r, , . - 1; ,- . -, - : ■ f 'i -r T r' 
 
 I 
 
 HUR 
 
 C5KS
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 'M^ttv^
 
 Copyrighted in the United States of America.
 
 KING ARTHUR, 
 
 A DRAMA 
 
 IN 
 
 A PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS, 
 
 
 BY 
 
 J'^'/COMYNS CARR. 
 
 11 51 1! n : 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., 
 
 AND NEW YORK, 
 1895. 
 
 [ The Right 11/ Trauslaiion and Reproduction is Reserved. 1
 
 C5K5 
 
 (.HISWILK I'KKSS: — CHAKLEb WH ITTl NCH AM ANU CO. 
 
 TiKik's r;<)nnT, chanchkv i.ank, i.ondok.
 
 TO 
 
 HENRY IRVING, 
 
 IN AFFECTIONATE ACKNOWLEDGMENT 
 
 OF A LONG AND STEADFAST 
 
 FRIENDSHIP, 
 
 AND AN EVER-INCREASING ADMIRATION OF HIS 
 
 GENIUS AS AN ACTOR.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 King Arthur Mr. Irving. 
 
 Sir Lancelot Mr. Forbes Robertson. 
 
 Sir Mordred Mr. Frank Cooper. 
 
 Sir Kay Mr. Tyars. 
 
 Sir Gawaine Mr. Clarence Hague. 
 
 Sir Bedevere Mr. Fuller Mellish. 
 
 Sir Agravaine Mr. Lacy. 
 
 Sir Percivat Mr. Buckley. 
 
 Sir Lavaine Mr. Julius Knight. 
 
 Sir Dagonet Mr. Harvey. 
 
 Merlin Mr. Sydney Valentine. 
 
 Messenger Mr. Belmore. 
 
 Gaoler Mr. Tabb. 
 
 Guinevere Miss Ellen Terry. 
 
 Elaine Miss Lena Ashwell. 
 
 Morgan Le Fay Miss Genevieve Ward. 
 
 Clarissant Miss Annie Hughes. 
 
 Spirit of the Lake MiSS MAUD MiLTON. 
 
 Knights^ Squires, Ladies of the Court, <Sr»r., ^c. 
 
 Produced at the Lyceum Theatre, i2th January, 1895. 
 
 /
 
 SYNOPSIS OF SCENERY. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 excalibur. 
 
 Scene.— The Magic Mere. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 The Holy Grail. 
 Scene.— The Great Hall at Camelot. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 The Queen's Maying. 
 Scene.— The Whitethorn Wood. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 The Black Barge. 
 
 Scene.— The Tower above the River at Camelol. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 The Passing of Arthur. 
 Scene i.— The Queen's Prison at Camelot. 
 Scene 2.— The *-'reat Hall at Camelot.
 
 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 EXCALIBUR. 
 
 Scene : — The inagic Mere. A wide lake with a rocky 
 path descending to tJie shore. As the curtain rises 
 there is a faint glimmer oji the horizori, which 
 gradually spreads over the water to an effect of 
 dawn. 
 
 CJiorus of Lake Spirits singing. 
 
 AWN and daytime turn to night, 
 Darkness wakes to morning light ; 
 All the uncounted hours go by- 
 Swift as clouds across the sky, 
 While we maidens of the mere, 
 Heedless of the changing year, 
 Guard the sword Excalibur. 
 
 \Pnring the concluding bars of tJie chorus, 
 Arthur, accompanied by Merlin, ap- 
 pears on the summit of the rocky path. 
 Arth. What shore is this, haunted by mystic sounds 
 That are not earthly .'' 
 
 Mer. 'Tis no earthly shore, 
 
 Nor, till this hour, have mortal eyes beheld 
 These fairy sands. 
 
 Arth. Then thou shalt go alone ; 
 
 B
 
 2 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 For here, perchance, thy magic arts have power 
 To lure my soul. 
 
 Mer. Nay, Arthur, have no fear. 
 
 A mightier power than mine had led thy feet 
 There where I found thee sleeping by the lake : 
 For whilst I watched a star fell in the sky, 
 And from the vacant space of Heaven there came 
 A voice that cried, " Awake ! the hour hath struck : 
 Now guide him. Merlin, to that caverned home 
 Where dwells the sacred sword Excalibur," 
 A rth. What is this sword .-' 
 
 Mer. Look well, and thou shalt see. 
 
 \As he speaks an arm rises from tlie Lake 
 
 holding aloft a jezvelled sword set in its 
 
 scabbard, zvhich gleams with supernatural 
 
 light. 
 
 Chorus of Lake Spirits. 
 
 Sword, no mortal shall withstand. 
 Fashioned by no mortal hand. 
 Long we wait the hour shall bring 
 England's sword to England's King ; 
 He shall wield Excalibur. 
 
 Mer. What think'st thou, Arthur ? 
 
 Arth. Nay, I have no word. 
 
 Whence comes this sword .-* 
 
 Mer. Long time, ere Time began, 
 
 'Twas forged beneath the sea ; its glittering blade. 
 Was tempered by the waves ; sea-maidens wrought 
 Its jewelled scabbard, and that warrior king 
 Whose arm is strong to wield it in the fight, 
 Shall rule a kingdom that shall rule the sea. 
 
 Arth. [Musifig.] For such a sword 'twere well to 
 give the world, 
 With such a sword 'twere well to rule the world. 
 Who is this king ? 
 
 Mer. Nay, list, and thou shalt hear.
 
 PROLOGUE. 3 
 
 Chorus of Lake Spirits. 
 
 Warrior knight, into thy hand, 
 Monarch of a mighty land 
 That, in unborn years, shall be 
 Monarch of the mightier sea ; 
 Great Pendragon's son, to thee 
 We shall yield Excalibur. 
 [ The sword again slowly sinks into the Lake. 
 
 ArtJi. Who is Pendragon's son? 
 
 Mer. Thou art the man ; 
 
 Pendragon's son, albeit thou know'st it not ; 
 For at thy birth I took thee from the Court. 
 Deep in the woods — a flower amid the flowers — 
 I watched beside thee, heard thine infant tongue 
 First lisp responsive to the woodland birds, 
 And by thy cradle, swung beneath the stars, 
 Taught thee the wisdom that should fit a throne. 
 Now art thou called ! Stand forth and take thy 
 
 sword, 
 Whose might alone can stay these wasting wars, 
 Whose might alone shall bring the realm of peace. 
 
 Arth. \Rising?\ Then was my dream no dream ; for 
 while I slept 
 I heard the noise of battle, and I saw 
 The flashing of innumerable spears 
 Lightening the dark of Heaven ; then I rose 
 And rode into the strife, and, where I led, 
 The mightiest fell before me, and men cried, 
 " It is the King ! " Yet did I heed them not. 
 For in mine ears there rang a clarion voice 
 Which said, " Nay, stay not till the end is won ! 
 Fight on, thine arm is mightier than theirs, 
 Fight on, an unborn empire claims thy sword, 
 Fight on, they strike for glory, thou for peace ! " 
 Long time the battle lasted, and the end 
 Seemed afar off; yet at the end it came. 
 And, ere my arm grew weary, I could hear
 
 4 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 A hush upon the thunder ; and the noise 
 
 And cry of war grew fainter, till it fell 
 
 To echoing silence. Then far off I saw, 
 
 Set in a redd'ning sky of blood and fire, 
 
 A face most fair that wore an angel smile ; 
 
 And down the unending avenue of spears 
 
 It drew towards me, seeming as it came 
 
 Like a white rose leaf borne upon the tide 
 
 Of crimson war. Whereat I knelt and said, 
 
 " I have fought for thee, thou hast the smile of 
 
 peace ; " 
 Yet answer made she none, and I awoke. 
 Ah, thou who know'st the secrets of the stars. 
 Tell me whose face I saw ! — 
 
 Mer. Nay, ask not that. 
 
 Arth. I will be answered ! all the world to 
 me 
 Dwells in that smile. 
 
 Mer. Then look upon thy fate. 
 
 \As he speaks a vision of GUINEVERE appears. 
 Arthur kneels. 
 Art//. Who art thou } Speak ! 
 
 Mer. Listen, and thou shalt hear. 
 
 [y4 / this a chorus of iinseen spirits is heard. 
 
 CJiorus. 
 
 Fairest form of all the earth ! 
 Joy and sorrow at one birth ; 
 Love and beauty, hope and fear. 
 Wait for thee in Guinevere. 
 
 Mer. Love and beauty, hope and fear, 
 Wait for thee in Guinevere. 
 Thou hearest, Arthur ? 
 
 ArtJi. Nay, I do but see 
 
 A form too fair for this rough world's embrace. 
 Fit for a kingdom that no sword can win ; 
 Yet would I win thee, take thee for my Queen. 
 Ah, say she shall be mine !
 
 PROLOGUE. 5 
 
 Mer. Fate answers thee, 
 
 Yet in that gift of beauty lurks thy doom. 
 
 Echouig Chorus. 
 
 Love and beauty, hope and fear, 
 Wait for thee in Guinevere. 
 
 Arth. These fairy tongues are false, for, see, she 
 bears 
 The emblems of the spring : all the new world 
 Leaps into flower about her ; and the may 
 Trails its white blossom round those stainless brows. 
 Mer. Yet thou shouldst know full many a poisonous 
 weed 
 Grows rank amid the blossoms of the may. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Love and Hate are born in May ; 
 Love, the bird upon the wing. 
 Hate, the worm devouring 
 All Love's flowers of yesterday, 
 Wait for thee in Guinevere. 
 
 [ The vision fades. 
 
 Mer. All Love's flowers of yesterday, 
 Wait for thee in Guinevere. 
 
 Arth. Thou wilt not stay ! then I will seek for thee, 
 And through the world, if thou art of the world, 
 I'll find thee, crown thee, Guinevere, my Queen ! 
 
 Echoing Chorus. 
 
 All Love's flowers of yesterday. 
 Wait for thee in Guinevere. 
 
 Arth. And yet those mystic voices chaunt of doom ! 
 Ah, thou whose vision spans futurity. 
 Hath not thy magic art all power to stay 
 The hand of Fate }
 
 6 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Mer. Our knowledge is not power. 
 
 Who knows the end of Life hath reached the end. 
 His wisdom is but Death ; while ye, who stand 
 Eager to thread the winding maze o' the world, 
 Led on by faith, do more than angels dare. 
 Such destiny is thine: for thy right arm 
 Out of this mound of earth shall raise a throne 
 Whose glory echoes through unacted time — 
 Wherefore I charge thee ask no more of fate. 
 The hand of doom is patient, and the sword 
 That flashes in the ghmmering light of dawn 
 Falls not till night-fall : thou shalt rule thy day. 
 
 Arth. I'll ask no more ; I do but crave my sword. 
 \The Spirit of the Lake appears, and at the 
 sajne time the szvord rises again from 
 the Lake. 
 
 Mer. Thy prayer is answered, she will give it thee. 
 
 The Spirit of the Lake. 
 
 Arthur, England's chosen lord, 
 Fear not Fate, but take thy sword ; 
 Thou the first whose mortal hand 
 E'er hath touched that mystic brand. 
 Sword and scabbard both are thine, 
 Sword and scabbard both divine : 
 Guard them well and use them well. 
 So that aftertime shall tell 
 Of thy kingdom in the sea, 
 Blazoned on whose shield shall be, 
 " Right and Might and Liberty." 
 
 [Arthur makes a move^nent toward the 
 sword. 
 Yet beware ! Time's beating wing, 
 Restless and untiring. 
 Speeds along Time's endless way. 
 Bravely thou shalt rule thy day, 
 And at last, when Day is done, 
 Those three Queens of Avalon,
 
 PROLOGUE. 7 
 
 Rulers of the night, who keep 
 In their charge the keys of sleep, 
 Far across this mystic mere 
 Silently thy barge shall steer, 
 Till thy wearied eyes have won 
 Endless sleep in Avalon. 
 
 Arth. He who would rule the day must greet the 
 dawn. 
 There is no hour to lose ; give me my sword. 
 For, echoing through the night, I too can hear 
 The voice of England, like a sobbing child 
 That longs for day ; and, gathering in night's sky, 
 I see that throng of England's unborn sons, 
 Whose glory is her glory : prisoned souls 
 With faces pressed against the bars of Time, 
 Waiting their destined hour. Give me my sword, 
 That I may loose Time's bonds and set them free. 
 
 [ The chorus is heard, and the picture is held 
 till the fall of the curtain. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Great Pendragon's greater son, 
 Arthur, ere thy race be run. 
 Thou shalt rule from sea to sea 
 England that is yet to be : 
 Great Pendragon's son, to thee 
 Here we yield Excalibur.
 
 ACT I. 
 
 The Holy Grail. 
 
 Scene: — The Great Hall at Camelot. A wide opening 
 breast high at the back, flanked by marble columns, 
 through xvhich is seen a view of blue hills against 
 a sunset sky. 
 
 Sir Kay, Sir Agravaine, atid Sir Bedevere, to 
 whom enters SiR LANCELOT. 
 
