ARTHUR, MORDRED, DAGONET and Nobles.
Enter the Queen in great trouble. Enter SIR MADOR and Knights, bringing in a dead body and crying, “Treason! Treason!” The Queen takes her state.
AR. Who would accuse the Queen?
SIR M. 'Tis I, my liege.
AR. What be the substance of thine accusation?
SIR M. Murder, sire! murder most foul and treacherous!
Other Knights. Yea, murder most foul and treacherous!
AR. On whom?
SIR M. On the body of this knight, my brother, Sir Patrise, whom thou knowest to have been a courteous knight of much steadfastness to thee and the Court.
AR. It is most strange. Relate the circumstances.
SIR M. 'Twas at the banquet, Sir King, where we all invited of thy Queen, the Madam Guinevere, who sitteth there, and after meat, she, with much courtesy of seeming, did press on us to partake of some fruit, the which on partaking of, my brother, this dead knight, did fall in agony so extreme and mortal that his soul went out, and now he lieth as thou seest him.
Other Knights. Yea, 'tis true, 'tis as he saith, a most foul and damnable murder.
AR. (turns to the Queen) Madam, what sayest thou to this accusation?
GUIN. 'Tis a false, foul lie. I am innocent of this deed.
DAG. (aside) Yea, 'tis true!
AR. Thou seest this dead knight here, and these witnesses. As I am King I must see justice, even against thee. Hast thou no other defence to offer?
GUIN. Nay, my lord, as I am the Queen, 'tis a most damnable lie. 'Fore Heaven, I am innocent of this strange murder.
DAG. (aside) Now is my soul in flames!
SIR M. According to our ancient laws, when a guest dies in this most suspicious manner, where proof of grievous intent is present, the accused is condemned to be burnt at the stake.
GUIN. Great Heaven!
AR. 'Tis a foul punishment.
SIR M. But for a foul crime.
Other Knights. Yea, 'tis but justice.
AR. There is also a trial.
MOR. Yea, sire, the accused, being a woman, must have a knight to prove her innocence by his body on the body of the accuser ere the time of d**h be accomplished.
AR. Then be it so. The law must follow on the weight of these many witnesses. (turning to the Queen) Guinevere, Queen of Britain, I believe thee guiltless of the crime whereof thou art accused, as thou hast said. As King, I am not free to prove thine innocence with my body, but, as the King, unless thou procurest a knight to a**oil thee ere the time appointed, I here condemn thee to be taken hence to a place of public note and there be burnt to d**h, as the law requireth.
GUIN. O great Heaven! [Falls in a swoon.
AR. Sir knight, art thou satisfied?
SIR M. Yea, on my body.
AR. Then clear the Court. [Exeunt Knights.
Madam, this is the heaviest hour of all my life.
GUIN. (supported by her ladies) Yea, my lord, thou wilt save me?
AR. That I will, in all justice. Ho, there, without!
Enter a Page.
Bring me Sir Hake on the instant! [Exit Page.
Enter SIR HAKE.
AR. I command that this stern sentence on the body of the noble Queen be proclaimed widely, and that messengers be sent, on pain of d**h, to find Sir Gwaine and Sir Launcelot, that if they be not procured here within the present month, the messengers pay the penalty with their bodies.
SIR H. Yea, Sire, it shall be done. [Exit.
AR. And thou, my Queen, retire to your apartments; I will come shortly to you. Keep up thy heart; as thou art innocent so will Heaven help thee.
GUIN. Yea, my lord, thou wilt save me, as I am innocent. [Exeunt GUINEVERE and her ladies.
AR. Ho, page, bring wine. (aside) I would forget my sorrow.
Bring wine, I say, and send me hither my fool! [Exit Page.
Enter DAGONET.
AR. Fool, I would forget my heaviness. Make me merry.
DAG. (aside) O God! (to the King) Yea, sire, what wouldst thou have?
AR. Some music.
DAG. Yea, sire. (sings)
Blue is the summer morning's sky,
And birds are glad and merry;
And Anna's eyes are sweet and sly,
Her cheeks like any cherry;
Her lips like dewy rosebuds are
Upon the gladsome morning.
She is my love, my heart's glad star,
In spite of all her scorning.
So fill the cup of gladness up,
And drink to youth and morning;
Let sadness go with evening sup,
I'm hers for all her scorning.
AR. Would I had thy merry heart, fool.
DAG. Yea, sire.
CURTAIN.