University of Virginia Library

Scene III

A wild slope covered with brambles, under the walls of Arundel Castle
Tristan and Kahedin are walking together: suddenly Tristan sits down on the root of a beech-tree.
Tristan.
You strive,
And follow me about, and cannot open
This secret that is guilt: I know your trouble:
She that you love is wedded.

Kahedin.
She is mine,
As your Iseult is yours.

Tristan.
Yea, for all ages
Iseult is Tristan's. . . . I will keep you guarded
To night with naked sword.

Kahedin.
How prompt you are,
How merciful. . . . But, Tristan, think—the peril!
[Looking at him uneasily.
You are not going to your doom?

Tristan.
. . . So surely
Love crumbles all things, it must come to pass.

Kahedin.
You know this love? What must be told of it?

Tristan
(looking out over the country).
That it must come to pass,
And that it crumbles all things, even itself,
Even its own desires.

Kahedin.
Tristan, my brother!

Tristan
(rising quickly).
For this adventure.

[Kahedin perceives his sister straying among the clumps of covert.
Kahedin.
I have told her all.

[He goes out as Tristan advances towards Iseult of Arundel.
Tristan.
What are you doing?

Iseult of Arundel.
Gathering blackberries.

Tristan.
You shall not. They will stain your hands—white hands,
These whitest hands.

[He takes her hands, kisses and fondles them. She stops picking the berries.
Iseult of Arundel.
My lord, your will to me
Is sweeter than the taste of any fruit,
And it is all I have—your will, your pleasure.

Tristan.
Pleasure of mine!

Iseult of Arundel.
Were there compassion in you,
If you could feel—

Tristan.
What can I do for you,
Nor break my vow?

Iseult of Arundel.
Sing to me, as you sang, sing of Iseult.
[Tristan moves away, she follows.
For if I may not pluck the fruit,
And may not catch your music for my harp,
Nor open up my grief . . . a little help me!
Help me a little! Twenty times a day
You would pick up my missal, bind me flowers,
Put by a tress of my hair. Is that forbidden?
Then, on my knees, I supplicate, companion
My hours with something of your thought.

Tristan.
I journey . . .
And, listen, I adventure life and limb
To night that Kahedin, our best beloved,
Should rescue or embrace
The lady who so long has wasted for him,
Who now is wasting. Pray for Kahedin.

Iseult of Arundel
(with anger).
For you!

Tristan.
No, I am damned. Open your thoughts
To Kahedin. . . .
Take as your sister, if she needs a refuge,
The lady that he loves. Open your thoughts.
[Looking back at her defiantly.
Can you not pray—not with these cursed, white hands?

Iseult of Arundel.
My hands—I plunge them in the blackberries:
I will not stain them with a harlot's touch.

Tristan
(more defiantly—singing).
Is that the song, Iseult?

[Exit.