 Kay. 
 IR LANCELOT, this falls well : of late 
 our King 
 Hath ofttimes asked for thee, and thou 
 shalt learn 
 
 The noise of thy great deeds hath far outstripped 
 Thy good steed's swiftest course, waiting thee here 
 To swell love's welcome home. What news from 
 Wales .? 
 Lan. In Wales men speak in whispers ; yet 'tis 
 known 
 That Ryons, lately joined in secret league 
 With Mark of Cornwall, doth but wait the hour 
 To strike at Arthur's throne. 
 
 Agra. This news comes pat ; 
 
 Not three days past, deep in the belt of wood 
 That circles round Caerleon's clustering towers. 
 Sir Gawaine's huntsmen chanced upon two spies, 
 Who now lie fast in chains. 
 
 Kay. And at this hour 
 
 The King holds council, and shall straight declare 
 If they may live or die.
 
 ACT I. 9 
 
 Agra. Should Gawaine speak 
 
 And Arthur listen they were dead ere night. 
 Gaw. That is most sure. 
 
 Lan. Which way doth Mordred tend .'' 
 
 Agra. Truth, that were hard to tell ! his subtle 
 tongue 
 
 Still weaves a web to catch the thought of others, 
 
 And hide his own. 
 
 Lan. And what then saith the King .^ 
 
 Kay, He waits upon the word of Guinevere. 
 Gaw. I dare be sworn this thing hath troubled him, 
 Kay. What should he fear though Mark and Ryons, 
 joined 
 
 With all the hosts of Cornwall and of Wales, 
 
 Knocked at our gates. 
 
 Lan. Nay, sirs, he knows not fear, 
 
 Whose warrior heart was bred where spears have 
 
 grown 
 
 Thick as the river reeds. Yet in that heart 
 Dwells a fond nursling hope this news will slay ; 
 For since the coming of Queen Guinevere 
 The sword Excalibur hath hung at rest 
 Within its jewelled scabbard, and he dreamed 
 The lust of blood was past. 
 
 Kay. Would that were all ! 
 
 King Arthur grieves, but 'tis with graver cause. 
 
 Lan. What cause ? 
 
 Kay. What cause ! 
 
 Gaw. In truth we do forget. 
 
 Sir Lancelot knows not that at vesper time 
 A hundred knights of Arthur's fellowship 
 Take a long leave of Camelot and the King. 
 
 Lan. Bound on what quest .-* 
 
 Kay. No earthly quest is theirs 
 
 Who've ta'en a vow to seek the Holy Grail. 
 
 Lafi. To seek the Grail ! Now, sirs, you mock 
 at me ! 
 For who, of mortal born, shall hope to find, 
 Searching through all the world, that holy cup
 
 10 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Charged with Christ's blood ? That cup no eye hath 
 
 seen 
 Since long ago to this White Isle 'twas borne 
 By Joseph, who had filled it at the Cross. 
 What Heaven hath hid no man may dare to seek, 
 Save by a sign from Heaven. 
 
 Kay. Heaven's sign hath come 
 
 In miracle and wonder : three nights past — 
 When all our company were sat at meat — 
 Above the murmur of the feast there leapt 
 The crack and cry of thunder, and the roof 
 W^as cloven as with a sword : then down the hall, 
 Aslant upon a bar of light that gleamed 
 As though the sun were turned to molten gold, 
 Passed a white angel, bearing in her hands 
 The sacred vision of the cup of Christ. 
 
 Laji. What like was it to see ? 
 
 ^During the following speech the hall darkens. 
 
 Kay. That none may tell, 
 
 For, dimly veiled in a cloth of white, 
 It went as it had come, unseen of all. 
 Yet while it passed it left, though none knew how, 
 The witness of its presence in men's eyes ; 
 And, dumbly gazing, each in other found 
 The stamp of some new glory ; then uprose 
 Our youngest knight. Sir Percival, and cried : 
 " Now thanks for what hath been and what shall be ! 
 For here I vow to rest not till these eyes 
 Have openly beheld the cup itself! " 
 And, as one note at dawn will wake the woods, 
 V^oice after voice re-echoed Percival's, 
 Till, one by one, a hundred of our knights 
 Had joined themselves unto this holy quest. 
 
 Lan. If this be so 
 
 Gaw. Why, sir, 'twas in this hall ! 
 
 Kay. And close upon this hour. 
 
 \A peal of thunder is heard, followed by a 
 lightning flash. 
 
 Lan. What cry was that .?
 
 ACT I. II 
 
 Kay. Nay, see, 'tis here again. 
 
 \As he speaks, a slanting ray of light falls 
 through the hall, enfolding the form of 
 a maiden bearijig the cup, from the 
 centre of wJiicJi a red light strikes like 
 a star through the transparent veil that 
 covers it. SiR Lancelot k?ieels as the 
 vision passes ajid disappears. 
 Lan. Ah, go not yet ! 
 
 'Tis gone! and did mine eyes not vouch 'twas here, 
 I'd say it was a dream ; for never yet 
 Hath mortal vision gazed on aught so fair ! 
 Didst thou not note how all the air was filled 
 With sweetest odours ? 
 
 Gaw. So it was before. 
 
 Kay. Said we not truth ? 
 
 Lan. \Rising^^ Ay, and by this I know 
 
 That age of marvels, long ago foretold 
 By Merlin, when he built our Table Round, 
 Hath come at last ; and we who live to-day 
 Shall witness wonders great and terrible 
 Shaking the earth, until that happier hour 
 When he whom God hath chosen of us all 
 With mortal eyes shall pierce Heaven's mystery. 
 And see the Grail itself 
 
 Gaw. 'Twas said last night, 
 
 That he alone shall win this saving grace 
 Whose heart stands clear of sin. 
 
 Lan. Ay, sir, 'tis so. 
 
 And He alone who wills it so can pierce 
 The secrets of our hearts ! Not all may win, 
 Yet straining at the goal there's none can lose 
 The grace that comes of strife. 
 
 [MORDRED has entered Jinseen during the 
 last speech, carrying a scroll in his hand. 
 Mord. How now, Sir Knights, 
 
 Ye do forget the hour ! Have ye not heard 
 That they whose names are duly here enrolled, 
 Bound by their vows to seek the Holy Grail,
 
 12 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Within a breathing space shall take their leave 
 Of Arthur and his Court ? 
 
 Lan. I pray you, sir, 
 
 Of your good grace add my name to the roll. 
 
 Mord. Hast thou considered well ? 
 
 Lan. My lord, I have, 
 
 And shall be ready when the list is called. 
 
 {Exit Lancelot. 
 
 Mord. {Half to himself^ So Lancelot goes ! 
 
 Kay. I dare be sworn he will not. 
 
 Nay, though his oath were loudest of them all, 
 Yet Arthur's love will hold him. 
 
 Mord. {Turning fiercely uponY^KN ?^ Who dares speak 
 So gross a treason 'gainst our lord the King .'' 
 In truth, Sir Kay, I thought thee worthier 
 Of Arthur's love. 
 
 Kay. Nay, sir, I did but think 
 
 That Lancelot, who is worthier than us all, 
 Would go or stay as that same love commands. 
 
 Mord. And thou ! and thou ! yet think ye that the 
 King, 
 Who loves him best and knows him worthiest, 
 Would bid him break his vow .-' Now, hark'e, sirs : 
 Ye know not him ye worship, and your praise 
 Is but a vapour that doth hide the sun, 
 But ye shall know him ! Nay, sirs, tarry not, 
 But see that all is ready for the King. 
 
 Kay. Be sure, my lord, we shall not fail the King. 
 
 {Exeimt Kay and other Knights. 
 
 Mord. {Alojie.] Yea, Arthur's love would hold him, 
 but it shall not. 
 Lancelot shall go, and, in that vacant seat 
 Where now his heart sits guardian to the King, 
 Envenomed hate shall keep a closer watch. 
 Lancelot shall go.
 
 ACT I. 13 
 
 Enter MORGAN. 
 
 Ah ! mother, thou art here. 
 What saith the Queen ? 
 
 Morz. She doth attend the council. 
 
 Mord. And her voice .-' 
 
 Morg. Is tuned to plead for mercy. 
 
 Mord. 'Tis well, for Arthur heeds no voice save 
 hers. 
 These dogs whose tongues I feared will now go free. 
 
 Morg. Then tell me, boy, what tidings did they 
 bear .'' 
 
 Mord. The gathered hosts of Cornwall and of Wales 
 Wait but my sign. 
 
 Morg. They shall not wait for long. 
 
 The year grows green, and May-day comes again — 
 Day of thy birth, and day of Arthur's doom, 
 
 Mord. Of Arthur's doom } 
 
 Morg. Ay, for 'twas so foretold. 
 
 Ere yet thine eyes had opened on the world, 
 That he whose hand should strike at Arthur's 
 
 heart 
 On May-day must be born. And thou art he. 
 For in thy veins an avenging poison flows, 
 Distilled in that dark hour when Merlin's lips 
 Hailed Arthur as Pendragon's rightful heir. 
 And left me bastard. 
 
 Mord. Ay, yet one thing lacks : 
 
 Think you, will Lancelot join this holy quest } 
 
 Morg. What should you fear, though Lancelot go 
 or stay .-' 
 
 Mord. I fear, yet know not what — his loyal love 
 Twines around Arthur like a coil of steel 
 That turns the keenest edge. Yea, well I know 
 That while Sir Lancelot stays, the King is safe. 
 
 Mo7g. Thou fool ! the King were safer if he 
 went. 
 
 Mord. What dost thou say .^
 
 14 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Morg. I say what thou shouldst know : 
 
 The King doth love Sir Lancelot ? 
 
 Mord. Ay, too well ! 
 
 Morg. Too well, in truth, for next the King stands 
 one 
 Who loves him more than well. 
 
 Mord. Not Guinevere ? 
 
 Morg. Ay, she ! 
 
 Mord. This is thy malice. 
 
 Morg. Think'st thou so .'' 
 
 Trust me, 'tis true — a woman hath no wiles 
 To hide her secret from a woman's gaze 
 Whose eyes are never blindfold. Dost forget 
 When the news came of Lancelot's heavy wound 
 How she did weep and wail .'' 
 
 Mord. So did the King. 
 
 Morg. Ay, truth, so did the King ; yet that 's not 
 all: 
 For later, when the happier tidings came 
 That, tended by Elaine, his wound was whole, 
 Hadst thou but seen her then ! The King made 
 
 glad, 
 But Guinevere's white lips could shape no smile. 
 Her jealous heart was torn. 
 
 Mord. If this be so. 
 
 And Lancelot loves her too, then all are trapped ! 
 
 Morg. Nay, take it not from me, look for thyself 
 
 [Herald's tnnnpet heard without. 
 But see she comes, take heed and guard thy tongue. 
 
 Enter GuiNEVERE. 
 
 Mord. Madam, what saith the King ? 
 
 Gtiin. Hast thou not heard } 
 
 Thy mother's prayer for mercy hath prevailed ; 
 The spies are pardoned. 
 
 Mord. Why then, 'tis to thee 
 
 They owe their right to live. 
 
 Guin. Nay, to the King ! 
 
 Who knowing naught of fear, fears naught to spare
 
 ACT I. ' 15 
 
 Where weaker hearts would slay. To-day at eve 
 Our knights ride forth upon a Holy Quest ; 
 At such a season then it was not fit 
 That on their spotless banners there should rest 
 The smirch of hireling blood. 
 
 Morg. Madam, the King ! 
 
 Enter ARTHUR, with Knights attending. 
 
 AvtJi. Our faithful knights do know th' appointed 
 hour. 
 
 Mord. My lord, they wait your call. 
 
 Arth. Give me the roll. 
 
 [MORDRED hands scroll to the King. 
 Is all complete .-' 
 
 Mord. Nay, truth, I had forgot : 
 
 One name is lacking there. 
 
 Arth. Whose name is that .'' 
 
 Stand there not here enough of goodly knights 
 That I must lose from our great fellowship, 
 But ye would cry for more .-* 
 
 Mord. Your pardon. Sire ; 
 
 I did but learn it now, within the hour : 
 Sir Lancelot hath returned. 
 
 ArtJi. Well, sir, what then? 
 
 Guin. [Starting.] Sir Lancelot home ! 
 
 Morg. {Approaching her.] Ay, madam, he is here. 
 
 Arth. Lancelot is welcome home. 
 
 Mord. Yet 'tis to fear 
 
 He comes but to depart. 
 
 Arth. What mean you, sir .-* 
 
 Mord. He, too, my lord, v/ould join this Holy 
 Quest. 
 
 Arth. Sir Lancelot.^ Nay, you jest! this shall not be. 
 Go straight and send him here. 
 
 Mord. My lord, I will. [Exit MORDRED. 
 
 Gtcin. Morgan, thou hast our leave. 
 [Exeunt MORGAN, Ladies of the Court, and Knights. 
 
 Nay, good my lord,
 
 i6 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 This troubles thee. 
 
