University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—Camelot. Gallery and portico in the apartments of the Queen of Orkney, overlooking a great water. Lionors and Borre.
Borre.
Mamma,
I like to talk to you about Gawaine.

Lionors.
Why, darling?

Borre.
Because you hold me close to you,
And kiss me so.

Lionors.
My little innocent wisdom!

Borre.
Gawaine never kisses me. And yet he is kind;
He gives me sweets and—Oh, mamma, look! look!
The moon—how big it is! It comes right up,
Right up out of the mere, just like Gawaine
When he is swimming. You know, he plunges under
And then his head comes up 'way over yonder,
And then he shakes the drops out of his hair
And wipes his eyes with his fingers. The moon is bald
Like poor old Hugh the gardener. That's why
The water doesn't stick to it.

Lionors
[kissing him].
Sweetheart! See
How still the moonlight lies upon the water!

Borre.
It's like a silver road.

Lionors.
How would you like
For you and me to go out hand in hand
As we do i' the meadows, and pluck those flowers
That grow on the waves by moonlight, and so go on
And on and on until we came to Fairyland?

Borre.
I'm 'fraid we'd get our feet wet.

Lionors.
I'm afraid we might.

Borre.
But what's a road for, if you mayn't walk on it?
Mamma, I don't think it's a road at all;
It's a river.

Lionors.
A river, love?

Borre.
A river of shine;
The fairies go swimming in 't.

[Enter Peredure.]
Lionors.
Good even, sir.
The Queen of Orkney is engaged within.
So please you wait with me a little while,
She'll see you presently.

Peredure.
I will remain;
You are very gracious.—Well, my little dreamer!
What are you thinking of, with your great brown eyes
Looking so wistfully on the mere? Come, kiss me.
What do you see out there?

Borre.
My lord, who lives
I' the sea?

Peredure.
Why, the fishes, Borre.

Borre.
And the old crabs
With their great ugly claws—I know. But I think
A princess lives there in a crystal palace,
All white and cool, with crabs to guard the gates.
That's why their arms are so long, you know—to catch
The robbers with.

Peredure.
Are there robbers in the sea?

Borre.
Oh, yes! that's such a pretty story. Mamma,
Tell it to him—you know, the one you told
Last night—about the water-kelpies that tried
To steal the princess' treasure.

Lionors.
Some other time,
Sweetheart.

Borre.
Oh, please, mamma, please tell it!

Lionors.
Not
To-night, dear. It grows late, and it is time
For little folk to be abed. Come, Borre,
We'll go find nurse.—Excuse me, pray, my lord;
I will return soon.

Borre.
I don't want to go;
I am not sleepy.

Peredure.
Let me carry him.
Wouldn't you like a ride upon my shoulder?
That's it. Now we go. Lead on, my lady.

Borre.
Hey!

[Exeunt Lionors, Peredure, and Borre.]
[Enter Morgause and Publius.]
Publius.
If it be true, as you suspect—

Morgause.
No fear!
You are very wise and subtle, good my lord,
But trust a woman's wit as subtler still
Where woman's heart's at question. You were there;
Your eyes were fixed, as all eyes, on the Queen;
Yet you nor no man there saw what I saw.
I tell you, when a woman's eyes are lit
With such a light as that I saw in hers
The while she gazed at Launcelot, 'tis small matter
Whether she flinch or falter to the world—
She loves.

Publius.
Well, let us grant, then, that she loves;
You women sometimes prove absurdly right,
And I incline to trust you. But the King
Will ask more solid proofs.

Morgause.
And he shall have them!
Ay, if I pull the ruin on myself,
I'll find the engines somewhere to upheave
The pillars of his peace. Oh, he doth vex me
Beyond endurance with that calm of his,
That silly satisfaction on his face,
As if he were some god, forsooth, and deigned
To live with men as a sun might deign to shine.

Publius.
Do not forget the most important thing,
That Launcelot must quarrel with the King;
For thence I see a great advantage grow
For Rome, and you will not forget, I hope,
That Cæsar's vantage wins for Arthur's ruin.
I do not ask you why you hate the King;
Work for my ends and I will work for yours.

