ACT IV
THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.
SCENE I: – The Queen's prison 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. Who knocks without?
MESSENGER [without].One who bears a message for the Queen.
Gaoler opens door and admits the Messenger.
GAOLER. What saith Sir Modred? May she see her fool?
MESSENGER. Ay, I have brought him hither.
GAOLER. That will content her much; she hath cried often for her fool.
MESSENGER. Yet methinks she shall s** but poor entertainment from the fellow now: his wits are clean gone. And, faith, he is not like to smile again.
GAOLER. What mean you, sir?
MESSENGER. The news of Arthur's d**h 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?
MESSENGER. 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,
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.
GUINEVERE. 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 Queen, must needs be merciful
And break its wicker walls.
GAOLER [taking the bird]. I'll cage it now.
He goes towards the door, and she sees the Messenger.
GUINEVERE. Ah, sir, you're from the Court. Where is my fool,
Sir Dagonet? Is that denied me too?
'Twas not so much to ask.
MESSENGER. Madam, he's here,
And yet so changed I fear he will not know thee.
Opens door, and Dagonet enters.
GUINEVERE. That counts for naught. I scarce do know myself.
Come hither, Dagonet. Sirs, by your leave. [Gaoler and Messenger exeunt.
GUINEVERE. Dost thou not know thy Queen?
DAGONET. 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.
GUINEVERE. Whose grave?
DAGONET. I know not, for the stone was bare
And they did naught but weep.
GUINEVERE. 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 d**h stands forth to claim the harper's fee.
Enter Gaoler.
GAOLER. Make room, Sir Mordred comes.
Enter Mordred.
Exeunt Gaoler and Dagonet.
MORDRED. Great Queen, I bear thee news that sets thee free.
GUINEVERE. What news is that?
MORDRED. Thy lord, the King, is dead.
GUINEVERE. Dead! art thou sure? 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.
MORDRED. Truth, thou wert wrong to weep.
Dost thou not know 'twas Arthur's cruel will
That set thee in this prison?
GUINEVERE. Ay, I know,
That thou hast said 'twas so.
MORDRED. And so it is:
But now I've come to break these prison bars,
And so give back unto our desert world
Life's sweetest rose that hungers for the sun.
GUINEVERE. And who art thou whose new-found sovereignty
Rides o'er the King's decree?
MORDRED. I am thy King.
GUINEVERE. 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.
MORDRED. 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 d**h'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.
GUINEVERE. I thought till now
That I had suffered all; but here I see
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.
MORDRED. 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.
GUINEVERE. A wanton, not a Queen!
Who for this piece of gold thou call'st a crown
Would take thy murderer's kiss.
MORDRED. Nay, have a care!
My love lies near to hate.
GUINEVERE. I fear thy love;
Thy hate is naught.
MORDRED. Truth, thou shalt find it more
Than thou hast ever dreamed.
Shouts without, "Long live the King."
MORDRED. Dost hear that cry?
It is the echoing voice of England's knights,
Who hail me king.
GUINEVERE. And they were Arthur's knights?
MORDRED. 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 d**h's bride, or mine – thy choice is free.
GUINEVERE. Why then I choose to die. Yea, though my soul
Slipped down to Hell, Hell were a paradise
Whilst thou art here. [Exit Guinevere.
MORDRED. By Heaven, then thou shalt die!
Enter Morgan.
MORGAN. Ryons is trapped, and dying hath confessed
His treason and thine own.
MORDRED. Then Arthur lives,
And all is lost.
MORGAN. Nay, all is left to win;
This news is secret, and long ere 'tis known
Thy sword shall pierce his heart.
MORDRED. Or his sword mine.
MORGAN. 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.
Shouts "Long live King Mordred! d**h to Guinevere!" grow louder to the end.
Go, take thy crown,
And none shall dare to question what is done.
Or what remains to do. [Exit.
MORDRED. So Fate take all!
To halt were d**h, and that on-coming flood
Of Time's uplifted wave can hold no more. [Exit.
SCENE 2: – The Great Hall at Camelot. As the scene is disclosed the Hall is filled with armed Knights. Mordred is on the throne, accompanied by Morgan, and surrounded by the retinue of the court.
Guinevere stands before the throne. Mordred turns to her.
MORDRED. By England's knights in council thou dost stand
Condemned of treason 'gainst thy lord the King,
Whose d**h 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.
AGRAVAINE. We pray you hear her not.
GUINEVERE [turning with a look of scorn towards Mordred].
What still is left to say is not for thee!