 Arth. It would an it were true ; 
 
 For, as each added name summed up the list, 
 Methought, though all should go, yet one remains ; 
 Flower of all knighthood, Lancelot, thou at least 
 Shalt stand beside thy King ! 
 
 Guin. Yet should he go 
 
 Thou still hast that which serves thee more than all. 
 Thy sword Excalibur, whose mystic blade 
 Hath carved this Island Empire from the sea, — 
 Thou hast thy goodly sword. 
 
 Arth. Ay, and my Queen, 
 
 Whose dear commands are set as Heaven's high 
 
 voice, 
 Lifting me nearer Heaven. 
 
 Guin. Trust thy sword ; 
 
 'Twill serve thee better far. 
 
 ArtJi. Long time gone by, 
 
 When this same sword by magic hands was given. 
 Old Merlin said, Take heed and guard it well ; 
 Yet guard the scabbard too, for that is more 
 E'en than the blade it sheathes. I knew not then 
 If he spoke false or true : I know it now. 
 For at thy coming, Guinevere, my Queen, 
 The havoc turned to harvest at thy feet ; 
 From out the bellowing throat of war there came 
 A sweeter, softer music, and the earth, 
 New christened by thy smile, broke forth in flower. 
 Thou art our scabbard, and in thy pure soul, 
 Where only peace may dwell, our sword lies sheathed I 
 Yet that rich dower thy father gave with thee. 
 That image of the world, our Table Round, 
 A kingdom's heart set in a rim of steel 
 Forged of the spears of all the goodliest knights 
 Of all the earth ; that too must count for much, 
 And if he now should fail that out of all 
 Hath shown himself the mightiest, then I think 
 Our day draws to its end.
 
 ACT I. 17 
 
 Enter Lancelot. 
 
 Most welcome home ! 
 It was but now I learned from Mordred's lips 
 Thou too wouldst join this quest. 
 
 Lafi. 'Tis so, my lord, 
 
 Artk. If that same word by other lips were 
 spoken 
 I'd say 'twas false. Dost thou so lightly count 
 Our long-tried love, that, without word or sign, 
 Thou'dst quit our side ? Nay, but I wrong thee 
 
 there, 
 For we are one, and haply thou hast told 
 Thy purpose to the Queen. 
 
 Guin. Not so, indeed. 
 
 I heard it not till now. 
 
 Lan. Nay, hear me, Arthur. 
 
 I have no life, no soul that is not thine, 
 No heart but waits some fitting hour to bleed 
 In thy great cause ; yet, couldst thou see that heart 
 And know its present sickness, thou wouldst say : 
 Lancelot, ride forth, thou hast our willing leave. 
 
 Ai'th. Thinkest thou so } We'll speak of this again. 
 
 Lan. Thy voice alone shall bid me go or stay. 
 
 [Exit Lancelot. 
 
 Arth. And thou shalt stay, for now I do divine 
 This sickness at thy heart. {Turning to GUINEVERE.] 
 Canst thou not guess ^ 
 
 Guin. Indeed I cannot. 
 
 Arth. 'Tis some cause of love 
 
 That bids him go. 
 
 Guin. [Starting.] Of love ? 
 
 A rth. Ay, dear, of love ! 
 
 Didst think that our two hearts had drained love's 
 
 springs .'' 
 Thou hast not heard, but, ere thy coming hither, 
 'Twas known that Lancelot wooed the fair Elaine. 
 
 c
 
 1 8 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Giiin. 'Twas she that nursed him when his wound 
 was sore ? 
 
 Arth. Ay, true, 'twas she ; but even then their 
 loves 
 Had drifted wide asunder, and of late 
 He has not breathed her name. 
 
 Guin. Why then 'tis sure 
 
 He loves her not. 
 
 Arth. In love there's naught that's sure. 
 
 Yet is he framed in such a constant mould 
 That truly I believe he loves her still. 
 Some little knot hath ravelled up the skein 
 That links their hearts. There needs a woman's Vv^it 
 To set the tangle straight. 
 
 Gimi. A woman's wit ? 
 
 Arth. Ay, dear, and thine. 
 
 Guin. Indeed, I think not so. 
 
 Arth. Indeed 'tis so : bid Lancelot come to thee ; 
 Thy tongue will find a charm that may unlock 
 The guarded secret of his chafing heart. 
 
 [Guinevere does not move. 
 Nay, thou wilt do 't } if our all happy love 
 Hath known no jar, then must we search the more 
 To find the missing note for those whose souls 
 Are not so finely tuned. 
 
 Gnin. Then thou art sure 
 
 Thou art all happy .■* 
 
 A rth. Nay, how canst thou ask .'' 
 
 Guin. A little field-flower, lighted by a star. 
 Stands but a tiny speck beneath that lamp 
 Which shines o'er half the world ; yet once it dreamed 
 That this great beacon light was all its own. 
 'Tis long since thou hast spoken of thy love, 
 Dost know how long } 
 
 Arth. That is the fate of kings. 
 
 Whose lives are as a picture for the world, 
 Not for their own content. When we were wed, 
 I dreamed of many an hour when we would sit. 
 Thy hand in mine, recalling that sweet day
 
 ACT I. 19 
 
 When, like a flash of sunlight through the trees, 
 
 I saw thy face at Cameliard ; but now 
 
 The busy hours slip by, each new day brings 
 
 Its burden of new duty, and our loves 
 
 Are too long silent. Yet full well thou know'st — 
 
 \_ApproacJung her. 
 Giiin. {Interrupting hiin, and making away.'\ Yes, 
 yes, I know ; heed not my idle words. 
 It was a foolish thought that slipped my tongue. 
 I'll do thy bidding straight. 
 
 Ejiter Morgan. 
 
 Morg. Your pardon, madam, but the fair Elaine, 
 Is newly come from Astolat, and craves 
 An audience with the Queen. 
 
 ArtJi. Now this falls well. 
 
 So you shall plead for both. 
 
 Gnin. [To Morgan.] I'll see her here. 
 
 Go tell Sir Lancelot I would speak with him. 
 
 [Exit Morgan. 
 
 Artli. And later, when Sir Lancelot's name is 
 called, 
 'Tis thou shalt bid him stay. Till then, farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Arthur. 
 
 Guin. Farewell ! [Guinevere is left alone. 
 
 Am I so weak that every random word 
 Can shake my heart } When Arthur said but now, 
 " It is some cause of love bids Lancelot go," 
 I trembled like a thief that's trapped at night. 
 For, in his god-like gaze, I thought I saw 
 The searching eyes of God ; piercing my soul, 
 Where lurks the shameful secret of my love 
 That none must know. Ah me, if Lancelot knew ! 
 How he would spurn me ! But he shall not know. 
 Wherefore 'twere better he should go away ; 
 For while he was away, within my heart
 
 20 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 His image dwelt securely, like a star 
 Hung high above me in a stainless sky, — 
 A lamp illumined with a fireless flame 
 That wrought no ill, — but now, when he is by, 
 The light grows blinding, and its fiercer rays 
 Consume my very soul. 
 
 She stands wrapt in tliougJit as enter Elaine. 
 
 Elaine. Thy pardon, madam. Morgan bade me 
 come. 
 
 \^She kneels as GuiNEVERE turtis to her. 
 Giiin. [Aside.'] Indeed, but she is fair! [Alo2id.'\ 
 Nay, do not kneel. [ELAINE rises. 
 
 What wouldst thou with me } 
 
 Elaine. 'Twas but yester eve. 
 
 Within thy garden by the castle wall, 
 For the first time I saw thee with thy maids, 
 Where, 'midst them all, thy prouder beauty seemed 
 To wear the gentlest smile ; 'twas then I thought : 
 " Could I but see the Queen, I'd tell my heart 
 And win her favour." Now methinks I erred. 
 Gtdn. Has, then, my face so changed .'' 
 Elaine. Sweet lady, no. 
 
 Yet in thy presence my poor lips are dumb. 
 
 Gnin. Then I must speak for thee : sit near me here. 
 
 [Elaine sits at her feet. 
 So, thou art she our great Sir Lancelot loves .-* 
 I do not wonder. 
 
 Elaine. I did think so once. 
 
 Guiti. Be sure he loves thee still. 
 
 Elaine. Ah, would 'twere so ! 
 
 Guin. Was then his love so sweet .? tell me how 
 
 sweet. 
 Elaine. I scarce knew then ; for all the uncounted 
 joys 
 Of that brief time seemed but an earnest paid 
 From Love's unbounded store. Now, when all's lost,
 
 ACT I. 21 
 
 Remembrance feeds my grief and, drowned in tears, 
 Brings back each little token of his love 
 That passed unheeded then. 
 
 Giiiti. There's joy in that — 
 
 He loved thee once ; methinks I know some hearts 
 Would take thy sorrow's burden but to win 
 What thou dost still possess : but tell me more. 
 Such love, if love it were, could not so end 
 Without a cause — perchance the fault was thine. 
 
 Elaine. I think so too, and yet I know not how. 
 The end came all so swiftly : on that day 
 When he rode forth I do remember well 
 I scarce was sad, our parting was so sweet. 
 But, when he came again, it was as though 
 The night had fallen at noontide ; all was changed. 
 
 Giiin. What time was that .-' 
 
 Elaine. Ah, madam, thou canst date 
 
 My sorrow with thy joy. 
 
 Gni)i. [^Rising suddenly.'] What dost thou say .'' 
 
 Elaine. Nay, be not angered : so it chanced to fall, 
 In that same hour when thou, new crowned a Queen, 
 Didst come from Cameliard as Arthur's bride — 
 My love was lost. 'Twas Lancelot brought thee here. 
 
 Gtiifi. Ay, was it so .'' In truth I had forgot. 
 Yes, sure, 'twas he. And now thou think'st that I 
 Can win thy love again ! How shall that be .'' 
 
 Elaine. Hold Lancelot to thy side, I ask but that ! 
 Let him not go to-day upon this quest. 
 Whence none, perchance, shall live to win his way 
 Back to King Arthur's court. Ah, bind him here, 
 That so my love, by some sweet chance, may find 
 The path it missed before, and creep again 
 Back to that heart that once did seem its home ! 
 Thou dost not answer .'' 
 
 Guin. Hush, what sound is that }
 
 22 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 CJiaiint of the KnigJits without. 
 
 Look not to thy sword, 
 
 Fame is but a breath, 
 That, for all reward, 
 
 Brings thee only death. 
 Rise, and go forth with us who seek the Grail, 
 Winning for reward 
 Fame that shall not fail. 
 
 Elaine. [ Who has gone to the back.'] It is the chaunt 
 of those who seek the Grail. 
 See, they make ready. Lancelot is not there ! 
 
 G7nn. Go, leave me now, for I must speak with him, 
 And think what I may do to serve thee best. 
 
 Elaine. \Kissing Jier hand.] Ah, would I owned thy 
 crown that may command. 
 Or thou my love, that so he needs must yield ! 
 
 [Exit Elaine. 
 Gui7t. And would I ne'er had seen thee, for thy words 
 Have set my heart on fire ! Can it be so .-' 
 That then when first we met his love did change .-* 
 It is not so, and his own lips shall speak 
 And say 'tis false, or else I shall go mad. 
 
 Eyiier LANCELOT. 
 
 Ah, thou art here. Why is thy mind so bent 
 
 To leave the court ^ The King would know the cause. 
 
 Think'st thou, because thy favour stands so high 
 
 In fame of earthly deeds, that thou shalt win 
 
 This heavenly crown 1 
 
 Lan. Indeed, I think not so. 
 
 His eyes alone shall see that holy cup. 
 Whose soul stands clear of sin. 
 
 Gjiin. What boots it then 
 
 To adventure all upon a hopeless quest .'*
 
 ACT I. 23 
 
 ^:) 
 
 Lan. Ay, hopeless, for I may not touch the goal. 
 Yet once, when I lay stricken nigh to death, 
 By this same vessel of the Sangrael 
 My hurt was cured ; now, when my heart is pierced, 
 Though by no mortal stroke of sword or spear, 
 Perchance again that same sweet miracle 
 May heal my deeper wound. 
 
 Gtiin. I know thy wound. 
 
 Lmi. If that were so I should be shamed indeed ! 
 
 Guin. Indeed, 'tis so. Elaine was here but now. 
 I did not dream that all the world could show 
 So fair a maid. No marvel that thy heart 
 Is sick with love. 
 
 Lan. Madam, I love her not ! 
 
 Giiin. Nay, that is false : think it no shame to own 
 What, in some angry fit, thy tongue denied. 
 
 Lan. My shame lies deeper, seeing I once vowed 
 A love that now lies dead. 
 
 Giiin. Elaine's soft eyes 
 
 Will find Love's tomb, and charm it back to life. 
 Go to her now, and plead thy suit again ; 
 I'll warrant you will find her not too hard, 
 Your wooing is half done. 
 
 Lan. Urge me no more, 
 
 For here, by Heaven, I swear I love her not. 
 
 Guin. Then wherefore wouldst thou enter on this 
 quest ? 
 
