 | Launcelot and Guenevere |  |
ACT II.
Scene. The top of a hill, north of Rome and west of the Tiber. Over the brink of the hill, a view of the valley of the Tiber with Rome in the distance. King Arthur, Launcelot, Lionel, Ector, and Dinadan, on horseback, attended by two Squires. King Arthur and Launcelot, a little apart from the others, converse, looking off at the city.Arthur.
So order it.
Launcelot.
Lionel, get you back
To the main army. Order Galahault
To move his forces southward and encamp
Before Janiculum. His function there
Is by activity, assault, bravado,
To keep the enemy's eyes on him—and therefore
Away from us. The main part of the forces
Do you yourself bring forward; pitch their tents
Here to the west, so ordered that they seem
Following on Galahault's trail. You, Ector, haste
To join the advance, which must be on our heels,
And lead them hither. We shall occupy
This hill and the approach. The King and I
You will remain; we may have need of you.
[Exeunt Lionel and Ector. Launcelot and Dinadan dismount and their horses are led off by a Squire. The other Squire approaches Arthur, still looking at the city, and after he too has dismounted, leads his horse away after the others.]
Arthur.
If Galahault can hold the foe in action
Before Janiculum, it will be easy
To cross our forces to the eastern bank
Almost without resistance. In great part,
Their legions have already fallen back.
Launcelot.
But yet they still are in great numbers there
Between the Tiber and the Flaminian Gate.
Dinadan.
That's the first Roman standard I have seen
In Italy. Our progress from the Rhone
Has been a Maying rather than a war.
Arthur.
'T was no such holidaying at the start.
You were in Britain at the worst. The war
Was six months old before you reached the camp.
Dinadan.
Not by my fault, my lord.
Arthur.
I said not so.
But thus it happened that you have not seen
How these same Romans fight. Six months they held us
North of the Loire. But our last victories
(Wherein you played your part, Sir Dinadan),
That had so long resisted. Their great army
Crumbled to pieces like a fog. Perforce,
They must fall back on Rome, renew themselves,
And leave our march unhindered.
Dinadan.
I am glad
You sent for me no sooner. I confess
This is the kind of war that pleases me.
Arthur.
Oh, no more ease; there are the walls of Rome.
It will be bloody work before we take them.
You shall be in the front.
Dinadan.
The devil I will! ...
Why must you send for me and not for Tristram
To bring your reinforcements? I was content
At Camelot ... and no great gain, besides;
While Tristram! ... after Launcelot the best
Among your knights! ...
Arthur.
Therefore he is in Britain.
Were all my bravest here, it would invite
Revolt among the unreconciled at home.
Especially I trust not Mark of Cornwall.
Dinadan.
Lucky Tristram! Would I might change lots with him ...
Yseult and all!
Arthur.
What's Yseult?
Dinadan.
Not heard yet
Of Yseult, Irish Yseult, Yseult the Fair,
And what men say of Tristram and of her?
I have heard the King of Ireland has a daughter,
Whose beauty some have praised with Guenevere's;
But not a word of Tristram.
Dinadan
(to Launcelot).
My lord the King
Takes little heed of such light things as these;
But you have heard the tale.
Launcelot.
I have heard nothing.
Dinadan.
Why, you poor exiles! All Britain whispers of it,
And Ireland too. It is the latest secret
That everybody keeps. Has not the rumor
Yet reached the camp? It fell upon this wise
—Or so the story goes—King Mark of Cornwall,
Although Sir Tristram is his sister's son,
Hates him that, having done you homage, sire,
And sworn to keep the faith of the Round Table,
He would not join him in his late revolt.
Casting about what way to do him ill
And 'scape your wrath, no sooner were you gone,
Than Mark sends Tristram into Ireland (where
The very hounds were hungry for revenge
On him that slew their masters) to demand
In Mark's behalf the Princess Yseult's hand.
Arthur.
The treacherous coward!
Dinadan.
The plot failed; for Tristram
Came in the nick of time to save the king
From something,—I forget just what it was—
But anyhow, all enmity wiped out,
Feasted him like a prince and sent him back
To Cornwall rich with gifts; and Yseult with him,
To be the Queen of Cornwall and Mark's wife.
Arthur.
Too vile a traitor to be so rewarded!
