William Wilfred Campbell - Mordred: Act I, Scene 3 lyrics

ACT I. SCENE 3. PLACE—A room in the castle at Camelot. Enter DAGONET, the King's fool. DAG. Meseems this King is like an April week. But yestermorn he was all smiles and sun, And now he skulks and prowls and scowls and mopes, As though existence were a draggled pond In dirty weather. Enter VIVIEN. VIV. And thou, fool, but a wry toad on its edge. DAG. And thou the snake's head lifted in the sedge, Aye, sweet Vivien. VIV. Why snakest thou me, fool? Methought that thou favoredst me? DAG. Aye, so I do. Thou coilest round my heart, The sweetest, wisest serpent in this world. Thou charmest me with those dazzling eyes o' thine. And though the blessed bread were yet in mouth, I'd go to Hell to do a deed for thee. And yet thou art a snake, as well thou knowest. Is it not so, sweet Vivien? VIV. Canst thou be wise for once, my Dagonet? Yea, let me teach thee. DAG. What is it to be wise? VIV. To leave aside that mummer's lightsome talk, And show a front of silent dignity. DAG. Like the King? VIV. Aye, like the King. DAG. Then to be wise is to be like the King, To be a cup of summer wine to-day, Anon a dish of lonesome woe to-morrow. I love not much this wisdom thou dost teach, These high come-ups and downs they like me not. I am too much a fool to learn thy lesson. [Sings. And who'd be wise And full of sighs, And care and evil borrow; When to be a fool Is to go to school To Happy-go-luck-to-morrow? Who'd tread the road, And feel the goad, And bear the sweatsome burden; When loves are light, And paths are bright Of folly's pleasant guerdon? Sigh while we may, We cannot stay The sun, nor hold its shining; So joy the nonce, We live but once, And die for all our pining. Who'd be a king And wear a ring And age his youth with sorrow; When to be a fool Is to go to school To Happy-go-luck-to-morrow? VIV. Aye, Dagonet, thou art indeed a happy fool. Wilt thou show me how to make love? DAG. (kneels in mock humility) Sweet Vivien, I am thy knight. VIV. It is all thou canst say? DAG. What wouldst thou have more? VIV. Oh, lovers' talk. DAG. Thou meanest as lovers speak? VIV. Yea. DAG. After wedding or afore, sweet Vivien? VIV. Afore, of course, stupid fool. DAG. (folds his hands and recites solemnly) bu*ter frups and mumble rings, Whirligigs and winter-greens, Turnip-tops and other things, I love thee! Spindle-spouts and turtles' eggs, Mutton-chops and milk-stools' legs, Heigh ho! I love thee! VIV. And now thou art the fool in earnest. DAG. Yea, and the better lover. VIV. And what after the wedding, thou wise fool? DAG. What saith the pot to the egg that is boiled therein, The floor to the mop that hath scrubbed it, The rain to the moist earth, And the bird's nest to the empty shell? Learn, and thou shalt find it. VIV. And hadst thou never a lover's longing, fool? DAG. Yea, but I cured me. VIV. Wilt thou give me that receipt, Dagonet? DAG. I filled my mouth wi' honey, and my couch wi' prickles, And went asleep on't. [VIVIEN laughs and retires behind the curtain. DAG. Yea, woe is me, is me, poor Dagonet! I hate myself and yet I fain must smile And play the thistle-down and dandy-puff, The foolish froth at edge of flagonets; And all the while see me a tortured torrent Winding down in darks of its own sorrow. Yea, Dagonet, thou art too much the fool, Like the great King and all other fools, To be the thistle-down thou fain wouldst seem, For thou art also anchored by the heels To some sore, eating iron of thy desire. Enter KING ARTHUR. AR. Well, fool, what mummeries now? DAG. I be holding a black Friday service, Sir King. AR. And what sayest thou in thy supplications? DAG. I think on thee, Sir King, and I think on poor Dagonet, And I say, Lord have mercy upon us! AR. A pious wish, Sir Fool, but why pitiest thou me? DAG. For thy poverty, sire. AR. Why poverty, fool? DAG. Yea, King, thou hast a crown, thou hast wealth, And power and lands, and yet thou lackest The cheapest commodity i' the whole world. AR. And what be that, fool? DAG. (going out) Sunshine, Sir King, that be the cheapest commodity. Enter LAUNCELOT. LAUN. Sire! AR. Launcelot, sit here and let's