 Lan. Nay, madam, in thy pity, spare me that ! 
 
 Guin. I will be answered. Ami not thy Queen .? 
 
 Lan. Thou art indeed, and therefore hast thy will ! 
 I had thought to pass away and leave behind 
 The dear remembrance of thy loyal love 
 I once deserved. But now that too has gone. 
 For thou wouldst wring the secret from my lips 
 That brands me traitor. 
 
 Gtiin. Traitor ! 
 
 Lan. Ay ! 'Tis true, 
 
 And thou hast known it, else thy gracious heart 
 Were not so pitiless : 'twas for this I've seen
 
 24 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Those veiled eyes cloak the hate they scorned to tell, 
 When, by some evil chance, their gaze met mine ; 
 For this thy gentle smile took sudden flight 
 When I passed by. 
 
 Gum. No ! no ! no more, no more ! 
 
 La7i. Nay, madam, drink thy vengeance to the 
 fill. 
 I leave the court because I love its Queen ! 
 
 \Flings himself at her feet. 
 
 Giiin. I did not hear thee ; speak that word again. 
 
 Lan. Ay, once again, I love thee ; all my shame 
 Lies naked at thy feet ; I do but crave 
 That here my life may end. 
 
 Gum. Nay, do not rise. 
 
 There's something I would say, yet know not how; 
 For if thy life must end, then so must mine. 
 You cannot guess my shame. 
 
 Lan. Thou hast no shame, 
 
 Save that which my base love hath laid on thee ! 
 
 Guin. Indeed, I have. Oft when we kneel and 
 pray 
 Before God's image bleeding on the Cross, 
 We cheat our souls, for our vain hearts still seek 
 The manhood, not the God : 'twas so with me. 
 That hour when Arthur came, it seemed as though 
 Christ's hand had beckoned, and I knelt to him, 
 And, in the mist of worship, thought I saw 
 The winged heart of love. But when you came. 
 His great ambassador from Camelot, 
 I saw Love's heart indeed, and knew I loved — 
 But not the King. 
 
 Lan. What say'st thou t Not the King } 
 
 Wouldst make me mad ? 
 
 Guin. Ah me, that home-coming 
 
 When we two rode in silence side by side. 
 And all my heart was hungry for a word ! 
 The blossoms of the springtime turned to flame — 
 And yet you spoke not ; now it is too late. 
 
 S^Shc moves away.
 
 ACT I. 25 
 
 Lan. {Rising.'] No, not too late, unless those lips 
 are false. 
 Ah ! hear me now — thou wouldst have heard me 
 
 then. 
 My lonely love I could have borne alone, 
 Counting this mortal life too short a term 
 Of exile for my sin ; but now that's past. 
 And, through the darkness, like a sudden star, 
 Thy heart stands clear, lighting our sweeter way. 
 Nay, do not turn thy face, thou knowest 'tis so. 
 Love speaks at last — and Love will be obeyed. 
 
 \^He JHoves toivards her, and she tiirns as if to 
 yield to his embrace when the cJiant of 
 the Knights breaks forth again, and the 
 movement is arrested. 
 
 Look not to thy love. 
 
 Love that lives an hour ; 
 Heaven's voice above 
 
 Calls thee from her bower. 
 Rise, and go forth, with us who seek the Grail, 
 
 Winning from above 
 
 Love that shall not fail. 
 
 Gnin. Yea, truth, 'tis love that speaks ! But not 
 our love, 
 Tlie love of Heaven, of honour, and of — him. 
 
 Rise and go forth, with us who seek the Grail, 
 Winning from above 
 Love that shall not fail. 
 
 It is their voice that calls, and thou wilt go. 
 I thought to hold thee here — I may not now. 
 
 Lan. My shame is dumb ; yet, in thy purer heart, 
 I may find grace to save what still remains 
 Of my wrecked soul : my trust stands all in thee. 
 
 Guin. Nay, trust thyself. 
 
 Lan. Thy word must be my law. 
 
 Guin. Wait not for that : a woman is too weak 
 To STuard what's best in what she loves the best.
 
 26 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 We shall not speak again. \Exit GUINEVERE. 
 
 Lan. Ay, once again, 
 
 When from thy lips shall come the dread command 
 That sends me hence ; and like a flaming sword 
 Love bars the gate of this new paradise 
 Which love hath won ; yet through the desert night 
 Of life's long pilgrimage, one star shall stay. 
 And when death comes at last, to end our quest, 
 My fainting heart shall quicken at the thought, 
 'Twas thou didst bid me go. 
 
 Enter a SQUIRE. 
 
 Ah, thou art here. 
 Put on my sword. 
 
 \TIie trumpet sojtnds as ARTHUR enters, pre- 
 ceded by a procession of Priests and 
 Choristers chaunting the songoftJie Grail, 
 zvhile the hall Jills zvith a throng of 
 Knights. Arthur and Guinevere 
 take their places on the throne, on the steps 
 of which stands Elaine next the Queen. 
 
 TJic Cha2int of the Grail. 
 
 Look not to thy sword, 
 
 Fame is but a breath, 
 That, for all reward. 
 
 Brings thee only death. 
 Rise, and go forth with us who seek the Grail, 
 Winning for reward 
 Fame that shall not fail. 
 
 \At the close of the cJiannt Percival comes 
 
 forward from the group of the Knights 
 
 of the Grail and kneels before Arthur. 
 
 Per. Here, at thy feet, for all whose vows are sworn, 
 
 I kneel and crave thy favour ere we go. 
 
 What strange new ways our wandering feet will press,
 
 ACT I. 27 
 
 What dread adventures wait us, none can tell. 
 Yet this we know, our fealty to thee 
 Shall stand unbroken, and through all the world 
 We bear the spotless blazon of thy fame ! 
 
 Arth. Rise, Percival, and ye who kneel with him, 
 Take your new way ; ye have our leave to go ; 
 Which yet, if that might be, we could withhold. 
 The magic circle of our Table Round 
 Is broken here : wherefore, in truth, my heart 
 Is sore within me, and my lips hold back 
 The message of Farewell. Yet must it be ; 
 For well I know your vows are sworn to Him 
 Whose voice outbids the mandate of a king. 
 Therefore ride forth — we wait your glad return ! 
 
 [Percival passes out, followed by the other 
 Knights of the Grail, who kneel as they 
 pass the throne. At the last comes 
 Lancelot. Arthur stops him. 
 Artli. Nay, Lancelot, what is this .? 
 Lan. My lord, I too 
 
 Would take those vows that bind me to this quest. 
 Artli. [To Guinevere.] Didst thou not speak with 
 
 him .'' 
 Gnin. I did, my lord. 
 
 Aj'th. Then had thy voice no power ? 
 G?ein. In truth, I think 
 
 Some mightier voice than mine doth bid him go. 
 
 A.rtJi. Then I must speak : this quest is not for thee. 
 For thy rich manhood hath a holier task — 
 Here, by thy King, to fight for this poor world 
 Till that last call which sheathes our swords in sleep. 
 Lan. My lord, thou knowest me not. I am not fit 
 To stand by thee. 
 
 ArtJi. Nay, Lancelot, it is thou 
 
 That dost not know thyself for what thou art ! 
 This crippled realm, how shall it find the goal. 
 If thou, the strongest, who hast been our stafif, 
 If thou, the mightiest, who hast been our shield. 
 And thou, the gentlest, that art now our guide.
 
 28 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Seek thine own way towards Heaven; and so dost 
 
 steal 
 The sun's bright rays wherewith to seek the sun, 
 Leaving this lonely world to grope its way 
 In darkness to the end ? Thou shalt not go ! 
 
 Lan. My lord, did I but know myself as strong 
 As is the weakest of these knights whose vows 
 Were sworn but now, it would not need thy voice 
 To bid me stay. 
 
 Artk. Still thy resolve stands firm ? 
 
 Then thou shalt hear a sager voice than ours. 
 Old Merlin, by whose mystic craft we read 
 The unturned page of Time, stand forth and speak ! 
 
 [Merlin steps forward. 
 Mer. All shall seek the Holy Grail, 
 All and all save one shall fail. 
 ArtJi. Nay, leave thy riddles ; shall he go or stay .^ 
 Mer, Fate doth not answer yea or nay. 
 Love shall bid him go or stay ! 
 Love the best, or love the worst, 
 Holiest love, or love accurst. 
 ArtJi. Say on. What is this love that bids him go t 
 Mer. I can but read the words that Fate hath writ. 
 Arth. Then we have done with Fate. Go, get thee 
 hence. 
 And never more shall that dark face of thine 
 Pass, like a withered shadow, through these halls ! 
 Mer. I go hence, yet Fate shall stay, 
 Till the dawn of that dread day ; 
 He Pendragon's son shall slay 
 That is born with the May ! 
 \As Merlin goes out the hall grows darker ^ 
 and the sunset at the back gleams more 
 brightly. 
 Guin. My lord, I pray you call him back again ! 
 Arth. Nay, heed him not, my Queen — nor, Lancelot, 
 thou ! 
 For if indeed Love speaks with double voice, 
 One base, one noble, then be sure my lips
 
 ACT I. 29 
 
 Do bear the nobler message ; for the world 
 
 Tells of no higher, purer love than that 
 
 Of brother unto brother : such in truth 
 
 Is my great love for thee, that bids thee stay ! 
 
 Lan. I know not how to answer for myself ! 
 Yet, once before, wlicn we were at debate 
 The verdict of our Queen did end all strife. 
 I crave it now, her word shall be my law ! 
 
 Arth. Then thou shalt stay : for she and I are one, 
 With but one voice, one tongue, one heart, one soul ! 
 Now, Guinevere, declare thy will. 
 
 Giiin. My lord, 
 
 A woman is too weak to rule men's hearts. 
 
 Artk. Not so, my Queen. Hath not thy purer heart. 
 Sole ruler over him who rules this realm, 
 Won, from rude wars, that sweeter crown of peace 
 That smiles upon our land from sea to sea .-* 
 And wouldst thou fail me now ? when on thy word 
 The welfare of a kingdom waits in doubt — 
 W'ouldst thou be dumb .'' 
 
 Guiii. Indeed, indeed I would. 
 
 Arth. Nay, I command thee — speak as I would 
 speak ! 
 
 Elaine. Ay, madam, speak ! My life lies in thy word. 
 
 Guin. [After a pause, and %vitlwnt looking at 
 Lancelot.] My lord, I do thy bidding — 
 Lancelot, stay! 
 
 \TJie Knights of the Q.x-:v\ file past, singing as 
 they go. 
 
 Ere those lips be dumb 
 
 That would bid thee stay ; 
 Ere the night be come. 
 Rise, and come away ! 
 We, who go forth to seek the Holy Grail, 
 Win, ere night be come, 
 Light that shall not fail.
 
 ACT II. 
 
 The Queen's Maying. 
 
 Scene -.— The slope of a hill in spring-time studded 
 with bnsJies of whitethorn. A company of Maidens, 
 garlanded zvith zvJiite 7nay, descend the slope. 
 They are followed by GUINEVERE and her Ladies. 
 
 The May Song. 
 
 RE upon its snowy bed 
 
 Lies the firstborn of the spring, 
 Ere the crocus lifts its head, 
 Or the swallow finds its wing, 
 Love is here : 
 Say ye then Earth's flowers shall fade .-" 
 
 We shall tell ye nay : 
 Love, the first of all flowers made, 
 Lives from May to May. 
 
 He beneath whose sun-kissed feet 
 
 Daisies rise to kiss the sun, 
 Lily, rose, and meadow-sweet, — 
 
 Love, that is all flowers in one, 
 Love is here. 
 Heed not then the blooms that fall, 
 
 Dying with the day. 
 Love, the sweetest flower of all, 
 
 Lives from May to May. 
 
 Guin. Here, on the verge of this untravelled wood. 
 Beneath Love's flowering banner, we have set
 
 ACT II. 31 
 
 Our camp of war. For, know ye, ladies all, 
 
 That dread adventure whereunto ye are called 
 
 Is no poor mockery of a tournament 
 
 Such as our lords love, jousting for a prize ! 
 
 Our cause is mortal ; and those unseen swords 
 
 We women wield are forged to pierce men's hearts. 
 
 Whereat, if any cheek grow white with fear, 
 
 Let its poor owner straightway quit the field. 
 
 Nay, all are brave .'' 'tis well. Ere day had dawned 
 
 Our scouts and spies, which are the winged birds, 
 
 Reported that a band of swaggering knights 
 
 Did challenge our approach ; 'gainst them we war. 
 
 Yet hear me — not like timorous men who find 
 
 Their courage grow from fellowship in fear, 
 
 Wherefore in serried ranks they face their foe. 
 
 Our greater strength hath ever best been proved 
 
 In single combat : so we fight to-day ; 
 
 Nor need these fairer faces be encased 
 
 In casques of steel ; that never was our plan — 
 
 For so indeed we should but hide from view 
 
 All Love's bright armoury that lodges there. 
 