Dinadan.
Well, as for that ... wait till you hear the end. ...
Perhaps he was rewarded. This is what
They say; that the Queen Mother brewed a drink
Of such enchantment that whoever drank it
Should from that moment sink so deep in love
Drowning is nothing to it. This she did
That Yseult and King Mark might drink together
And no division ever sunder them;
Then gave the cup to Yseult's handmaiden
Brangwain, to give them on their wedding night.
But Yseult knew not of it; so it came
That as they sailed toward Cornwall, on a day,
Tristram being hot and thirsty, Yseult sought
A draught for him and found Brangwain asleep
And the cup by her; and they two drank thereof
And straightway loved each other.
Arthur.
Think you it true?
Dinadan.
Why, for the potion, be that as it may.
I hold it likely Tristram drank some wine,
And not unlikely that he kissed the lady;
And all, perhaps, without the devil's help.
Arthur.
Fair fall their loves; he is a worthy knight.
(aside).
What, Arthur!
Dinadan.
On the wedding night, they say,
Yseult would have no lights, for modesty;
And in the dark Brangwain went to King Mark,
And Yseult—did not miss him.
Launcelot.
Oh, oh, oh!
Arthur
(leaving Dinadan and going over to Launcelot).
Launcelot ... Now, fie, fie! Be merry, man.
The old rogue is well served. ... It troubles me
That you have grown so moody and apart
Of late. That ribald slander of Morgause
Against you and the Queen has poisoned all
The joy of life in you. Since then you are changed;
You smile not; and especially I note
That all light words of gallantry offend you.
Tut, let them flinch that have uneasy souls.
Launcelot.
They have grown senseless of the sting with use.
Arthur.
Were every flippant speech considered deeply,
Life would become unintermitting thorns. ...
Now as you love me!
Launcelot.
As I love you, Arthur,—
Dinadan.
My liege! Launcelot! Quick, to horse!
Look yonder!
The Romans!
Arthur.
Where? Away; we shall be taken.
Launcelot.
Why is not Ector here?
Away!
Dinadan.
To horse!
[Exeunt. Gallop without.]
Enter Dagonet, by another path.
Dagonet.
This is the place, but where are the knights? I was told when I came up with the army, that I should find Sir Launcelot on the crest of this hill. Well, here is the crest, and that's the nearest to knighthood I can see; the only devices here are those I am left to. I shall never dare be drunk, turn a handspring, woo a lass nor let my tongue wag o' Sundays, till I have delivered this letter. I might as well not be a Fool. This is the place, sure; yonder's Rome—the Eternal City. Well, well; now I have seen Rome. I suppose there are a great many about here could say the same thing. ... Ha! I don't know what a Roman soldier looks like, but I can guess near enough to run.
[Going.]
Enter Roman Soldiers.
Soldiers.
A prize! a prize! [Dagonet is taken.]
Enter Varro, Linus, and more Soldiers.
Varro
(speaking off).
Hold all the passes, and send forward scouts
To see how near the enemy approaches. ...
(To Linus.) These orders are to hold this place until
More troops are sent to join us. It would seem
As if the Emperor had changed his plan
And meant to cross the Tiber. ... What is this?
Linus.
A parrot, by his plumage.
Varro.
On my word,
What are you, fellow?
Dagonet.
Earth, air, water, and fire—according to the opinion of the most learned philosophers.
Varro.
What?
Dagonet.
Man, sir, is thus compounded.—Earth and water is mud; mud and fire is pottery; and what are we all but jugs, with a breath of life added?
Varro.
What are you babbling? Come, sirrah, a plain answer; who are you?
Dagonet.
One of the children of the wind. Our father blows whither he listeth, and we follow the trail of his patrins. But indeed, sir, to speak plainly, I am a juggler.
Varro.
Search him.
[Certain soldiers, under the supervision of Linus, search Dagonet. Varro goes about among the soldiers, giving directions. They begin to busy themselves with the routine of camp life; some pitching tents, some building a fire, etc. Exeunt some.]
Linus.
There is nothing suspicious about him, captain.
Varro.
His answers are. They are overmuch craft or overmuch folly.
Linus.
Tut, a poor innocent! His wits are not right. There is no harm in him.
Varro.
