"It needs no maxims drawn from Socrates
To tell me this is madness in my blood--"
_He pauses. She looks up inquiringly. Presently he goes on reading--_
"Nor does what wisdom I have learned from these
Serve to abate my most unreasoned mood.
What would I of you? What gift could you bring,
That to await you in the common street
Sets all my secret ecstasy a-wing
Into wild regions of sublime retreat?
And if you come, you will speak common words--"
_He stops, and flings the book across the room. She looks up_.
GUENEVERE. Don't you like it?
LANCELOT. (_gloomily_) Hell! That's too true.
GUENEVERE. Try something else.
LANCELOT. No--I can't read. (_Guenevere bends to her darning_.)
Shall I go?
GUENEVERE. No.
LANCELOT. Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?
GUENEVERE. Does talking to me make you suffer?
LANCELOT. Yes.
GUENEVERE. I'm sorry.
LANCELOT. Then let me go.
GUENEVERE. No. Sit there and talk to me, like a rational human being.
LANCELOT. I'm not a rational human being. I'm a fool. A crazy fool.
GUENEVERE. (_smiling at him_) I like crazy fools.
LANCELOT. (_desperately, rising as he speaks_) I am going to be
married.
GUENEVERE. (_in a mocking simulation of surprise_) What, again?
LANCELOT. Yes--again--and as soon as possible--to Vivien.
GUENEVERE. I congratulate you.
LANCELOT. I _love_ her.
GUENEVERE. Naturally.
LANCELOT. _She_ loves _me_.
GUENEVERE. I trust so.
LANCELOT. Then _why_ should I be at this moment aching to kiss _you_?
Tell me that?
GUENEVERE. (_looking at him calmly_) It does seem strange.
LANCELOT. It is absolutely insane! It's preposterous! It's
contradictory!
GUENEVERE. Are you quite sure it's all true?
LANCELOT. Yes! I'm sure that I never would commit the rashness of
matrimony again without being in love. Very much in love. And I'm
equally sure that I would not stand here and tell you what a fool I am
about you, if _that_ weren't true. Do you think I _want_ to be this
way? It's too ridiculous--I didn't want to tell you. I wanted to go.
You made me stay. Well, now you know what a blithering lunatic I am.
GUENEVERE. (_quietly_) It _is_ lunacy, isn't it?
LANCELOT. Is it?
GUENEVERE. Sheer lunacy. In love with one woman, and wanting to kiss
another. Disgraceful, in fact.
LANCELOT. I know what you think! You think I'm paying you an extremely
caddish compliment--or else--
GUENEVERE. (_earnestly, as she rises_) No, I don't think that at
all, Lancelot. I believe you when you say that about me. And I don't
imagine for one moment that you're not really in love with Vivien. I
know you are. I could pretend to myself that you weren't--just as
you've tried to pretend to yourself sometimes, that I'm not really in
love with Arthur. But you know I am--don't you?
LANCELOT. Yes. ...
GUENEVERE. Well, Lancelot, there are--two lunatics here. (_He stares
at her_.) It's almost funny. I don't know why I'm telling you. But--
LANCELOT. You--!
GUENEVERE. Yes. I want to kiss you, too.