 But, truth, I waste my breath where all are skilled 
 
 In these same arts of war. Therefore set forth, 
 
 Each on her chosen way, for in this wood 
 
 Lurks many a pleasant bower o'er-roofed with green, 
 
 Where moss and harebells weave a patterned floor 
 
 With shifting tracery of added gold. 
 
 Shot from the sun's eyes, peeping through the 
 
 boughs 
 Of flowering thorn. There should each lady lead 
 Her conquered knight, that so, by gentler arts, 
 Her love may cure the wounds that Love hath 
 
 made. 
 So, fare we all till sunset. Haste, away ! 
 
 \As tJiey move tozvards the zvood Dagonet 
 rushes iji mid falls on his knees before 
 the Queen. He bears a large rough 
 garland of flotvers hanging about his 
 neck like a horse-collar.
 
 32 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Dag. [ Who is treinblitig zuitJi mock fear.'] Sweet 
 ladies, save me though ye love me not ! 
 I am sore pressed. 
 
 Guin. What, hath some beast pursued thee ? 
 
 I^ag. Ay, truth, a most sweet beast, yet fearsome, 
 too. 
 
 Clarissant. I pray you, madam, let us call these 
 knights. 
 We are in danger else. 
 
 G 111)1. Is this your valour. 
 
 That so you quake at shadows ? Shame on ye ! 
 
 Dag. Ay, shame, for here is a beast that will harm 
 no lady, though at this budding season 'tis very fatal 
 to man. 
 
 Guin. I would hear more of this beast. What 
 form hath it } 
 
 Dag. Well, to be plain yet modest withal, and not 
 too curious, it is in all things shaped like a woman, 
 
 Guin. Truly, a very monstrous woman that would 
 so pursue a fool. 
 
 Dag. Faith, there be many such, though 'tis only 
 your sage fool that fears them. 
 
 Gtiin. Rise, Dagonet, and tell us how it chanced. 
 
 Dag. Then stiffen your sinews, for 'tis a heart- 
 shaking legend. Hither came I through the wood, 
 thinking of naught, and so counting myself wise 
 beyond my years, when of a sudden I espied a maid 
 who tended a herd of swine; whereat, I do confess 
 it, I fell a-weeping bitterly, for surely never was 
 mortal woman so fitly employed. 
 
 Clarissant. You hear him, madam. 
 
 Gnin. Nay, let him run on. 
 
 Dag. Ay, 'tis the finish that will cause ye to 
 quake. For this same maid, not content with her 
 most righteous calling, and haply moved by my tears, 
 most artfully flung this halter about my neck, and 
 swore a most villainous oath that she loved me well. 
 Whereat I, being, as 'tis known, only half a fool, 
 slipped from her embrace, and fled incontinently.
 
 ACT II. 33 
 
 Giiin. Now thou art half a man, and therefore a 
 most complete fool, that could so dread to be loved. 
 
 Dag. Wherein thou art wrong, for I have a leaning 
 that way, being very tenderly fashioned, and with a 
 taste for red lips. But alack, I am troubled with a 
 most constant heart that goes not with love ! 
 
 Gtiin. How say you .-' Is it so wise to rail against 
 constancy ? 
 
 Dag. Nay, I would question thee. Canst tell me 
 now what is most like to a river that drains to the sea .'' 
 
 Guin. Faith, I cannot. 
 
 Dag. Why, a maiden who weeps in the rain. 
 
 Guin. Where hast thou seen that .-' 
 
 Dag. Last night, where I sheltered from the storm, 
 there passed a lady sobbing as she rode, and with her 
 tears the rain kept even tune ; 'twas a sweet contest, 
 yet I'll warrant her eyes outstayed the drippings of 
 the sky. 
 
 Giiin. Knew you her face ? 
 
 Dag. 'Twas laid so low upon her palfrey's neck I 
 saw it not. 
 
 Guiii. Go, fool, on your way. 
 
 Dag. Ay, madam, by your leave, for I must seek 
 the King, who comes from hunting. In May-time your 
 King and your fool were ever very prettily assorted. 
 
 \He goes up the hill siiigi7ig. 
 
 The cuckoo's note doth haunt the May, 
 
 And some are glad, 
 
 And some grow mad, 
 But the fool goes singing on his way. 
 
 \^Exit Dagonet. As he goes the QUEEN 
 stands wrapt in thought. 
 Clarissant. Nay, madam, see, 'tis noon ; we waste 
 
 our day. 
 Guin. \_Rousiiig herself.^ Truly ; lift up your voices : 
 let us on. 
 
 D
 
 34 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 May Song. 
 
 Dreaming 'neath a whitened thorn, 
 
 Like a rose-leaf on the snow, 
 Lovers ! ere the day be worn. 
 
 Ye shall find him and shall know, 
 Love is here. 
 And, at nightfall when ye part, 
 
 Whispering shall say : 
 Love is lord of every heart. 
 
 Love is lord of May. 
 
 \The Ladies wander off through the zvood 
 preceded by the company of singing 
 waidens, whose voices grow gradnal/y 
 fainter as they are lost in the distance, 
 and at the last GUINEVERE follozvs 
 slowly, and as she goes off, MORGAN 
 enters, and stands gazing after Iter, 
 while at the same time MERLIN appears 
 on the rising path above. 
 Morg. March on, my Queen, in all thy bravery ! 
 He that is lord of May and of thy heart. 
 Blind leader of the blind, shall draw thee on. 
 Where Lancelot waits for thee, love's slave and ours. 
 Mer. The scabbard's gone, but England's lord 
 
 Holds till death the naked sword. 
 Morg. [Seeing Imn.'] What wouldst thou now whose 
 work is wellnigh done } 
 May-day is here, and we, thy ministers, 
 Need no fresh spur to hasten Fate's decree. 
 
 Mer. [Approaching her.] At dawn I heard the 
 splashing of the mere. 
 And saw that jewelled scabbard sink and sink 
 Till, like a glittering rainbow, down the deep 
 It vanished, and the shuddering tide grew still. 
 Dost thou know aught of this .■* 
 
 Morg. Not I, forsooth ! 
 
 Mer. Thou liest, for I tracked thee in thy theft,
 
 ACT II. 35 
 
 And saw thee creep beside the sleeping King, 
 Whose hand held fast that naked blade which 
 
 gleamed, 
 A bar of quivering moonlight, by his side. 
 Thou hast stol'n the scabbard, but no mortal hand 
 Shall take the sword. 
 
 Morg. What then 1 thyself didst say — 
 
 The scabbard's worth doth far outweigh the sword. 
 
 Mer. To him, but not to thee, 'Tis naught to thee : 
 Who steals the scabbard doth but draw the sword ; 
 Who holds the sword, holds all save life, and wins, 
 Though life be spent, a deathless crown from death. 
 Morg. Whose hand shall take it then, when death 
 
 draws near } 
 Mer. When those Queens of Night shall steer 
 Arthur's barge across the mere, 
 She who long ago did bring 
 England's sword to England's King, 
 She shall claim Excalibur ! 
 
 \_Exit Merlin. 
 Morg. Croak on, let Death but come ; we'll chance 
 the rest ! 
 
 Enter MORDRED. 
 
 Mord. Whose voice was that .'' 
 
 Morg. 'Twas Merlin's, who grows old. 
 
 And babbles like a child. What is thy news ? 
 
 Mord. Beyond our hope ; Ryons and Mark are 
 joined 
 In equal strength of war, and, by this hour. 
 Their glittering squadrons, like a serpent, coil 
 Around Caerleon's walls. 
 
 Morg. Whence got you this } 
 
 Mord. Sir Morys from Caerleon rode post haste 
 To warn our Master. He will ride no more. 
 
 [ ToiicJiing his sword. 
 
 Morg. 'Tis well; your men keep watch on every road }
 
 36 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Mord. Ay, all are guarded : let but this day pass 
 With no unwelcome note to wake the King, 
 Then war may shriek its loudest ; all is sure. 
 Morg. Hast thou forgotten Lancelot ? 
 Mord. [In alarm.'] What of him ? 
 
 Morg. Nay, track him through the wood, and thou 
 shalt learn. 
 Come hither ; see where, trembling, hand to hand. 
 With speechless answering eyes, they woo the spring. 
 Love sets the snare, but the caged bird is ours. 
 For ere night's dusky arms enfold the sun, 
 Lancelot shall be thy partner and thy slave. 
 
 \Exeimt Morgan and Mordred, The May 
 Song is heard faintly in the distance. 
 
 Enter SiR Lavaine and Clarissant. 
 
 Lavaine. Dost think our love will live from Ma)^ to 
 May? 
 
 Clarissant. Nay, ask me that when May-day comes 
 again. 
 
 Lavaine. Ah, tell me now ! 
 
 Clarissant. I'll tell thee all I know. 
 
 If thou dost woo me well, I'll love thee well, — 
 Should no one woo me better ! 
 
 Lavaine. Wouldst thou be wooed 
 
 That art already won .'' 
 
 Clarissant. Most surely, sir ! 
 
 Who holds my heart must win it every day ; 
 And when 'tis won, 'tis then it must be wooed 
 And won again, 
 
 Lavaine. Why, 'twas but yesterday 
 
 That thou didst swear thy love would last till death. 
 
 Claj'issant. Ay, that was yesterday. 
 
 Lavaine. And shall thine oath 
 
 Live but an hour } 
 
 Clarissa7it. What is there in these oaths 
 
 That you poor men so fondly cherish them } 
 Perchance they fit your duller brains, which seek,
 
 ACT IL 37 
 
 With empty words, to bind the unborn hours. 
 But we do wrong to humour you in this. 
 We should not swear at all, knowing full well 
 There's no to-morrow in a woman's heart, 
 Which hath its yesterday of joy or pain, 
 Whose savour, lingering on our lips to-day, 
 Makes all the present half a memory — 
 The future all a blank. Then ask me not 
 If I shall love thee when the year is worn ; 
 I loved thee yesterday : so be content. 
 
 Lavaine. Ah, but thou lovest to-day } 
 
 Clarissant. To-day is young ; 
 
 Ask me at sundown, I will tell thee then. 
 
 \Exit laughing, and he following her. 
 
 Enter GuiNEVERE and LANCELOT. 
 
 Gnin. The wood is dark. Let us be in the sun. 
 
 Lan. 'Twas dark ere yet the glory of thy face 
 Came, like a golden message from the sun. 
 And now, beneath this open vault of day, 
 'Twould change again to night wert thou not here. 
 
 Gnin. I had a foolish fear I should not find thee. 
 
 Lan. Nay, Guinevere, thou know'st that could not 
 be. 
 
 Guin. Indeed, 'tis true, for wandering alone 
 Across the leafy screen that hedged my way, 
 From every side I heard the echoing laugh 
 Of Love's encounter. Then the wood grew still, 
 And, softer than the silence, came the sound 
 Of whispered vows from lips but newly met ; 
 And then, beneath an opening arch of green, 
 Two lovers passed, with hand in hand locked 
 
 close. 
 Ah, Lancelot ! I was lonely as a child 
 Locked in a darkened room. I called thee then ; 
 Didst thou not hear me } 
 
 Lan. Ay, and sav/ thee, too. 
 
 Guin. Thou didst not answer .-'
 
 S8 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Lan. Nay, forgive me, sweet ! 
 
 I could but watch thee. 
 
 Guin. That was cruel, sir. 
 
 Lan. 'Twas but an instant. 
 
 Guilt. No, it was a year ! 
 
 And in that year a thousand thronging fears 
 With devil faces perched amid the boughs. 
 
 Lmi. What were thy fears ? 
 
 Guin. So many all in one : 
 
 That I should lose thee. 
 
 W^K^QYA^OT putting his arms round her. 
 
 Lan. Never, until death. 
 
 Gidn. Ah, speak not so of death ! I have seen a 
 face 
 That frighted me like death. 
 
 Lan. [Starting.] Whose face and where .'* 
 
 Guin. Within the wood. 'Twas Merlin's, but so 
 old, 
 Lancelot, so old and worn I knew it not. 
 
 Lan. Those empty words of his do haunt thee 
 still. 
 I wonder at thy fears. 
 
 Gui7t. Nay, scold me not. 
 
 There's nothing haunts me when I have thee near. 
 Love shuts the door on all things save itself. 
 On all that's past, on all that is to come 
 When thou art by ! Tell me, 'tis so with thee ? 
 
 Lan. Ay, sweet, 'tis so. 
 
 Guin. Ah, say it once again ! 
 
 I could not live, Lancelot, if in thy heart 
 There lurked the tiniest little ache or pain 
 Love might not cure. 
 
 Lan. Thou knowest all my heart ; 
 
 And in my love, which knows no law but love. 
 The future and the past are drowning straws 
 Caught in the full tide of our present joy, 
 That neither ebbs nor flows.
 
 AC7^ If. 
 
 [He holds her in a close embrace as MORGAN 
 and MORDRED enter stealthily ; at the 
 saine time is heard the sound of distant 
 tJmndcr, and the scene darkens. 
 Morg. Dost mark them well ? 
 
