University of Virginia Library

Scene III

An orchard in moonlight
Mark and Marjodo enter stealthily. Marjodo climbs one of the apple-trees
Marjodo.
Sire, it is here we spy.

Mark.
Here that we watch.

Marjodo.
In moonlight
As clear as this? Sire, we shall be surprised.

Mark.
What could the moon look down on of so vile
As a king hiding stealthy in the dark?
It is the deadliest sin.
But whence that rain?
The flower-leaves of the orchard showering down
In moonlit bevies from each shaken branch? . . .

Marjodo.
Hist, hist! Climb quick!

Mark.
I am built deep in night,
And but in peril as the guilty are.
[Perceiving Iseult at a distance.
O sweet-paced steps!
I will learn of her why so guilelessly
She thrids the orchard. . . .

[Iseult starts, perceiving the shadows of Mark and Marjodo thrown by the moon behind them.
Iseult.
Holy Trinity,
Threefold of Love, protect me!

Mark.
She is moved,
Even as I; something she apprehends,
Yet simply and with prayer more confident
Than I have ever lifted to my God
Waits the event.

Marjodo.
Look yonder! (pointing to Tristan).


[Tristan perceives the shadows and stops: Iseult draws slightly back.
Mark.
Tristan! So I paused before
The mortal Venus when I saw her first.
I cannot see her: in his face I see . . .
Oh, push the boughs aside!

Tristan
(advancing).
How should I speak?

Iseult.
Speak not, there is no need.
Sir Tristan, I was come to chide with you.
O ghost, O misery, so wan thou art,
So haggard and unfriendly in thy motions,
Thou frightest me. How should I chide with death?

Tristan.
Chiding! Peace, peace!
I cannot suffer chiding 'twixt us twain.
Only receive my prayer—I have a prayer,
That you must make. . . . I would not curse my king,
For I am dying, for he is thy lord . . .
But pray him, thou,
Fair morning sun of thy fair mother's dawn,
Stricken of him to devastate the heavens,
And cast a thwarting light upon the earth,
Pray him have patience with me, give me leave
To tarry on my bed a little while:
I am too sick to journey. I should die
As unespied and secret as the birds
That leave a little voidness in the woods,
And have no funeral.

Iseult
(steadying herself against a tree-trunk).
Remember this,
Sir Tristan, it is I that banished you.
I am so jealous, I had slain Brangaena—
He praised her; and from me you take your death.

Tristan.
You will live on, trample the slander out.

Iseult
(turning resolutely away).
I shall live on and very slowly die.

[She disappears.
Tristan
(treading on Mark's shadow).
Would I were dead or he!

[Exit.
Mark.
Go hence, Marjodo;
Deceiver, hence, before my tears are hot
As Iceland's fountains.

Marjodo.
If I were mistaken . . .

Mark.
Go hence, Marjodo. Leave me!
[Exit Marjodo.
O my God,
I am no more Thy hermit, if my wife
Is jealous of me; and for me she lets
That lovely knighthood fall into the dust.
She is gone back alone to her lone bed,
Her tears, her jealousy.
O Moon, you saw,
You saw that she was chaste; but better far,
Dearer, of more account, in accusation
Confounding me, and yet more infinite
In solace to my heart—that she is jealous!