Where was this? LAUNCELOT In the thick woods over Astolat. ARTHUR You fled me, Launcelot; and scarcely were you gone, when came Ill-tidings, and I had sore need of you. You fled me: for what cause? LAUNCELOT I fled not you, my King, I fled not you-- Ask me no more. ARTHUR Let be then; Keep secret what you will. You are come back: I’ll probe no further. Is this wound well healed? LAUNCELOT There was a maid found me in that same forest, A maid well skilled in healing, and the daughter Of the old lord of Astolat. Elaine She is called: she won me back to life, and I Have brought with me her brother: he would serve His King, and he is worthy. Will it please you to receive him? ARTHUR Surely one Who comes with Launcelot, and so commended, Shall have his full of welcome. Bring him to us; For many of my knights, alas! are fallen, And youth amends our loss. (LAUNCELOT _brings forward_ LAVAINE, _who kneels_.) LAUNCELOT Lavaine, your King. ARTHUR Lavaine, be of our court and fellowship. And if you would be patterned, here is one To follow: have him for your heart’s ensample In loyalty, in love, in all that’s honour. [LAVAINE _bows and retires_. True stock. I thank you. Launcelot, we celebrate a joust to-morrow In honour of this victory we have won; And you must ride in it: for we were mourning That it should lack the star of all my knights. The Marshals wait me. But my Queen, no word? Welcome him, Guenevere. Give me your hand. (_Takes_ GUENEVERE’S _hand in his_.) Launcelot, it was you that long ago Saved my Queen for me, when proud Orkney’s King Had taken her, trapped and captive, to his tower. You brought her back to me: you saved her then. Have you forgotten? LAUNCELOT I remember it. GUENEVERE What need to call that old day back to us? ARTHUR Circumstance is a quicksand. If the day Fall on me ever when my Launcelot stands Not on my side---- LAUNCELOT Never shall that day dawn! My King, I say again those words I said When first I vowed my fealty. By that sword Which made me knight, I swear me to be true. I will devote my body to your cause, I will not fail you by my hand or heart While breath is in me; and if I fail, be this My adjuration and high oath fulfilled In curse and condemnation on my soul. ARTHUR So anchor faith in one another’s breast. (_Takes_ LAUNCELOT’S _hands_.) Guenevere, to these hands, these loyal hands, That never in my battle failed me yet, See, I commend you still. So, God be with you.