forget That I am king and thou the greatest knight In this most mighty realm. Let us deem Me but the Arthur of old days, and thou The sunny Launcelot who was fain to shrive His sorrowful Arthur from his darker moods, And make a glow about the future's countenance. LAUN. Yea, King, but methought thou sentest for me with most urgent commands. AR. Yea, most urgent. LAUN. The knights and men-at-arms await below, And all the splendid cortège thou hast ordered, With retinue befitting thy commands. God's benison go with thee, great Arthur, This most auspicious day thou goest forth To meet the high and beauteous Guinevere, Thy chosen mate and queen of this fair realm. AR. I go not forth! LAUN. Thou goest not, and why? AR. Deem it not strange, my Launcelot, that I sit Here thus disconsolate my betrothal morn, Nor over-eager for to play the lover And, decked in splendor, go to meet the queen. Launcelot, thine Arthur hath a sorrow. Hast seen my son Mordred? LAUN. Yea, Arthur, I have seen this Mordred. Yea, my King, thou hast indeed a sorrow, And could thy Launcelot but help thee bear it! AR. What thinkest thou of this Mordred? Likest him not? LAUN. He is so strange, so small, so queer of limb, At first I marvelled, then I pitied, then— AR. Yea, and what? LAUN. I met his eyes, and straightway I forgot The manner of man he was, save that a soul Of wondrous scorn and mystery met mine; That froze the present, made the future dread, With strange forebodings. While I mused he pa**ed, But left that chill behind him in my blood. And yet he seemeth, sire, one to be pitied. AR. Yea, all but pity Arthur's son should claim. LAUN. 'Tis thy cross, Arthur, as a king thou'lt bear it. And we all seeing shall say our King, like Christ, Beareth his cross i' the sunlight, i' the shadow, And take pattern from thy greatness. AR. I bear it not, Launcelot, it beareth me Down into blacker depths, aye, and blacker. He cometh betwixt my spirit and the sun. Canst thou not help thy King? I seem like one Who walketh in dread dreams where all are shadows. LAUN. Take courage to thee, Arthur, it will off. Go in thy kingship's strength and meet thy queen. Her beauty and her kindliness will cure This thy distemper. AR. Nay, Launcelot, this is the very matter, As thou well knowest, she hath never seen me; And for the very reverence I bear her, A maiden princess, I would hold as snow In each thing that regardeth purity; By all the love that I would bear to her, I would not have her meet me in this mood, But I would have her meet her Arthur when In kingly grace he is himself a king. Yea, Launcelot, for this I sent for thee. 'Tis mine intent that I should tarry here And in the joustings cure me of this fit, While thou dost go forth in my place to bring The Princess Guinevere to Camelot. LAUN. Nay, sire, not I! Not Launcelot! AR. By thy love for Arthur, thou shalt do it, Whom else in all this kingdom wide but thee Could I send on a mission such as this? I honor all thy love in sending thee, The one true knight, the glory of my realm. In this, O Launcelot, thou canst help thy King, And show abroad the love that 'twixt us lies, Till men will say: “So much of love there lies Betwixt King Arthur and great Launcelot, That when the King stayed ill at Camelot He sent forth Launcelot to fetch the Queen.” And what more fitting messenger to send Than thee in all thy strong and splendid youth, The flower and sun of all my chivalry, Launcelot, the young and pure-in-heart. Thou wilt do this and crown thy love for me. LAUN. Nay, mine own Arthur, men will rather say: “Why stayed the King, unkingly, thus at home? And sent forth Launcelot to meet his bride?” Oh Arthur, by my love, go forth thyself. Rather thou sentest me sack a hundred cities Than do this deed that will un-king thee so. AR. Launcelot, I would rather die than go. LAUN. Yea, Arthur, I would rather die than go. AR. Launcelot, lovest thou thine Arthur? LAUN. Yea, Arthur, well thou knowest. AR. Wilt thou honor me as a king? LAUN. Yea, to the d**h. AR. Then the King commands that thou goest for the love thou bearest Arthur. LAUN. Yea, sire, I will. (aside) But all fears go with me. CURTAIN.