158 The hour grows late. Here is Sir Lanval's blade.
(1, 1) 159 This was not used in gentle passages,
(1, 1) 160 But has been bitten by opposing swords.
(1, 1) 161 We must re-edge it. There's good stuff in this.
(1, 1) 162 A proper weapon should lie thus in hand,
(1, 1) 163 Leashed like a hound unto its handler's mind,
(1, 1) 164 Straining and hungering for the sentient force
(1, 1) 165 That shall oppose it.
 
(1, 1) 167 None better, lad; they do not know him well,
(1, 1) 168 Whom I have heard speak lightly of his strength.
(1, 1) 169 There are not many in all Arthur's realm
(1, 1) 170 Who can o'ermatch him.
 
(1, 1) 173 I remember him
(1, 1) 174 In Mantua when he was young, unknown,
(1, 1) 175 And saw him step from that subservience
(1, 1) 176 To eminence. He often spoke with me,
(1, 1) 177 And talked of arms and manners of defence.
(1, 1) 178 Come, let us work. For in to-morrow's play
(1, 1) 179 Is half war's danger; no man must reproach
(1, 1) 180 The aids we give him.
 
(1, 1) 184 We are pressed, my lord.
 
(1, 1) 188 We armourers — give me the hammer, boy —
(1, 1) 189 Like to imagine that the case we frame
(1, 1) 190 Outweighs in value all that it shall hold,
(1, 1) 191 And that our work is the best part of nature's,
(1, 1) 192 Seeing that man lies fenceless to the world
(1, 1) 193 Unless we aid him. 'Tis a small conceit.
 
(1, 1) 198 In a little space,
(1, 1) 199 We would do justice to so fair a task.
 
(1, 1) 203 Not so ill, my lord.
(1, 1) 204 Mark you this boy, his skill shall equal mine
(1, 1) 205 An I be spared to teach him.
 
(1, 1) 207 It's true enough; he has the touch, my lord,
(1, 1) 208 The quality and feeling for this art,
(1, 1) 209 But wants instruction. For I know full well
(1, 1) 210 The certainty that's needed for this toil
(1, 1) 211 Will halt and tremble.
 
(1, 1) 213 But I grow old, for come next Martinmas
(1, 1) 214 'Tis ten full years since I left Italy;
(1, 1) 215 I was not young the time that Mantua
(1, 1) 216 Half worshipped thee.
 
(1, 1) 222 I shall die here, my lord.
 
(1, 1) 225 A gauntlet for the joust,
(1, 1) 226 Sir Agravaine's.
 
(1, 1) 233 They are good pieces all.
(1, 1) 234 We have so much of armour bent and hurt
(1, 1) 235 By bitter onslaughts of the Picts and Scots
(1, 1) 236 That we are 'mazed that from the hundred acts,
(1, 1) 237 The fierce attainments and strange accidents
(1, 1) 238 Of such a war this handiwork comes back —
(1, 1) 239 Worn, it is true, but none the less well fit
(1, 1) 240 For future service.
 
(1, 1) 250 Not shamed, my lord; this land is proud and dull,
(1, 1) 251 And harsher in the value which it sets
(1, 1) 252 Upon its servants than all other states.
(1, 1) 253 This people slowly puts suspicion off,
(1, 1) 254 And slower still divests it of belief.
(1, 1) 255 Be patient with them.
 
(1, 1) 264 The Duke of Cornwall praised your enterprise,
(1, 1) 265 And swore no knight of Arthur's court could lead
(1, 1) 266 To better purpose.
 
(1, 1) 272 In a moment, lord.
(1, 1) 273 For it, as thou, waits on accomplishment.
(1, 1) 274 Sir, I am old, and have watched many knights,
(1, 1) 275 And might make play to hearten discontent.
(1, 1) 276 Have I thy leave?
 
(1, 1) 280 My lord, this humour is a youthful mood,
(1, 1) 281 The fretting of a soul untrained, who feels
(1, 1) 282 The bit of fortune curb his stride half way
(1, 1) 283 Adown the lists. There are more courses yet,
(1, 1) 284 And to show sourness is ungenerous.
 
(1, 1) 286 To-night?
 
(1, 1) 297 My lord, let me provide
(1, 1) 298 Arms for to-morrow.
 
(1, 1) 301 For our old friendship's sake,
(1, 1) 302 Let me provide such arms as fit your rank.
(1, 1) 303 Why, in a tournay one can win the wealth
(1, 1) 304 Of a vast province in a single stroke,
(1, 1) 305 Take prisoners, or hold the petty kings
(1, 1) 306 To guard or ransom.
 