Perhaps not. Sirrah, you are a juggler, say you? In anything but words?
Why, that were the greatest jugglery of all; for the other but dazzles the eye, but this bewilders the mind itself. But in sooth I can twirl a plate upon occasion.
Varro.
If he be a juggler, he cannot be entirely fool. ... A little of your mystery.
Dagonet.
Stand back, all. Make a ring.
Soldiers.
A juggler! A juggler!
Dagonet.
Give me your purse.
(Varro hands his
purse to Dagonet, who puts it in his pocket.)
Thank
you.
(Suppressed laughter among the soldiers.)
Varro.
Call you that juggling?
Dagonet.
Oh, sir, we that are gentlemen of the
road must live as we may. Your bird of passage eats
in all orchards.
(Takes balls from his wallet and
juggles with them. The soldiers applaud.)
Pooh!
Nothing ... nothing! All in the air ... Your
knives, now ... Oh, they are not purses.
(Juggles
with knives. Applause, interrupted by a stir at the
back.)
Voices.
The Emperor! The Emperor!
Enter Lucius and Publius.
Varro.
Cæsar!
[Dagonet sees Publius with a start of recognition, and tries to get out of sight. Publius catches his eye and looks at him markedly. While this is taking place—]
Lucius.
Your legion lies as I would have it.
But have a care,—this post imports me much;
Forget your soldiership. The reinforcements
Will be sent on at dusk.
Dagonet.
Lord Publius!
Whew! I must have my wits about me now.
Publius.
Know you who yonder motley fellow is?
Varro.
A juggler and a common vagabond
By his account.
Publius.
How came he in the camp?
Varro.
He is a prisoner ... an alien,
Perhaps a Briton—it seemed wisest. ...
Publius.
Cæsar,
When I was your ambassador in Britain,
That fellow there, the Queen's Fool, Dagonet,
Spoiled more than one well-thought device of mine.
I do assure you, there is danger in him.
He is alert, agile of wit and limb,
Ready in unforeseen emergency,
Well fitted for a spy. ... Has he been searched?
Varro.
But now.
Linus.
Thoroughly, my lord.
Lucius.
Is this the man
Who so enragd you as we came this way?
Linus.
'T was he, my lord.
Lucius
(throwing aside his cloak).
Bid him come hither.
Publius.
Cæsar,
'T is like the searching was perfunctory:
There may be nothing; still—he's crafty—
Fool,
Here is Lord Publius, a Senator,
And sometime our ambassador in Britain,
Who says you are the Queen's Fool, and no juggler.
Dagonet.
Nay, that follows not; for he must have more dexterity than a juggler, who can play the fool for a woman and keep his place. But to tell the truth, I am but a gentleman juggler, a dilettante; I do it for the love of art and not professionally. That is to say, in a sort, I am but a juggler as one were to say of Cæsar, he is a lute player.
Lucius.
Thou saucy Fool, the craftiest musicians
In Rome have praised my skill.
Dagonet.
I warrant they have; they had little craft else. Well, I also am extolled; as you are excellent among lute players, so am I in this whim of mine. An it were not for our stations, they of the crafts should find us troublesome rivals.
Lucius.
Lord Publius says you should be searched again.
Dagonet.
I hide nothing but my heart. Let it be by women this time. And your soldiers are something rougher than necessary. I am limber enough in the joints, but a flail would protest to be twisted so.
Lucius.
Your Fool is an odd rogue; I like him, Publius.
Come let us see some of this boasted sleight.
Dagonet.
If I slip, you shall blame your thirsty-throated lubbers here, that took me for a pump and
[Turns a handspring; then, with articles borrowed from the soldiery, performs several feats of legerdemain. Suddenly he begins to turn wheels on his hands, charging directly on the soldiers, who make way for him laughing, scattering from before the fire, by which Dagonet is stopped. Alighting on his feet, he throws his cap in the air, catches it on the end of his bauble, and twirls it, throwing it up again and again until at last he misses it and it falls into the fire. He springs forward as if to snatch it out, starts back as if he had burned his fingers, makes a wry face, and then with a whoop turns a somersault backwards in the air. But Publius, who has been watching him closely, runs to the fire, and plucking the cap from the flames, tears open the lining and holds up the letter that was hidden there. Dagonet crest-fallen.]
