[Pg 28]

[Pg 28]

Unto this present glory of our love.

Thou wilt not leave me Launcelot, loveless lorn?

Laun. Aye, this be hell!

Guin. Aye, hell to me to be divorced from thee.

Laun. Thou art betrothed to our great lord high Arthur,

And I that Arthur’s trusted bosom friend.

And yet I’d kiss again thy honied lips,

Though Arthur’s shadow flaming stood between.

I’m not an Adam to be driven out

With flaming brand from thy sweet paradise.

I’d hold thee Guinevere in these mine arms,

Though on each side, asquare, a “shalt not” stood.

I’d fight ’gainst all, aye Arthur, mine old self.

Oh Guinevere, this love hath made me mad.

Oh were’t that all were changed in nature’s course.

That I were not myself but some rude shape.

That thou wert not so sweet to look upon,

But sour and crabbed and old for Arthur’s sake,

 Prev. P 53/290 next