Ah, Launcelot, you have done me wrong enough---- LAUNCELOT And I repent it sorely. It is too true, Many of your best have spilt Life in this quarrel. Yet, that I did, I did but in defence Of your own Queen. ARTHUR My Queen whom you have taken, And by force held. LAUNCELOT From death and cruel shame I hold her and will hold her. GAWAINE He has said it! Why parley here? ARTHUR Back to your towers then! Go, Ere we set on. There is no ending here, And no amending save through judgment. LAUNCELOT First Listen! Remember, my lord Arthur, how I vowed Long ago, how I vowed, you smiling on, To be your Queen’s true servant all my days. Remember how it pleased her, and you too, To cherish and uphold me more than all And any of your knights; past my desert Indeed, and yet some love did I deserve, Who ever fought for you and for your Queen In many another quarrel than my own. Remember---- ARTHUR Speak no more. It’s now; not then. LAUNCELOT Yet one word more! Had Mordred and his crew Not set their miserable snare for me That night---- ARTHUR That night? LAUNCELOT You had been rid of me, Rid of this abjured, exiled Launcelot, And in a realm at peace. ARTHUR What mystery speaks In such a protestation, I know not. Your deeds have deafened us to that. LAUNCELOT My King, Even while those felons feasted on the death They plotted for me, out of hate for you, Even when their shameful cries were at the door, I had already made my hard farewell And everlasting absence from your Queen, Because of ill tongues, and because I knew Their worst plot was to part us, and to rend This realm of yours in twain. ARTHUR What avails words? You stole her. LAUNCELOT Saved her! Could I leave her then A prey to those fanged foxes? To the wrath They were so cunning with their stratagems To fire in you? I had vowed to be your Queen’s Unalterable knight and steadfast sword. Could I forswear her in her hour of danger? (ARTHUR, _moved, is silent_.) Speak! ARTHUR Yield her up. LAUNCELOT And she shall be unharmed? ARTHUR Justice must stand, and she abide by that. LAUNCELOT On the accusation of a miscreant Proved false as hell? Arraigned in such a cause? Never! ARTHUR Your own guilt, Launcelot, stands clear. GAWAINE Enough of words. To arms! LAUNCELOT