What’s this mockery? What brought this maiden hither? DAMSEL Oh, most noble, Noble King Arthur, graciously hear me! Your servant, Launcelot, comes from Joyous Gard And prays to parley with his lord, the King. You see in me what gentle thoughts are his---- ARTHUR White and fair! What avails? GAWAINE A treacherous trick, To clothe his blackness white, and let it speak In virgin syllables of gentleness. ARTHUR Softly. How is it with the Queen? DAMSEL The Queen weeps. GAWAINE Send her to her lord again. (_Trumpet._) DAMSEL Sir Launcelot is here. [LAUNCELOT _and his knights appear. Exit_ DAMSEL. GAWAINE No parley, King, Let us out swords and make an end at once. ARTHUR Such embassy must have its honour. GAWAINE Nay. ARTHUR This is the royal office; Usurp not---- LAUNCELOT May I speak, my lords? ARTHUR Speak on! LAUNCELOT Fair lords, and you my own King---- GAWAINE Perjurer! LAUNCELOT I make no war on you, my King. Assure me With confirmation of your kingly oath That harm come not to her that is your Queen, And I restore her straightway and depart. ARTHUR Do you enjoin your terms upon your King? GAWAINE False once, false always! LAUNCELOT To my King I speak. Make me that promise. ARTHUR Justice asks her due. LAUNCELOT Never, my lord, shall the Queen stand this charge On testimony of that traitor Mordred. GAWAINE Yourself’s the traitor! We will take your towers And you shall cry his pardon on your knees. LAUNCELOT Knights, lords of Britain, you’ll not take my towers; And if I choose to come forth on the field Soon shall I make an end, and that you know. ARTHUR An end, an end! But God shall make the end. Bring all your boast of knights into the field, Set your array, and sound your trumpets; then The desolate seashores shall have renown And you dishonour! LAUNCELOT Ah, my lord Arthur, God defend that ever I should lift arms against my only King! ARTHUR Give me your enmity! We are met in storm And under angry heaven, but were these clouds Of imminent tempest rolled away, and light Before us endless on a path of peace, Our quarrel stretches to the world’s end still And sleeps but in the grave. You have done that Which time can never undo, never amend Or alter into kindness, nor can words That use old fondness reach their lodge again Within this heart. Strike, you shall find it iron. LAUNCELOT Say what you will, with you I cannot strive. ARTHUR