Publius.
Said I not so? (Opens the letter.)
There's that within this letter
That is for Cæsar's ear alone.
Lucius.
Withdraw.
[Exeunt Varro, Linus and Soldiers.]
Publius.
Now this could not be better had we been
In Fortune's secrets. You remember, Cæsar,
When I came back to Rome from Arthur's court,
The love between them, and the dull King's blindness.
Here is the proof ... a letter of the Queen—
To Launcelot—this Fool the messenger. ...
Listen. (Reads.)
I have born you a son. ...
Were I to tell you what wondrous intimations I have had concerning him, it would profit nothing; for the best is not to be fixed in words, nor even in thought. ...
He is named Galahad, and it is given out that he is the child of Ylen, the daughter of King Pelles. ...
I can no longer endure it to be apart from you. Therefore I have made an excuse of the King's victories and the lessening war, to set out to join the armies. It is known here that I start within the week; and I shall have crossed the sea into France before Dagonet gives this into your hands.
Till then, when I can say what I know not how I should write,—
Guenevere.
[About this time, Dagonet, who has been sitting apart, in great dejection, lifts up his head as if an idea had come to him, looks about the scene, and then begins to watch the others attentively.]
Lucius.
Coming to join their armies! These barbarians—
They take their women everywhere! ... Could we
But capture her! If but the half be true
These bragging Britons paragon her with,
She is one of those rare things that must be looked on;
I am still Cæsar. I have heard her so
Recounted that to her Faustina were
Indifferent fair; Hero but so so; and
Great Cleopatra left without a lure.
Helen herself and all Praxiteles
Could dream of Aphrodite were but hints
And guesses of her. If there be one such
And that one not be mine, why then indeed
The empire is o'erthrown and to be Cæsar
No longer master.
Publius.
Rome is not yet fallen;
But that it may not is our first concern.
See you not how this letter may be used
To split the enemy into factions?
Lucius.
Well;
You will be practical.
Publius.
If Arthur see
This letter—
Lucius.
There were some revenge in that.
Ho, ho! ho, ho! what quintessential torment
To see the picture of their stolen hours
Start up before his fancy!
Publius.
Here's the fact;
A bat could not be blind to 't. It must make
Irreparable feud between the King
And Launcelot; and half of Arthur's knights,
The fairer half, will hold with Launcelot.
The fate of Rome may hang upon this scroll.
Lucius.
No, Arthur will not cut off his right hand
While it still wields the sword for him; he will not
Break up his army in opposing camps
And fall to internecine bickerings,
Whate'er the cause, here, in an alien country,
And with the prize o' the world in controversy.
It is not generalship; and I have had reason
To know how good a general he is.
Publius.
He is too foolish honest for such policy.
Lucius.
He does not plan his campaigns like a fool.
I think he could make shift to endure this knowledge
Until the issue of the war is tried.
Then—doubtless ... but what good were that to us?
No ... listen ... this is rather what to do;
Let Launcelot, not Arthur, know the letter
Is in our hands. Then offer him the choice,—
To leave their armies and transfer his power
To ours, in which event (which would ensure
He shall be crowned and sceptred over Britain
In Arthur's place. If he refuse, the King
Shall have the letter. On the one hand shame,
The Queen a by-word—worse, their trysts, their kissings
Ended forever,—and his supreme knighthood
Cast out, without a country or a cause,
An alien and alone among the nations:
On the other hand, set high above all cavils,
With Guenevere for Queen—the man were fool
To hesitate. ...
Publius.
The name of traitor has
A terror in it ... to these warriors,
Whose only thoughts are actions.
Lucius.
That's a terror
That fronts him either way. We must stretch all
To intercept the journey of the Queen.
With Guenevere our prisoner we triple
Our power on Launcelot—without forgetting
I wish to see this beauty for myself ...
It may work ... it should work ... And this same Fool
Will be our—Where is he?
Publius.
What! Gone! What ho!
Enter Varro and soldiers.
Where is the Fool?
Varro.
We left him here.
Publius.
He's gone.
The Emperor here? One of the sentries said
He had passed by.
Lucius.
My cloak.
Publius.
Your cloak, Most Mighty?
Stolen? He has escaped. After him! Quick,
Send out—
Voices
(without).
