[Pg 32]

That plays—who knows?—for kinship. Guenevere,

This poison that he brews and breathes abroad

Is but to start dissension round the King

And split the realm in two. But that my Queen

Should suffer torture for his use! The traitor!

If this impalpable fog could take a shape,

A body—there before me—a throat to strangle,

A breast to strike at and to kill!

Guenevere

Guenevere

Ah, now

I have a shield and a sword—what care I now

For the world’s evil tongues? You are come back,

And spring is in the sky. Is it not sweet

To taste and feel? The blue sky, the warm air,

Trembling among the young leaves. Now I feel

As when we went a-Maying in the woods

Together and alone. Pluck me a flower.

There at the window one peeps in.

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