MORDRED. Then let the sentence go. Queen Guinevere,
Daughter of Leodograunce of Cornwall,
Now hear thy judgment as the law decrees:
That first, despoilèd of thy royal robes,
Thou shalt be fastened to an iron stake
Until thy mortal body be consumed in fiery flames.
GUINEVERE. And saith the law no more?
MORDRED. 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.
GUINEVERE. And who is that?
MORDRED. 'Tis I who charge thee now.
GUINEVERE. 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 f*ggots 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 d**h,
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, who has descended from the throne, whispers aside.
MORDRED. Too late, my Queen! too late! What wouldst thou give
To win a king's kiss now? 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!
The trumpet sounds, and at the third call Sir Bedevere breaks through the throng and stands before Mordred.
BEDEVERE. Hold there, sir herald, hither comes a knight
To answer for the Queen.
MORDRED. Who is this knight?
BEDEVERE. Sir, by your leave that shall be better told
When all is done.
The Knights give way, and Arthur stands alone with lowered helm.
MORDRED. See, madam, where he stands,
Thy champion who must needs have come from far,
To answer in such cause.
Guinevere kneels at Arthur's feet.
GUINEVERE. I thank thee, sir,
Yet now I do repent me of what's done,
And fain would 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.
GUINEVERE [to Arthur]. Thou wilt not?
Then I'll ask this much of thee:
When d**h 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.
MORDRED. Go, lead her hence.
AGRAVAINE. So God defend our King.
Exit Guinevere, followed by Agravaine and Knights.
Mordred turns to Arthur, who remains motionless, Morgan watching him intently from the steps of the throne.Sir Bedevere stands by Arthur.
MORDRED. And now I'm thine: yet first, by Heaven, I'll know
The face beneath that mask.
ARTHUR. 'Twas kept for thee.
As he lifts his helm Mordred starts back.
MORDRED. The King.
ARTHUR. Ay, sir, the King, who but to win
This little hour from but 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.
MORDRED. Prate on, I fear thee not.
MORGAN. Thou hast forgot the message of the May;
Then hear it now.
ARTHUR. Enough; 'twas thou, false witch,
That stole the scabbard of Excalibur!
Yet see, the blade remains whose every stroke
Is winged by d**h.
MORGAN. 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!
ARTHUR. Why then the end is here: set on, Sir Knight,
d**h stands betwixt us twain, and d**h shall choose.
[They fight and Arthur is wounded.
Traitor, that blow ends all. [He falls to the earth.
MORGAN. Long live the King!
The trumpet is heard without.
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 cries from without.
Voices [without]. Long live the King!
ARTHUR. Nay, sirs, 'tis not for long.
I'm dying, Bedevere. Where is my sword?
BEDEVERE. There, in thy hand.
ARTHUR. Poor hand, that knew it not.
Go quickly, Bedevere, and bear it hence
Unto that little bay hid in the cliff,
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,
Bearing across the world from end to end
One cry to all, "Our sword is in the sea."
BEDEVERE. Why, then, 'tis done. [He takes sword, and goes off.
ARTHUR. Life's tide is ebbing fast.
Gawaine enters hurriedly.
GAWAINE. Nay, what is here? The wreck of all the world!
ARTHUR. Peace, sir, I know thy news; the Queen is dead.
GAWAINE. Not so; she lives, and thou art well avenged
By one who, dying, struck thy murderer down.
ARTHUR. Didst know him, Gawaine?
GAWAINE. 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.
ARTHUR. Nay, sir, his name?
GAWAINE. His name, my lord, was Lancelot.
ARTHUR. Lancelot. Ah!
So life's long night is breaking at the last.
Guinevere enters, while the figure of Merlin appears standing above the recumbent form of Arthur.
GUINEVERE. Where is that knight who died that I might live?
GAWAINE. Hush, lady! he is here.
She sees the face of Arthur and falls at his feet.
GUINEVERE. My lord! my lord!
ARTHUR. Whose face was there? I pray you, some one say,
For all grows dark: I know not where I am.
GUINEVERE. Her name was Guinevere.
ARTHUR. What, sirs? why then,
This should be Cameliard. [Rousing himself with 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 d**h'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.
GUINEVERE. He's gone, the light of all the world lies dead.
The stage darkens, leaving a light only on the face of Merlin.
MERLIN. Not so, he doth but pa** 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.
And a voice from shore to shore
Cries, "Arise, and sleep no more,
Greet the dawn, the night is o'er,
England's sword is in the sea."