To arms! to arms! to arms!
[The sky begins to redden with the sunset.]
Enter Linus, hurriedly.
Linus.
Captain!
The enemy are almost at our lines;
The scouts report them in great numbers on
The Cassian Way. I have called the men to arms.
Varro.
Upon us? Cæsar,—
Lucius.
Where are they that saw them?
Bring me to them.
[Exeunt all but Publius.
Voices
(without).
Fall in! fall in! fall in!
[Noises of preparation without; then silence.]
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger.
Where is the Emperor?
Publius.
Whence come you?
Messenger.
From Rome.
Couriers from Cinna's Hill bring word the foe
Are moving toward Janiculum. The cohorts
Would know if they are still to advance this way.
[Cries without, “Pendragon! Pendragon!” Alarums. Noise of fighting.]
Varro.
Where 's Cæsar? They outnumber us ten to one.
We cannot hold them long. The Emperor
Must be in safety ere it is too late.
Flee he and you at once! I'll make a stand
If possible. If reinforcements come,
All 's not lost yet.
[Exit. Noises of combat.]
Enter Lucius.
Publius.
The place cannot be held.
Away, my lord!
Lucius.
Peace! ... Ho! a courier!
Messenger.
Most Mighty!
Publius.
One that comes in haste from Rome.
Lucius.
Then get you back to Rome and bid the cohorts
Without the Flaminian Gate hither at once ...
Go!
[Exit Messenger.]
Publius.
Flee, save yourself, Cæsar—
Lucius.
Peace, I say!
[Cries without, “A Launcelot! a Launcelot!”]
Enter the Romans, fleeing, in great disorder.
Why do you run, you curs? Stand! Turn! Back, slaves!
You scum of Rome! you pigs! you—
Soldiers
(dispersedly)
Save yourselves! ...
[Lucius and Publius are swept away by the rush of the fugitives.]
Enter Britons, led by Ector. Then Launcelot, Bors, and Dinadan.
Ector.
Pendragon! On! Pendragon!
Launcelot.
On! Pursue them
As far's the bridge.
[Exeunt Ector and Britons.]
Bors.
They have but taken the pains
To pitch our tents and build our fire for us.
Dinadan.
And breathe us just sufficiently to taste
The supper we shall cook on 't with a relish.
Launcelot.
Bors, see you to the quartering of the troops
As they come up. Dinadan, follow Ector,
And, if he need more men, supply them to him.
[Exeunt Bors and Dinadan.]
Enter Dagonet. It begins to be twilight.
Dagonet.
My lord!
Launcelot.
Dagonet! ... What has happened? ...
Dagonet.
Kick me for a clod, a dolt, a duffer, a doodle! a lubberly, inept, clumsy, bungling dizzard and hobbledehoy! I am not capable of ...
Launcelot.
Plague on your prating! Set my mind at rest.
What tidings of the Queen?
There's nought ill there. The Queen is well, and the child she has borne—
Launcelot.
The child!
Dagonet.
Ay, sir, a boy—a real boy, with movable eyes. The Princess Ylen has understudied for the mother and will assume the part hereafter.
Launcelot.
My son!
Dagonet.
The women feign to find a marvellous resemblance to you in him; but for my part—a man's eyes have no skill in these mysteries—but I would have said your lordship had a more plentiful provision of nose and was—...
Launcelot.
Peace, Dagonet.
Dagonet.
Nay, you have not heard all yet. The Queen is coming.
Launcelot.
Coming? Hither?
Dagonet.
With all the speed she is able. I was to go before her and make her paths straight; but I got lost in the wilderness.
Launcelot.
Coming? But all you say is like a song;
You made me think you came with evil news.
Dagonet.
One word more, and my singing is all unmusicked—off the pitch, out o' the key; and you would liefer hear a charivari of tin pans and penny trumpets. What I have told you, you should have read, in the Queen's own hand, in a letter I was to deliver you. This morning, when I overtook the armies, Sir Bors sent me forward to this hill, saying
Launcelot.
A letter? Know you what was writ in it?
Dagonet.
Not the phrase; but I know that it spoke of her coming and of the child.
Launcelot.
The child ... Oh, my God!
Dagonet.
If you would run your sword through me, I should not much care; and if you would kick me, it would be a real kindness.
