University of Virginia Library

Scene III

Tintagel. King Mark's bridal chamber; it has darkened windows. The chime rings out three o'clock.
Voice of Mark.
Wine. . . .

Voice of Brangaena.
I will bid them bring the bridal-cup,
As is the custom.

Voice of Mark.
O warm voice, that settles
Down on my heart a dove! Iseult, I thank
Thy modesty that made our marriage-night
Dark as the gulf from which our lives were drawn.
Thou hast brought round me the abyss again,
And I am new created.
She is gone.
Iseult, Iseult,
Iseult! Where art thou? Only in thy arms,
Only against thy lips I dare descend
Unsealed infinitude. My own, come back!

Voice of Iseult.
But I am here.

Voice of Mark.
You vanished, and the marvel
Began of very darkness in eclipse.

Voice of Iseult.
The bridal-cup.

[Enter Tristan with torch and wine-cup. Iseult is seen, amid her golden hair, sitting by Mark, who has risen from his couch.
Mark.
My Tristan . . . but how ghostly,
And trembling! Ah, it is a new-wrought valour
That must reveal itself beneath the flambeau
Of awful Love. You quail. . . . May Heaven exalt you
One day secure beneath that noble sanction
That casts out fear. Tristan, those tides of blood,
That stain you like the wine-cup in your hand,
Will rush then undismayed.

Tristan
(to Iseult).
The goblet—drink!

Iseult.
Your nephew blunders. No, Sir Tristan.

Mark.
Dearest,
Your lips must touch the wine. Henceforth your beauty
Touches all acts and modes that had before
No gist, nor any matter.

Iseult.
Let me drink.
It is unseasoned wine?

Mark.
From Italy;
The Emperor's gift.

Iseult.
Pure vintage!
(She drinks.)
To my lord,
My husband.

[She passes the cup to him.
Mark.
O Iseult, to thee, to thee!
My soul's soul, O my bride!
Henceforth I shall approach you, think of you
With such devotion as I give my God;
You are the thing divine in all our earth
I love or ever can.

[He drinks.
Iseult.
Now, of your kindness,
Let me withdraw myself among my women.

Mark.
By the great Queen of Love, my queen can rule
Her time, her favour, everything.
Look, Tristan.
Our queen sweeps back a train of tresses: surely
They were not thus unbound a while ago.

Iseult.
I let them loose to hail you, when the torch-light
Should cover me, for I would be all golden
A queen's first morning.

Mark.
Child, thy voice is proud,
Imperious, not the voice that sank on me
But lately in the darkness, like a dove.
Iseult, thy beauty is so vehement,
I would the dark still hid it from my eyes:
They are too humble to receive it, seeing
Its prodigy.
A kiss for our first dawn!
What, cold as dawn? I shall believe the night
Glows with the hidden sun,
That chills at sunrise. There, Iseult, go forth
To thy own chamber, if thou wilt, and leave me!
The day I knew my crown was more familiar
To my belief than this of thy submission
Toward one who worships from so far away.

[She stumbles against the wine-cup he has thrown down.
Iseult.
The cup!
[She takes it up and laughs.
On board your ship I saw a woman
Take such a cup as this and throw it forth
To seas submerged beneath the sea.
(To Tristan.)
You saw it
Inclosed where none can stretch?

[Exit.
Mark
(to Tristan).
Am I not happy?
I am, I am!
[The King draws Tristan, who kneels, into his arms.
Beloved, how strange to think
You, in your youth, by mad adventure, won me
This eminence to have her as my wife.
My full, undreamed perfection thou didst dream
For me, so long austere and unimpassioned
I could not even imagine destiny
As you were bent to flush it on my years.
I cannot give you thanks—nay, but thanksgiving,
As if you were not mortal. O Beloved,
In this, that thou hast wrought no heaviness
Must fall on thee. Thou must not doubt my love,
Because I love so well the guest thou drewest
Beside my heart's fire. We are ever fast.
And if I have no child thou art my heir
[Tristan makes a rejecting movement.
To Cornwall and to Ireland.
Tristan—nay!
How have I hurt thee? Thou art jealous, see'st
Thy kingdoms put in danger by espousals
God grant may never injure thee? O Tristan,
My joy has privilege
That none should sorrow near it.

Tristan.
There have been
But you and I together . . . Mark, forgive!

Mark.
I cannot sing as you—I love all music;
And you have ever drawn to unison
My moods and your avouchment of my moods.
You know I love you, Tristan. Do not fail me,
Nor contravene your work.

Tristan
(freeing himself from Mark's arms).
How dare I ask you
To pardon? It is destined—my offence . . .
For all is harsh in this new intercourse;
And you have found I am o'er-taken jealous.
We were together, you and I; we trusted
The loyalty of every hour we breathed
That nothing was between us through all time.
Show me a little grace. . . . The twilight comes
That will be day: the torch is spent. . . . I weary.
Dismiss me from your presence!

Mark.
With no word
Of salutation from my only friend;
No kiss from my most-loved through many years?

Tristan
(with a cry).
Mark!

[He suddenly and coldly goes to take up the flambeau.
Mark.
Nay, but, Tristan, this is grave—most cruel,
Unjust; for you have changed my life, not I.
Yet it is changed. A mighty tide is setting
Against its common stream, of such invasion
And roll of flood, your doubt of me, your discord
Are swept as nothing to the wilderness
Of the thronged currents, with their scurf of speed,
As I have seen at efflux of the waters:
Even such predominance of change hath happened
Beyond the power of you, even you, to check.
Let in the day!
Your thoughts are strange, perverse.
Sleep! You will own me in your heart again.

Tristan.
God bless the king!

Mark.
O Tristan, leave me!

Tristan
(as if to himself, taking the torch).
Almost
Burnt out to ash—gone out.

Mark.
I will let in
The day. Go to your couch.

[The light of the torch drops.
Tristan.
The flame is dead.