 Lan. Ambition, honour, duty, all that life 
 Once held most dear, by thy sweet will subdued, 
 Now wear Love's livery and would serve Love's 
 Queen. 
 
 [ The thunder is heard again and nearer. 
 Guin. [Starting?^ What sound was that ? See, it 
 
 grows dark again ! 
 Lan. 'Tis but a cloud. 
 
 Guin. It came like sudden night. 
 
 Let us go in. \Thunder again. 
 
 Ah, 'tis the thunder's bolt 
 That cracks the sky ! 
 
 Lan. Nay, tremble not ; 'twill pass, 
 
 And leave Heaven's deeper blue. What shouldst 
 thou fear.'' 
 Guin. I know not. Hold me closer, closer still, 
 That so my heart may catch the fearless tune 
 Of thy heart's steadfast music. Now I am brave, 
 And could be always, wert thou always here. 
 So let us on. Yet tell me o'er again — 
 Ah, I do tease thee ; 'tis but this once more — 
 Tell me, whate'er befall, that thou art mine ! 
 Lan. For ever and for ever I am thine. 
 
 [A crash of thunder and a lightning fiasJi. 
 Mord. [Looking after them.'] He lies, my Queen ; 
 not thine, but mine till death !
 
 ACT III. 
 
 The Black Barge. 
 
 Scene : — A vaulted chamber ope?iing on to the river. 
 
 As the curtain draivs up enter SiR 'La^NC^I.OT, followed 
 by Sir Kay, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Agravaine. 
 
 Lancelot. 
 IR MORYS slain ? 
 Gaw. Ay, murdered. 
 
 Lan. But by whom ? 
 
 Kay. That's still to find. Know you from 
 whence he came ? 
 Lan. Straight from Caerleon, whither, as I heard. 
 He rode with sealed advices for the King. 
 
 Kay. Said I not well .-* Arthur hath been forestalled. 
 Lan. Why, 'twas but yesterday the King did note 
 His long delay. 
 
 Gaiv. It was but yesternight 
 
 We found him murdered. 
 
 Lan. Sirs, if this be so. 
 
 There's something more than murder. 
 
 Kay. More, in truth ! 
 
 Lancelot, some traitor lurking near the throne, 
 In secret league with Arthur's enemies. 
 By this same villainous act now stands possessed 
 Of what the King should know. 
 
 Agra. 
 
 Gazv. Let Lancelot speak. 
 
 What must be done }
 
 ACT III. 41 
 
 La7t. I'll straightway to the King 
 
 And tell him all. Then, should we win his leave, 
 At nightfall we'll to horse, nor draw the rein 
 Until Caerleon's towers cut the sky. 
 
 \_Exeimt Kay, Agravaine, ajid Gawaike. 
 
 During the next speech MORDRED enters. 
 
 Whose hand is here .'' Of all our knights but one 
 In my most secret heart dare stand accused 
 Of this foul deed. \Tiirns mid sees MoRDRED. 
 
 Mordred ! Morys is slain ! 
 
 Mord. Sir Morys slain ! Nay, 'tis some idle jest. 
 
 Lan. That is not all ; the advices that he bore — 
 Are stolen. 
 
 Mord. Stolen } Is it possible .-' 
 
 Lan. Ay, sir, and true ; which news must to the 
 King. 
 
 Mord. Most surely : yet not now ; he is fatigued, 
 And would not be disturbed. To-morrow, sir. 
 
 Lan. Nay, sir, to-day ; an hour's delay may risk 
 The safety of his throne, perchance his life. 
 
 Mord. Well, sir, what then ? 
 
 Lan. \In amazement?^ What then .'' 
 
 Mord. Nay, spare thy skill ; 
 
 'Tis aptly feigned ; in faith, I'd say 'twas true 
 Did I not hold a key that locks thy heart. 
 
 Lan. What dost thou mean } 
 
 Mord. I mean, should Arthur pass 
 
 He leaves behind a kingdom, and a Queen 
 Who loves him not. 
 
 Lati. Who says so foully lies ! 
 
 Mord. Lancelot, throw off this mask, it fits thee 
 not ; 
 Be what thou art, nor fear what thou wouldst be. 
 Let candour answer candour. It was I 
 Who slew this messenger. His papers here 
 Bring the rich news that ere a week be past 
 Caerleon's gates must yield to the assault
 
 42 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 or Ryons' siege, whose vengeance stays not there ; 
 The King himself is doomed; and, the King dead, 
 His throne is mine, and thine his widowed Queen. 
 
 Lan. Traitor ! I knew it. Thou shalt to the King, 
 In whose dread presence, from that villain's throat, 
 I'll force those words again. 
 
 Mord. I dare thy worst ! 
 
 Yet breathe one word and I will tell a tale 
 Shall make thee cower like a beaten hound. 
 
 Lan. Thou'st naught to tell. 
 
 Mord. What ! are her kisses naught } 
 
 Fie, sir, for shame ! So then thou didst not guess 
 I lurked so near, and saw thee lip to lip. 
 Cuddling beneath the may ; that is love's trick. 
 Who blindfold deems that all the world is blind. 
 Now to the King ! See, sir, the way is clear. 
 What ! Wouldst thou pause 1 Hast thou no heart to 
 win 
 
 That sweet reward that waits thy loyal zeal 
 
 A traitor's death .-* 
 
 Lan. What were that death to me .? 
 
 Mord. True ! but the Queen } 
 
 Lan. Vile wretch ! 
 
 ^Movement towards MoRDRED. 
 
 Mord. Look where she comes ; 
 
 Take thought with her, she will advise thee well. 
 We men are rash, a woman's subtler wit 
 Serves better in such case. Truth, but she's fair — 
 So fair, — why, Lancelot, I repent me now 
 I kept not this sweet morsel for mine own, 
 
 Lan. Out of my sight ! 
 
 Mord. [Aside.] His tongue is safely gagged ; 
 
 Yet he's but half corrupt, I'll trust him not. [Exit. 
 
 Lancelot stands in despair as Guinevere etiters. 
 
 Guin. Who went from thee .'' 
 
 Lan. 'Twas Mordred. 
 
 Guin. [Approaching him.] Lancelot,
 
 ACT in. 43 
 
 Some evil hath befall'n ! 
 
 Lan. 'Tis naught. \He turns away. 
 
 Guilt. 'Tis much 
 
 Can make thee turn from me ; ah, but I'll know it ! 
 Didst thou not swear our love should cure all ill ? 
 Then tell me all. 
 
 La7i. Caerleon is besieged ; 
 
 Should succour fail 'twill yield to Ryons' arms. 
 
 Giiin. Who brings these tidings .-' 
 
 Lan. Mordred. 
 
 Gtdn. And the King ? 
 
 Lan. Knows naught. 
 
 Guin. [ Wii/i sudden horror.^ Knows naught ? Lan- 
 celot, ah no ! ah no ! 
 Sure thou wouldst tell the King. 
 
 Lan. Indeed I would. 
 
 Guin. Then wherefore pause .^ 
 
 Lan. Oh, had I died but then, 
 
 In that sweet hour when first I learned thy love, 
 I had been happy ! 
 
 Guin. What is in thy heart .-' 
 
 Lan. Mordred is false, 
 
 Guin. False t 
 
 Lan. Ay, 'tis he that's hatched 
 
 This plot against the King, whereby he thinks 
 To seize the throne. 
 
 Guin. Then thou shalt prove him false 
 
 And save the King. 
 
 Lati. I dare not. 
 
 Guin. Dare not .'* 
 
 Lan. No : 
 
 All, all is known. 
 
 Guin. To whom .-* 
 
 Lan. To him ; he was there 
 
 Beside us in the May ; his trait'rous hand 
 Grips at my throat and makes me traitor too. 
 
 Giiin. No, no, that cannot be. Ah, look not so ! 
 What wouldst thou do } 
 
 Lan. Nay, ask what have I done }
 
 44 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Was there no lamp in Heaven to stay our feet ? 
 Was the night starless, that we needs must wait 
 Till love's torch, setting all the world ablaze. 
 Lights up love's ruinous way ? Ah, Guinevere, 
 I'd die a hundred deaths but now to win 
 One hour of life that's past ; ay, one short hour, 
 So I might drag this devil to the throne 
 And shout his villainies in every ear, 
 
 Guin. Then do it now. 
 
 La7i. I cannot. 
 
 Guin. Yea, thou canst ! 
 
 Who is there that should stay thee, 'tis not I ! 
 Let love go down the wind, what boots it now .-' 
 Look to thyself ; think not of all that 's lost. 
 That is all mine : for thee there still remains 
 Thy soldier's honour, take it, keep it pure. 
 
 Lan, What have I said } 
 
 Gtiiii. Ah, go ! [ Throws Jiei'self on couch. 
 
 Lan. {Throwing Jiinisclf at her feet l\ My Queen! 
 My Queen ! 
 There's nothing in the world to win or lose 
 Can count beside thy love. I lied but now ; 
 King, honour, country, all that knighthood boasts 
 Of faith and loyalty in life or death 
 Weighs not against the memory of one kiss 
 From thy dear lips. 
 
 Gnin. Then thou art mine again. 
 
 To hear thee say that all the world was naught 
 Against our love hath made me mad for joy. 
 Yet stay not now; I have a thought to think, 
 And needs must be alone. 
 
 Lan. Yet, ere I go, 
 
 Hear this one word : all that is left of life 
 Is thine to keep or thine to fling away, 
 So I may have thy love, 
 
 [Exit Lancelot. 
 
 Guin. Thou hast, indeed ! 
 
 So all is won again, and all is lost ! 
 So do we strive that we may have the more
 
 ACT III. 45 
 
 To cast away : and now, when at my feet 
 
 He lays his sword, his life, ay, and his soul, 
 
 I do but long to find some better way 
 
 To give him all again ; ay, all again ! \^Looks off. 
 
 It is the King. How may I find that way ? 
 
 Erite?' Arthur. 
 
 Artk. Ah, thou art here. I bring thee such sad 
 news 
 As needs must wring thy heart. 
 
 Guin. What news, my lord .-' 
 
 Artk. Elaine is dead ! 
 
 Gui7i. Dead ! Who hath told thee this ? 
 
 ArtJi. There, yonder by the shore, her body lies 
 Who, while she lived, was named the Fair Elaine. 
 Canst thou not w^eep .'' 
 
 Guin. Truly, my lord, I think 
 
 I've lost the use of tears. 
 
 ArtJi. Thou wouldst have wept 
 
 Hadst thou been there when down the vacant 
 
 stream 
 That black barge floated, like a speck of night, 
 Blown on the winds of dawn ; and on its deck, 
 Fallen as a feather from a white dove's wing, 
 Lay this new prize of Death ; whose cunning hands 
 Had wrought in such fair mimicry of life 
 That on her parted lips there lingered yet 
 The memory of a smile. 
 
 Guin, Why then, perchance. 
 
 She's happier far than some who needs must live 
 And smile no more. 
 
 Arth. It may be ; for that brow 
 
 Had caught from Death some secret of content 
 It knew not here, and, looking in those eyes. 
 Whose tears had ceased their traffic, I dared think, 
 If aught of sin was there, 'tis pardoned now. 
 
 Guin. Of sin .'' What sin .'' 
 
 Arth. Ay, for it must be so :
 
 46 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Some sin there was though unrecorded here ; 
 Some stain that smirched her seeming purity, 
 Which Lancelot, all too noble, could not urge ; 
 Else were it not in nature to refuse 
 So sweet a gift. 
 
 Giiin. If that indeed be true, 
 
 Were it enough to shut the doors of love ? 
 Arth. Enough ? What wouldst thou ask ? 
 Gtcin. Ay ! Ay ! enough. 
 
 Enough and more ! Yet, in some greater heart. 
 As his, or thine, methought that love might find 
 Forgiveness e'en for that. 
 
 Arth. Nay, Avrong him not, 
 
 Whose upward gaze, set level with the stars, 
 Would lift from earth the soul he crowns with love, 
 Making her more than woman ; whence if she fall — 
 Like some lost planet hurled from highest Heaven — 
 She falls to endless night. 
 
 {During Arthur's speech the distant throb of 
 a mournful march is heard sloivly 
 approaching. 
 Guin. Most like 'tis so, 
 
 And death the only way. What sound is that } 
 Arth. Up from the stream they bear her body 
 hither, 
 Where it shall rest beneath this royal roof, 
 Till, with such liberal honours as befit 
 So fair a flower, 'tis set again in earth. 
 
 {The procession enters, headed by MORDRED 
 
 and Morgan. Four Knights bear 
 
 Elaine ajid are followed by a company 
 
 of Maidens. 
 
 Morg. {Aside to MoRDRED.] Her cheek grows pale ; 
 
 she will betray herself. 
 