Launcelot.
We must get back the letter.
Enter Ector, Bors, and Dinadan. Afterwards, certain Soldiers with a haunch on a spit.
Here's Dagonet
Come to help us take Rome—No, do not laugh;
This is quite serious ... and what he undertakes,
More perilous than ought we soldiers do. ...
(To Soldiers.)
Go, use some other fire. We'd be alone here.
[Exeunt Soldiers.]
Dinadan.
Well, Dagonet, what are you going to do?
Set Rome on fire ... or the Tiber, which?
Launcelot.
Mask himself as a slave and enter Rome.
The King is lucky to have such a spy.
Dinadan, take him with you to your tent,
And see how well you can disfeature him.
Disfeature him? I'll so disfeature him
His bath-tub would n't know him.
Dagonet.
Come along, then. You may shave me as bald as a Greek monk. You may dye me black, yellow, or striped. You may make anything of me, from Epictetus to a blackamoor. Only I bar mutes and eunuchs.
Dinadan.
A few slashes, with peppers in them ...
Dagonet.
Hold! ... Well, for the sake of the cause. A beggar will ulcerate himself for a penny, and my reward is glory.
Dinadan.
Then you will go to glory pickled.
Dagonet.
Why, then my glory will keep.
Dinadan.
Come on, Fool.
Dagonet.
After you, sir.
[Exeunt Dinadan and Dagonet.]
Launcelot.
Follow them, Ector, lest their frolic wits
Outrun the purpose with mere travesty. ...
[Exit Ector.]
Where is the King?
Bors.
Seeing the enemy
In no great force, and a mere skirmish forward
Wherein we must be victors, he turned back
To rejoin Lionel, and himself o'erlook
The dispositions made of the main forces.
Soldiers
(without, singing).
Then out, boys, and forage,
For a man can't fight on porridge
There 's no butcher to be paid,
And no game laws to evade
In the heart of the enemy's country.
Hi! hi! hi!
Bors.
I am not so wakeful as those fellows yonder;
I'll have a bite of supper and to bed.
Launcelot.
Good night, then, Bors.
Bors.
Good night.
[Exit Bors.
Launcelot.
Have all these men
No cankers in their hearts? Is it the great
Alone that suffer, that these simple folk
Are so light-hearted?
A Soldier
(without, singing).
Winsome as the wind,
Wilful as the wind!
Would I were in Camelot!
Fond as the doe,
Frolic as the snow—
Lucky is the lover's lot
Wins the lass of Camelot.
Sweet as the hills,
As the windy hills!
Would I were in Camelot! ...
Launcelot.
Yet to have a son!
That's worth an agony. ... Born of such a mother!—
How his achievements will keep life a joy!
The day he puts his armor on, unblazoned,
To see his helmet glittering in the sun!
Such pride in one's own deeds would spoil the deed;
A son's accomplishment is ours for triumph,
Not ours for selfward shame. To have a son!
Now could I almost join the soldiers there
And sing for mere o'erflowing.
Soldiers
(without, singing).
On with the King! On with the King!
Sword, flash, and battle-axe, swing!
Shout, “For the King!”
Cheer, “For the King!”
Strike—for the King!
Launcelot.
We are in the palm
Of Fate. The unremitting drift of things
Bears us we know not whither—to be engulfed,
Or by a random whim of chance swept on
To some haphazard safety ... all to nothing!
There seems not so much hope as would suffice
To make a weary swimmer struggle on,
No sail nor shore in sight. ... Yet I am calm, ...
Calm as the night ... as pure of doubt or dread
As if the sky had told me All is well.
It is strange. ... And she is coming! Fill her sails
With nimble wafture, wind—but gently, too,
As now you touch my forehead. Glide away
Beneath her wheels like running water, roads,
And speed her hither in a dream. ... Coming! ...
What a still joy is in the air to-night!
Might hear each other across the silent leagues. ...
Have your will, Fate: not on us is its might.
[Pauses, and stands silently, in the light of the fire, with his cloak wrapped about him, looking out over the valley.]
Soldiers
(without, singing).
There 's Meg and there's Molly
And there's Susan and there's Polly;
And we'll all be jolly
When we're home from the wars
Curtain.
| Launcelot and Guenevere | |