SCENE II.--_The Kentish Coast. Landing of_ ARTHUR’S _troops opposed

by_ MORDRED. _Battle going on in the distance. Enter_ GWAINE _borne ashore on a litter. Battle comes near._

_A Soldier._ They come this way, here will we stand and guard thee. (_They put down the litter._)

_Gwaine._ How goes the fight?

_A Squire._ Desperate hard. The enemy be strong, As if half England would shove the other i’ the sea.

_Gwaine._ Give me my sword, and help me up, I’ll fight.

_A Leech._ Sir Knight, if you rise up it is your death.

_Gwaine._ Damn thee, to lie here helpless is to die, With those fierce sounds of battle in mine ears. Quick! my sword! mine old strength cometh back.

(_A_ Squire _hands him his sword, he leaps to his feet. The battle comes near and they are all borne out fighting. Re-enter_ GWAINE _borne by_ Soldiers _and the_ Leech.)

_Leech._ I told thee thou wouldst die.

_Gwaine._ And so wilt thou some day, and like a milksop, i’ thy bed. ’Twas a poor prophesy though a sure one. It is naught. Turn me over. Yea, I wedged some skulls, and clipped Damned Mordred’s wings o’ some pen-feathers.

_Enter_ ARTHUR.

_Arthur._ So far the battle’s ours, this edge at least Of Britain’s soil doth Arthur own to-night. What be this?

_Gwaine._ ’Tis Gwaine, King, brought to bay at last.

_Arthur._ Thou wert mad to fight.

_Gwaine._ ’Twas madness not to fight with all that battle Ringing its clarion thunders in mine ears. All life be madness and death but the healing of it. I have reft some brain-pans, i’ my time, ha! ha! Tell traitor Launcelot.--Yea turn me softly, ’Twas a deft hand did give me that last stroke.

_Leech._ What be thy message knight, thy time groweth short?

_Gwaine._ Yea, take away,--tell Launcelot, Gwaine’s vengeance waits him i’ the nether black. (_Dies._)

[_Curtain._