 {She passes across the stage and takes Jier place 
 behind the QUEEN. At a sign from 
 MORDRED the Knights fnove forivard 
 till they come to zvhere GuiNEVERE is 
 standing rigid and motionless. Then
 
 ACT III. A7 
 
 they stop in silence till GuiNEVERE, 
 without turning, cries in agony. 
 Giiin. Go on ! and set it down ! 
 Mord. {Coming forward.'] Madam, by your 
 leave, 
 In that white hand of death a letter lies. 
 Whose seal we dared not break, for 'tis inscribed 
 "To Guinevere, the Queen." 
 
 Arth. [To Guinevere.] Then break the seal, 
 Which hides perchance some secret of her love 
 We know not yet. 
 
 [Guinevere tries to approach the bier, but 
 cannot touch the body; then with a 
 despairing appeal she tnrns to ArthuIv. 
 Gtiin. I cannot ! Give it me. 
 
 [Arthur takes the letter zvJiich GUINEVERE 
 
 opens and lets fall, staggering back into 
 
 the arms of MORGAN, zvhose eyes gleam 
 
 in trinmph. 
 
 Morg. Nay, madam, nay ; what is it moves thee 
 
 thus ? 
 
 [MORDRED/zV/^j up the letter and gives it to 
 the King. 
 Arth. [Reading.A, " I that was named Elaine of 
 Astolat, 
 Whose mortal love for Lancelot passed all measure, 
 Seeing he loves another, choose to die." 
 We knew not this. Go, call Sir Lancelot here. 
 
 Guin. My lord, my lord 
 
 \_SJie struggles forward as though to stop the 
 King's command, and then szvoons into 
 Morgan's arms. 
 Arth. Look to the Queen. 
 
 [Morgan and Iter Women support her from 
 the stage, and at the same time the Knights 
 lay the body of Elaine tinder the alcove, 
 and then exeunt, leaving ARTHUR and 
 Mordred alone. 
 Mord. [Aside.] Ere Lancelot's blow can fall
 
 48 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 I'll strike him to the heart. 
 
 Arth. \_Holding the letter^ If this be true, 
 'Tis strange that none had known, 
 
 Moi^d. What's that, my lord ? 
 
 Arth. What's here set down of Lancelot's later love. 
 
 Mord. Now would to Heaven those words had 
 ne'er been writ 
 Or ne'er been read. 
 
 Arth. Why so.? 
 
 Mord. Didst thou not note 
 
 How the Oueen's soul was stirred .-* 
 
 Arth. She is not used 
 
 To look on death ; which, coming in such guise, 
 Might move our soldier hearts. 
 
 Mord. Ay, but methought 
 
 It was Death's message and not Death itself 
 That turned those red lips white. 
 
 Arth. Mordred, what's this .? 
 
 Think you the Queen hath known of this same love .-* 
 
 Mord. Nay, I'll not answer that. 
 
 Arth. Nay, but thou shalt. 
 
 What is to fear } 
 
 Mord. My lord, thou art my King ; 
 
 My sword is thine, and with that sword my life ; 
 But with that life my loyal service ends, 
 And what is left thou wilt not ask of me- 
 
 Arth. Who is it that he loves } 
 
 Mord. In sooth, I thought 
 
 What all the world had known was known to thee ; 
 Were it not so these lips had still been dumb. 
 But now 'tis best 'twere said — he loves the Queen ! 
 
 \A pause. 
 
 Arth. Who forged this lie .'' Nay, Mordred, 'tis not 
 thou ; 
 And yet I wonder, too, to find thee duped 
 By this poor tale bred in some baser soul 
 That loves not Lancelot. 
 
 Mord. What ! thou think'st 'tis false t 
 
 Why then, my lord, 'tis false. I'll think so, too,
 
 ACT in. 49 
 
 We'll speak of it no more. 
 
 Arth. Ay, but we will, 
 
 And track this running poison to its source, 
 Which else should turn all the pure springs of life 
 To pools of festering filth. 
 
 Enter MORGAN hurriedly. 
 
 Morg. My lord, the Queen 
 
 Why thou art pale ! Nay, do not take it so ; 
 'Twas but a sudden fit, and soon will pass. 
 
 Arth. Morgan, come hither : know'st thou aught of 
 this } 
 
 Morg. Of what, my lord .'' 
 
 Arth. Of Lancelot's love for her 
 
 The Queen .'* 
 
 Morg. The Queen } Now who hath told thee this .^ 
 {Turning to M.Q^T)^^V>^^ Shame on thee, shame! I 
 
 pray you heed him not. 
 I would have cut my tongue out ere I'd spoken 
 Such evil of our mistress ! 
 
 ArtJi. Let him be; 
 
 He doth but hint what every hawker cries. 
 
 Morg. But he did wrong to speak, and thou to hear. 
 So sweet a lady, and at such an hour ! 
 Were I a man, for all he is my child, 
 My sword should answer him. 
 
 Mord. [With assumed anger.'] Now this is more 
 Than I have will to bear ! Why 'twas thyself 
 Didst tell how yesternight Sir Lancelot 
 Went to her bower alone. 
 
 ArtJi. Didst thou say so ? 
 
 Morg. In truth 'twas so ; and hath been so 
 before ; 
 Yet did I think no wrong ; and now I'm sure 
 He bore some message from the King himself. 
 
 Arth. No, he did not, 
 
 Morg. Well, then be sure 'twas naught, 
 
 E
 
 50 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 And she shall prove it naught. 
 
 Mord. Nay, mother, nay, 
 
 Let us be honest ! Thou wouldst serve the Queen, 
 And so would I ; yet may we not be false 
 To him whom Heaven hath made her lord and 
 
 ours. 
 How canst thou say 'twas naught ? Why, thou wast 
 
 there 
 Beside me, when they kissed beneath the May. 
 
 Ai'th. [Turns slowly towards MORGAN.] Tell him 
 he lies. 
 
 Morg. My lord, my lord, I cannot. [A pause. 
 
 ArtJi. There'll come a time when I shall know full 
 well 
 This is a dream ; but now I'll play it out 
 As though 'twere true. Go, get thee to the Queen. 
 
 Morg. Think not too ill of her. 
 
 Arth. Nay, nor of thee. [£",rzV MORGAN. 
 
 \To MORDRED.] Go on, there's more to come Think 
 
 you he knows 
 You lurked so near and saw him .'' 
 
 Mord. Ay, most sure, 
 
 For now, with lying tongue, he goes about 
 Whispering that I have hatched some treacherous 
 
 plot 
 Against thy throne and thee. 
 
 Arth. Why, then I think 
 
 This is some other Lancelot ye have met, 
 And this some other King ! He whom I knew 
 Was of all knights the bravest and the truest. 
 Serving a lord who could not have stood dumb 
 To hear his name befouled. 
 
 Lancelot enters and approaches the KiNG, 
 who does not turn to him, 
 
 Lan. My lord, I am here. 
 
 Didst thou not send for me .-' 
 
 Arth. Ay, so I did.
 
 ACT III. 51 
 
 Lancelot, the scabbard of Excalibur 
 Is stol'n. 
 
 Lan. Who is the thief ? 
 ArtJi. 'Tis thou shalt say. 
 
 Dost think 'tis Mordred ? 
 
 Lan. \Starting?\ Why should I think so ? 
 
 Arth. Why not? I have heard there is some 
 grosser charge 
 That thou wouldst bring against him. 
 
 Mord. [ WitJi. assumed indignation^ Nay, my good 
 
 lord 
 
 Arth. Let Lancelot speak. 
 
 Lan. [After a pause.'] My lord, I bring no charge. 
 Arth. Lancelot, think well; art sure thou know'st 
 of naught 
 That should disturb our peace ? 
 
 Lan. [After a pause.'] Of naught, my lord. 
 
 Arth. 'Tis well, 'tis well ; then both of ye are true. 
 I^an. Was it for this that thou didst send for 
 
 me .'' 
 Arth. Not so. Come hither, that thine eyes may 
 feast 
 On this sweet picture. 
 
 [Lancelot turns and starts at the sight of 
 Elaine. 
 
 Nay, sir, note it well ! 
 Death too hath gone a-maying, and hath plucked 
 Life's fairest flower — Elaine. 
 
 La?L Methought she slept. 
 
 Arth. Ay, past all waking ; and wouldst know the 
 
 cause ^ 
 Lan. The cause .•* 
 
 Arth. Why she doth sleep; 'tis written here. 
 
 [He gives Lancelot the letter; as the King 
 watches him he reads it, attd then falls 
 on his knees before the bier. 
 Yet squander not thy grief; she heeds thee not. 
 The dead are dead ; we give them ne'er a thought 
 Whose care is for the living ; and, of all. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY or CALIFORNiA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 52 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 The most for thee. Wherever she may dwell, 
 This new-found beauty that hath lured thy heart, 
 We shall command her love. Nay, but we shall ; 
 For thou art known the courtliest, truest knight 
 That ever served a king. Then speak her name. 
 
 Lan. My lord, in truth 
 
 Arth. Nay, sir, who is this maid ? 
 
 Lan. There is no maid. 
 
 Arth. Lancelot, thou say est well ; 
 
 It is the Queen. 
 
 Lan. Ah, no ! 
 
 Arth. Thou knowest 'tis so! 
 
 Thou art the thief who so hast stolen away 
 That scabbard that was worth a hundred swords. 
 
 Lan. Whose tongue hath told thee this ^ here on 
 my life 
 I'll answer him who dares accuse her honour. 
 
 Mord. Then answer me. 
 
 Lan. Liar ! and so I will ! 
 
 Yet first I'd have thee known for what thou art. 
 Traitor — I charge thee now. 
 
 Mord. [ WUJl a sneer. '\ Said I not well > 
 
 Guinevere enters unseen. 
 
 Arth. li he be traitor, what art thou whose sword 
 Strikes at my heart, yet would defend my throne } 
 Prove this is false, and I'll believe him false ; 
 Prove that he lies, and I'll believe thee true. 
 
 Lan. Again I swear 'tis false. 
 
 Guin. {Coming bettveen them.'\ Nay, nay, 'tis true. 
 
 Lan. What hast thou done } 
 
 Guin. All that was left to do. 
 
 ArtJi. Ay, all ; there is no more to do or say ; 
 Death's banner floats above the blackened field, 
 The fight is ended and our day is done. 
 If this be so. But I'll not think 'tis so ; 
 Take back that word, and none shall know 'twas 
 said !
 
 AC 7^ TIL 53 
 
 Ah ! call it back again, and lift the pall 
 
 Death spreads upon my heart ; so shall I kneel 
 
 And bless thee, and this sword shall strike him 
 
 dumb 
 That dares to whisper aught against my Queen. 
 
 \_She stands immovable. 
 Is this so much to ask ? Ay, all too much ! 
 There is no might can give back to the Spring 
 Its lowliest flower dead under changing skies ; 
 Then how should I, with winter at my heart, 
 Plead with the ruined summer for its rose ? 
 Thou hast no word ? 
 
 Gtiin. No word to cure what's done. 
 
 Arth. [To Lancelot.] Then arm thyself; my 
 sword shall find its sheath 
 Deep in thy heart. 
 
 Lan. Strike on ! Strike on ! I say, 
 
 For death is all I crave. 
 
 ArtJi. Then take it now. 
 
 [Arthur nms on Lancelot, bnt the uplifted 
 sword drops from his hand. 
 I cannot kill thee ; 
 
 Some sudden palsy doth beat down this arm : 
 Its strength is gone. Yet think not 'tis the love 
 I bore thee once ; that's clean forgotten now. 
 Nor is it mercy ; for, had this same wrong 
 Chanced to the meanest hind that calls me King, 
 My sword had leapt in vengeance, and my soul 
 Had straight approved the deed. Yet here I stand 
 That cannot strike a blow in mine own cause. 
 Is this a curse that Heaven hath set on kings, 
 Who may not love nor hate like common men ^ 
 Or is there some rank poison in a crown 
 That stamps the brand of coward on the brows 
 Of him who wears it .-^ Go, then, get thee hence ! 
 Join with some foe that dares assault our throne ; 
 With Ryons, or with Mark, who hunger still 
 For open war. Ay, league thyself Avith them ; 
 And, in that hour, the hand that falters now,
 
 54 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 In England's cause shall find its force again, 
 And strike thee to the earth. Till then live on. 
 
 [Lancelot goes out as Arthur turns to 
 
 MORDRED. 
 Leave us alone. There's something left to say, 
 Mordred, that's not for thee. [Exit MORDRED. 
 
 G7iin. And must I live } 
 
 Artk. It is too late to die. 
 
 Guin. Too late ! too late ! 
 
 Artk. Ay ; would Death's marble finger had been 
 laid 
 On those sweet lips when first they linked with mine I 
 
 [Pointing to Elaine. 
 For, locked in Death's white arms, Love lies secure, 
 In changeless sleep that knows no dream of change. 
 'Tis Life, not Death, that is Love's sepulchre ; 
 Where each day tells of passionate hearts grown 
 
 strange, 
 And perjured vows chime with the answering bell 
 That tolls Love's funeral. If thou wouldst boast 
 Of this new sway a woman's wile hath won. 
 Go, tell the world thy heart hath slain a heart 
 That once had been a king's. Yet that's not all, 
 Thou too hast been a Queen whose soul shone 
 
 clear, 
 A star for all men's worship, and a lamp 
 Set high in Heaven, whereby all frailer hearts 
 Should steer their course towards God ; then, 'tis 
 
 not I 
 Whose life lies broken here, for at thy fall 
 A shattered kingdom bleeds. 
 