(1, 1) 309 Geraint?
 
(1, 1) 314 But the king is kind.
 
(1, 1) 318 But he is just —
 
(1, 1) 321 The Queen —
 
(1, 1) 334 My lord, this court is not o'erfilled with men,
(1, 1) 335 But its defences are hewn out from it
(1, 1) 336 As flakes of metal from old armour fall.
(1, 1) 337 Saxon and Scot, the Picts and outland men
(1, 1) 338 Lie ever restless on our boundaries.
(1, 1) 339 Each day may bring the messengers of war
(1, 1) 340 And set our standards in the field again,
(1, 1) 341 So do not leave us.
 
(1, 1) 344 Go not, my lord. I have none else to speak
(1, 1) 345 The southern tongue, or raise remembrances
(1, 1) 346 Of Italy.
 
(1, 1) 348 I am too old, and must endure my days
(1, 1) 349 In these grey places. Death were easier there,
(1, 1) 350 For he comes laughing with the sun and dust.
(1, 1) 351 I wish I could.
 
(1, 1) 362 Farewell,
(1, 1) 363 My lord and friend. I would that I could go.
(1, 1) 364 At least I'll speed thee.
 
(1, 1) 519 For the tournay, lord.
 
(1, 1) 521 Why so, my lord?
 
(1, 1) 593 Sir Lanval is gone hence.
 
(1, 1) 595 He said he longed for Italy.
 
(1, 1) 597 I know not.
 
(3, 1) 1754 Prince, had I a son to quip
(3, 1) 1755 For such engagement, I could furnish him
(3, 1) 1756 No better.
 
(4, 2) 3423 Just to this ridge! I dare not go beyond.
(4, 2) 3424 If he have passed it, there's an end of all.
(4, 2) 3425 Why, what are ye?
 
(4, 2) 3427 Stand away:
(4, 2) 3428 If old, I'm not unhandy. Of what race
(4, 2) 3429 Are ye?
 
(4, 2) 3431 Of what possession are you?
 
(4, 2) 3433 What's that?
 
(4, 2) 3437 You know this country?
 
(4, 2) 3439 Have you
(4, 2) 3440 Or your companions seen a wandering knight?
 
(4, 2) 3444 It might be so.
 
(4, 2) 3446 There is no need.
 
(4, 2) 3448 Sir Lanval! Good, my lord
(4, 2) 3449 Will you not answer?
 
(4, 2) 3454 Sir, I have known you long
(4, 2) 3455 And merit not such usage.
 
(4, 2) 3459 My lord,
(4, 2) 3460 I heartened you some years ago, when dull
(4, 2) 3461 And discontented you abjured this land,
(4, 2) 3462 So hear me now.
 
(4, 2) 3466 Is this the man that faced all Mantua,
(4, 2) 3467 And held his honour up against the world?
 
(4, 2) 3470 My lord, I knew you well
(4, 2) 3471 When I was active. But the bitter clime,
(4, 2) 3472 The raw fierce action of this troubled state
(4, 2) 3473 Has wrinkled us together. And we yearn alike
(4, 2) 3474 For the fair spaces of the southern coasts.
 
(4, 2) 3477 My lord, in Italy —
 
(4, 2) 3481 Nay, my lord, I know
(4, 2) 3482 It is not just.
 
(4, 2) 3485 O my lord,
(4, 2) 3486 Come hence with me.
 
(4, 2) 3488 There's room
(4, 2) 3489 For honour yet abroad.
 
(4, 2) 3501 But my lord —
 
(4, 2) 3513 Your wrath is just, but bear a little while
(4, 2) 3514 With the sour treatment of the world. And then
(4, 2) 3515 We'll toss the past, its broken shafts and shields
(4, 2) 3516 Into a corner.
 
(4, 2) 3519 I do.
 
(4, 2) 3527 But, my lord, our foes —
(4, 2) 3528 The white-shield Angles lie beyond this vale,
(4, 2) 3529 Lovers of blood who spare no living thing.
 
(4, 2) 3537 Hark, my lord,
(4, 2) 3538 I hear men's movement in the valley, feet
(4, 2) 3539 That crush the bracken. Come away, my lord.
 
(4, 2) 3549 Nay, my lord, I stay,
(4, 2) 3550 At least stand here in shadow. They may pass.
 
(4, 2) 3726 Prince.
 
(4, 2) 3728 Not far, my lord.