Morgause.
Agreed. But we must cast our lines for proofs,—
And yonder comes an angle for my hook.
Withdraw, my lord; leave me alone with him.

Publius.
My humble duty, madam.

[Exit.]
[Enter Peredure.]
Morgause.
Peredure!
It is kind in you to come to me, my lord.
Sit by me here. I am sad to-night and know not
What 'tis oppresses me.

Peredure.
Would that I had
The power to shield off sorrow from you, madam!

Morgause.
Why, would you use it if you had, my lord?
A little thing might do it for the nonce,
But yet I fear me you would scruple.

Peredure.
Scruple?
I am no coward; I would die to serve you.

Morgause.
I know you are no coward, and I think
You are indeed my friend.—Too much of this!
You are a poet. Sing me a sweet song,
Whose music may caress my painèd heart.

Peredure.
Lend me your cithern, lady.

Morgause.
Who says now
That I am not the royalest queen alive,
That have a king's son for my troubadour?

Peredure
[sings].

Morgause.
You sigh, my lord. Did not the lady yield,
After so sweet a plaining in her ear?
... Methinks I had not been so obdurate.
To give unsought is sweetest to the giver.
Love such as yours, that asks no recompense,
Pleads for that reason more persuasively.
... Men love not often so—in Camelot.

Peredure.
The beautiful lady of my soul, for whom
My song was made, knows not my love for her.
The greatest happiness that I can hope
Is to sing for her, sitting at her feet,
As I do now at yours. I dare not vex
Her spirit with the story of my love,
Lest I should lose the little bliss I have
Nor gain no greater neither.

Morgause.
You are too fearful.
Who would not throw a bit of glass aside
To win a diamond? You cheat yourself
With the vain semblance of a love, my lord.
Be bold and snatch the real. Why, who knows
But that your lady pines to yield herself
As you to win her?

Peredure.
Oh, do not stir up
The devil in my soul! There is a chasm
Between our ways.

Morgause.
And will you let her droop
And die, poor lady, dreaming that her life
Is wasted ointment spilt out on the floor,
When but a word were Siloam to her eyes
To let her see she had poured a priceless chrism
Over the very body of Love? If she
Were I and spoke to you as I do now,
How would you answer her?

Peredure.
Upon my knees.
Forgive me, my beloved.

Morgause.
What do you mean?

Peredure.
That you indeed are she.

Morgause.
Alas, alas!
What must you think? Indeed I knew not this.

Peredure.
Oh, kill me with your hands, not with your grief.
Oh love, love, love, I ne'er had thus offended,
But all my brain was whirling with your words.

Morgause.
We are most fortunate and unfortunate.

Peredure.
And dost thou love, then, too?

Morgause.
I have loved thee long.—
Why do you tremble so? Surely it is
No sin that we should love.

Peredure.
Can that be sin
Which makes me greater-hearted than before?

Morgause.
Why do you stand apart? Let me lean on you.—
Oh, take me in your strong arms, Peredure!
Surely it is no sin for us to kiss.

Peredure.
God help me, I scarce know where sin begins;
For I am caught up in a wind of passion
That sweeps me where it will.

[The tinkling of a lute without.]
Morgause
[starting].
It is not safe
For you to be found here so late. I hear
My women with their lutes. Nay, do not go—
Nay, but you must—but first one kiss, my love.—
Give me the key to your secret door. I'll come
To you; we shall be more secure than here.

Peredure.
Come quickly, then, or I shall scarce believe
But I have slept i' the moonlight and seen visions.
—Yet one more kiss, as sweet as the perfume
Of sandal burning in a darkened room!
I am drunk with this new joy.

Morgause.
Within two hours.

Peredure.
I live not till you come.

Morgause.
Oh, leave me, leave me!
You will be found. Farewell!

Peredure.
Love, love!

[Exit.]
Morgause.
This key
Shall unlock more secrets than a secret door.

[Ladinas climbs up from below with a lute. The scene closes.]