 [A t the end of this speech a sound of zvarlike 
 music is heard, and the stage fills tvith 
 Knights headed by Gawaine ««^Agra- 
 
 VAINE. 
 Gaiv. My lord ! my lord \ 
 
 Caerleon is besieged.
 
 ACT III. 55 
 
 Enter MORDRED. 
 
 Kay. And we thy knights, 
 
 Here armed and ready, do but wait to know 
 Our King's command. 
 
 Mord. Then let me lead them forth. 
 
 The chance is desperate, and thy greater life 
 Is England's, not thine own ! 
 
 Arth. Nay, thou shalt stay ; 
 
 Thou art the one thing left my soul dare trust. 
 For, in this wreck of love, truth stands for all. 
 Sound out for war. \Pomting to GuiNEVERE.] Yet, 
 
 pray you, use her well ; 
 We do not roughly trample down the flower 
 That grows upon a grave. Then use her well, 
 For there entombed lies one who was my Queen. 
 Gawaine, I come. Thy King shall lead thee forth ; 
 My sword is drawn, I want no scabbard now. 
 
 [Arthur holds up his naked sword, and all 
 the Knights raise their szvords in answer 
 as the curtain falls.
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 The Passing of Arthur. 
 
 Scene i. The QvEEN'sprison 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. 
 
 HO knocks without ? 
 
 Mes. [ PVitho/it.] One who bears a mes- 
 sage for the Oueen. 
 
 [Gaoler opens door and admits 
 the Messenger. 
 Gaoler. What saith Sir Mordred .'* May she see her 
 
 fool ? 
 Mes. Ay, I have brought him hither. 
 Gaoler. That will content her much ; she hath cried 
 often for her fool. 
 
 Mes. Yet methinks she shall suck but poor enter- 
 tainment from the fellow now : his wits are clean gone. 
 And, faith, he is not like to smile again. 
 Gaoler. What mean you, sir } 
 
 Mes. The news of Arthur's death 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 .-• 
 Mes. 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,
 
 ACT IV. SCENE I. 57 
 
 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. 
 
 Gnin. 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 Oueen, must needs be merciful 
 And break its wicker walls. 
 
 Gaoler. {Taking the bird ?)^ I'll cage it now. 
 
 \He goes toivards door, and she sees the 
 Messenger. 
 G7(in. Ah, sir, you're from the Court. Where is my 
 fool. 
 Sir Dagonet .'' Is that denied me too .'' 
 'Twas not so much to ask. 
 
 Ales. Madam, he's here, 
 
 And yet so changed I fear he will not know thee. 
 
 Opejis door, and Dagonet etiters. 
 
 Gnin. That counts for naught. I scarce do know 
 myself. 
 Come hither, Dagonet. Sirs, by your leave. 
 
 [Gaoler and Messenger exeunt. 
 Gjiin. Dost thou not know thy Queen .'' 
 Dag. 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.
 
 58 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Guin. Whose grave ? 
 
 Dag. I know not, for the stone was bare, 
 
 And they did naught but weep. 
 
 Giiui. 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 Death stands forth to claim the harper's fee. 
 
 Enter Gaoler. 
 Gaoler. Make room. Sir Mordred comes. 
 
 Enter MORDRED. 
 
 \Excnnt Gaoler and Dagonet. 
 
 Mord. Great Queen, I bear thee news that sets thee 
 free. 
 
 Gnin. What news is that ? 
 
 Mord. Thy lord, the King, is dead. 
 
 Gnin. Dead ! art thou sure t 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. 
 
 Mord. Truth, thou wert wrong to weep. 
 
 Dost thou not know 'twas Arthur's cruel will 
 That set thee in this prison .'* 
 
 Gtdn. Ay, I know. 
 
 That thou hast said 'twas so. 
 
 Mord. And so it is : 
 
 But now I've come to break these prison bars,
 
 ACT IV. SCENE I. 59 
 
 And so give back unto our desert world 
 Life's sweetest rose that hungers for the sun, 
 
 Gtiifi. And who art thou whose new-found sovereignty 
 Rides o'er the King's decree ? 
 
 Mord. I am thy King. 
 
 Giiin. 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. 
 
 Mord. 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 Death'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. 
 
 Guin. I thought till x\o\\ 
 
 That I had suffered all ; but here I sec 
 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. 
 
 Mord. 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. 
 
 Gitin. A wanton, not a Queen ! 
 
 Who for this piece of gold thou call'st a crown 
 Would take thy murderer's kiss. 
 
 Mord. Nay, have a care ! 
 
 ^ly love lies near to hate. 
 
 Guin. I fear thy love ; 
 
 Thy hate is naught. 
 
 Mord. Truth, thou shalt find it more
 
 6o KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Than thou hast ever dreamed. 
 
 \_Sho7its zvitJioiit, " Long live the Kingy 
 
 Mord. Dost hear that cry ? 
 
 It is the echoing voice of England's knights, 
 Who hail me king. 
 
 Gui7i. And they were Arthur's knights ? 
 
 Mord. 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 Death's bride, or mine — thy choice is free. 
 
 Giiin. Why then I choose to die. Yea, though 
 my soul 
 Slipped down to Hell, Hell were a paradise 
 Whilst thou art here. \^Exit Guinevere. 
 
 Mord. By Heaven, then thou shalt die ! 
 
 Enter Morgan. 
 
 Morg. Ryons is trapped, and dying hath confessed 
 His treason and thine own. 
 
 Mord. Then Arthur lives. 
 
 And all is lost. 
 
 Morg. Nay, all is left to win ; 
 
 This news is secret, and long ere 'tis known 
 Thy sword shall pierce his heart. 
 
 Mord. Or his sword mine. 
 
 Morg. 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. 
 
 \SJioiits " Lo?ig live King Mordred ! DeatJi 
 to Gjiinevere I " grow londer to the end. 
 Go, take thy crown.
 
 ACT IV. SCENE II. 6i 
 
 And none shall dare to question what is done, 
 
 Or what remains to do. \_Exit. 
 
 MonL So Fate take all ! 
 
 To halt were death, and that on-coming flood 
 Of Time's uplifted wave can hold no more. [^Exit. 
 
 Scene 2. The Great Hall at Cainelot. 
 
 As the scene is disclosed the Hall is filled luitJi 
 armed Knights. MORDRED is on the throne, 
 accompanied by MORGAN, and surrounded by the 
 reti7me of the court. 
 
 Guinevere stands before the throne. Mordred 
 
 turns to her. 
 
 Y England's knights in council thou dost stand 
 Condemned of treason 'gainst thy lord the 
 King, 
 
 Whose death 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. 
 
 Agra. We pray you hear her not. 
 
 Guin. \Turning luith a look of scorn towards 
 Mordred.] What still is left to say is not for 
 thee! 
 Mord. Then let the sentence go. Queen Guinevere, 
 Daughter of Leodograunce of Cornwall, 
 Now hear thy judgment as the law decrees : 
 That first, despoiled of thy royal robes. 
 Thou shalt be fastened to an iron stake 
 Until thy mortal body be consumed 
 In fiery flames. 
 
 Guin. And saith the law no more }
 
 62 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Mord. 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. 
 
 Gum. And who is that ? 
 
 Mord. 'Tis I who charge thee now. 
 Gum. 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 faggots 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 death. 
 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, wJio has descended from the 
 throne, zuJiispers aside. 
 Mord. Too late, my Queen ! too late ! What 
 wouldst thou give 
 To win a king's kiss now "i 
 
 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! 
 
 \TJie trumpet sounds, and at the third call 
 Sir Bedevere breaks through the throng 
 and stands before MORDRED. 
 Bed. Hold there, sir herald, hither comes a knight 
 To answer for the Queen. 
 
 Mord. Who is this knight } 
 
 Bed. Sir, by your leave that shall be better told 
 When all is done.
 
 ACT IV. SCENE II. 63 
 
 [The Knights give way, and ARTHUR stands 
 alone with loiuered helm. 
 Mord. See, madam, where he stands, 
 
 Thy champion, who must needs have come from far 
 To answer in such cause. 
 
 [Guinevere kneels at Arthur's /^^/. 
 Gnin. I thank thee, sir ; 
 
 Yet now I do repent me of what's done. 
 And fain Vv-ould 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. 
 Guin. [To Arthur.] Thou wilt not t Then I'll ask 
 this much of thee : 
 When death 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. 
 Mord. Go, lead her hence. 
 
 Agra. So God defend our King. 
 
 l^Exit Guinevere, followed by Agra- 
 VAINE and Knights. Mordred turns 
 to Arthur, ivho remains 7notionless, 
 Morgan watching him intently from 
 the steps of the throne. SiR Bedevere 
 stands by Arthur. 
 Mord. And now I'm thine : yet first, by Heaven, 
 I'll know 
 The face beneath that mask.
 
 64 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 ArtJi. 'Twas kept for thee. 
 
 \As he lifts Jus helm MoRDRED starts back. 
 
 Mord. The King. 
 
 Aj'th. Ay, sir, the King, who but to win 
 
 This Httle hour from out 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. 
 
 Mord. Prate on, I fear thee not. 
 
 Morg. Thou hast forgot the message of the May ; 
 Then hear it now. 
 
 Arth. Enough ; 'twas thou, false witch, 
 
 That stole the scabbard of Excalibur ! 
 Yet see, the blade remains whose every stroke 
 Is winged by Death. 
 
 Morg. 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 ! 
 
 Aj'th. Why then the end is here : set on. Sir Knight, 
 
 Death stands betwixt us twain, and Death shall 
 
 choose. {They fig J it and Arthur is zvonnded. 
 
 Traitor, that blow ends all. {He falls to the earth. 
 
 Morg. Long live the King ! 
 
 [ The trumpet is heard zuithout. 
 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 erics from 
 without. 
 Voices. { Witho2it.] Long live the King ! 
 Arth. Nay, sirs, 'tis not for long. 
 
 I'm dying, Bedevere. Where is my sword ?
 
 ACT IV. SCENE II. 65 
 
 Bed. There, in thy hand. 
 
 Art/i. Poor hand, that knew it not. 
 
 Go quickly, Bedevere, and bear it hence 
 Unto that Httle bay hid in the cHft' 
 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, 
 Bearincf across the world from end to end 
 One cry to all, " Our sword is in the sea ! " 
 
 Bed. Why, then, 'tis done. 
 
 \^He takes sword, and goes off. 
 
 Arth. Life's tide is ebbing fast. 
 
 Gawaine enters hurriedly. 
 
 Gaiv. Nay, what is here } The wreck of all the 
 
 world ! 
 Arth. Peace, sir! I know thy news: the Queen is dead. 
 Gaw. Not so ; she lives, and thou art well avenged 
 By one who, dying, struck thy murderer down. 
 Arth. Didst know him, Gawaine? 
 Gaw. 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, 
 
 Arth. Nay, sir, his name 1 
 
 Gaw. His name, my lord, was Lancelot 
 Arth. Lancelot. Ah! 
 
 So life's long night is breaking at the last. 
 
 [Guinevere enters, zvhile the figure of 
 Merlin appears standing above the 
 recumbent form (^y ARTHUR. 
 Guin. Where is that knight who died that I might 
 
 live .'' 
 Gazv. Hush, lady ! he is here. 
 
 {She sees the face of ARTHUR and falls at 
 his feet. 
 Guin. My lord ! my lord ! 
 
 F
 
 66 KING ARTHUR. 
 
 ArtJi. Whose face was there ? I pray you, some 
 one say, 
 For all grows dark : I know not where I am. 
 Guin. Her name was Guinevere. 
 Arth. What, sirs ? why then, 
 
 This should be Cameliard. 
 
 [^Roiising himself zvith 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 Death'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. 
 Guin. He's gone, the light of all the world lies dead. 
 [ Tlie stage darkens^ leaving a light only on the 
 face of Merlin. 
 Mer. Not so ; he doth but pass 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.
 
 ACT IV. SCENE II. 
 
 67 
 
 And a voice from shore to shore 
 Cries, " Arise, and sleep no more ; 
 Greet the dawn, the night is o'er, 
 EnQ-land's sword is in the sea ! "
 
 CillSWICK I'KIiSS : — CHARLES WHimNGHAM AM) CO. 
 'J'OOKS COl'RT, CHANCERY I.ANE, LONDON.
 
 
 Date Due 
 
 
 MOV 16 196a 
 
 
 
 MOV 1 
 
 1963 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 

 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 602 337 8 
 
 mhh$2 
 
 C^K5 
 
 mlih^2 
 
 C5K$ 
 
 Carr, J.W.C, 
 
 TITLE 
 
 King Arthur, 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 BORROWER'S NAME 
 
 Carr, J.W.C. 
 King Arthur.