 | Isolt of Ireland |  |
ACT I
Scene I
A great hall in King Mark's castle. Low vaulted ceiling, roof supported on thick columns, with Celtic capitals formed of grotesque heads with quaintly interlaced beards, intertwined monsters, etc. In the middle of the R. wall an arched doorway leading to Isolt's apartments. In the L. wall, more towards the back of the stage, three great arches open upon a corridor. Between the springing of the R. and middle arch is an image of St. Germain of Cornwall, a hanging-lamp burning before it. Over the central arch hangs the banner of King Mark (a white horse argent upon a crimson ground). Over the door of Isolt's apartments, the banner of Ireland (a golden sunburst on a dark blue ground); over the door to the apartments of Isolt of Brittany, Tristram's banner (a golden lion rampant on a green ground). All the entrances are hung with rich curtains embroidered with Celtic patterns. On a dais against the wall, L., are two chairs of state with the arms of King Mark emblazoned on a shield on the wall above them.Time: Afternoon
Mario.
Well, sirs, what do you think now of this dotage
of King Mark?
Utred.
We have seen it with amazement.
Mario.
This Irish witch plays with him as if he were
her hooded falcon.
Hugh.
And Tristram, they say, wears her like a glove
on his hand.
Mario.
Oh, he is still the king's proxy!
Hoel.
But are these rumours true?
[Melot cracks a nut and laughs.
Mario.
Trust the fool to pick the kernel out of the nut.
Melot.
[Throwing away a nut.]
This should be the
King Mark of nuts. 'Tis a blind one!
Mario.
You see how Tristram flatters his uncle, fawning
the hand that slew his father—if old tales be true
Hoel.
If he held the king guilty of his father's death,
he would have avenged it openly. There is no baseness
in his nature. But who heeds this old wives'
gossip?
Mario.
Oh gossip is the crude gold of truth, which the,
monks alloy in their chronicles!
Hoel.
If Tristram be in fault, as you say, it is some
strange love-madness has fallen upon him.
Mario.
Love is but a toy! Can he still believe the
he plots no revenge, dreams no ambitious dreams?
Hoel.
He lives in fantasy, and plots nothing.
Hugh.
Yet he may be dangerous. There is wild blood
in him. His father was an unbaptised heathen when
the monks came in with King Mark, and the Druid
gods fled before the blessed Cross.
Hoel.
Well, sirs, it is you who brand King Mark with
the mark of Cain—not Sir Tristram.
Mario.
Oh, sir, I hold King Mark fully justified in anything
he may have done in the cause of true religion,
though he had slain a score of brothers, Christian or
Pagan. He stands assoiled of our Holy Church, and
we pledged to guard his saintly head from treachery.
Well, we have had a month of wanton revelry over
these two marriages, King Mark's and Tristram's.
Hugh.
But now the honeymoon begins to wane.
Mario.
Ay, if the king were as tired of Isolt of Ireland
as Tristram is of Isolt of Brittany. What should a
man do who sees his sister so neglected—his king so
betrayed?
Utred.
Put a sword in his tongue, and a tongue in his
sword.
Hoel.
Can he so deceive the king, and so abuse your
sister? Tristram!
Mario.
Why not, man? There is nothing so bad it
cannot be done in this world of unchastened flesh.
Tristram? This vainglorious maker of love-songs
loves Isolt, my sister, merely by the bond; Isolt the
and myself, too. I am as near in blood to the king
as this upstart—and his elder in arms to boot.
[To Melot.]
And now, my little cock-sparrow, what
news of that Irish sweetheart of thine?
Melot.
If no news be good news, it will not be so bad.
It is no news that Enna is the queen's woman,
therefore a woman, whoever makes an offer for her.
It is no news that you are a bigger fool than me;
for you would send a fool to woo a woman with
two empty hands.
[Holds up his hands.]
She may
come peeping here, to spy if the coast be clear for
her mistress, before you have time to grow much
wiser.
Mario.
[Giving him a necklace and armlet of pearls.]
Shut thy fist on these.
Melot.
Aha! The first pearls of wisdom you ever let
fall when I was by!
[Trumpet heard.
Mario.
The king's trumpet!
[Mariodoc and knights move up stage and are about to go out, when Melot sees Isolt of Brittany, who appears at the door of her apartment, R.
Melot.
[Plucking Mariodoc by the sleeve.]
Here comes
your sister, with salt water in her eyes.
[Mariodoc makes a sign to knights, who bow and exeunt at back. Melot skips up to Isolt of Brittany.
Melot.
Fair princess, I kiss your white hands! How
does your noble husband, Sir Tristram? There is
be still a knight-errant.
Is. of B.
Begone, fool! I am in no jesting mood.
[She sighs.
[Exit Melot.
Mario.
[As she approaches him.]
A month's bride, and
more full of sighs than a week's widow. It means—
what?
Is. of B.
I cannot tell.
Mario.
Tristram neglects you?
Is. of B.
He is always gentle and courteous—yet—
Mario.
He loves you not too well?
Is. of B.
He—I know not what to think.
Mario.
Think that your man has roving eyes.
Is. of B.
Roving eyes?
Mario.
Ay, and a roving heart behind them. There is
more than one Isolt in the world.
Is. of B.
No, no—not that! I'll not believe it!
[Flourish of trumpets heard.
Mario.
The king comes. If Tristram be in his train,
speak to him. Bid him take you from the court.
Is. of B.
Oh, if he would!
Mario.
I will draw the king away. Retire and watch.
[Exit Isolt of Brittany, L.
Enter from the corridor, King Mark, Tristram, king's page, knights and attendants.
King M.
[To page.]
Say to the queen that I would
speak with her.
Only my love can pay; and this thou hast.
In blood almost my son, thou art to me
More than to many a father many a son,
For thy desert is more; and those broad lands
Of Lyonesse, which I have given thee now
With my fair niece, Isolt of Brittany,
Count but thy patrimony.
Tris.
Oh, my dear uncle,
Your gracious goodness far outpays my worth!
King M.
Pay but thy worth, and all I have were thine!
For thou hast given me youth, youth in the heart
And youth's bold fires renewed in every vein.
Tris.
If I bear fruit, I am but a fruitful tree
Set in your orchard, yours with its increase.
Re-enter page with Brangwaine.
King M.
What now, Brangwaine?
Bran.
The queen, my lord, entreats you
To pardon her a while.
King M.
Why tarries she?
Bran.
[Smiling.]
To-day, Sir King, we find her hard to please,
Her tire-women have used their utmost art;
Yet naught contents her. Thrice within this hour
She has changed her robes and jewels—all's amiss.
King M.
[Good-humouredly.]
Then when she comes she should abash the sun.
She bids me say that when you take the air
Upon the bastion, she will wait you.
King M.
She shall be warned. Let her not fail me then.
[Exit Brangwaine R.
[King moves down stage followed by Mariodoc and knights. Tristram remains in the background absorbed in thought.
King M.
Well, sirs, how looks it for our sport to-night?
Utred.
O'er the sunk sun the clouds in lurid glow,
Menace a tempest from the Irish Sea.
Hoel.
The fishermen come scudding from the banks,
Following the sea-fowl, that with inland scream
Whiten the coast with wings, lured by the herring.
Mario.
Till the moon change the tempest holds aloof.
What if a capful gather in the clouds,
Enough to wrestle with the murmuring boughs
And scatter dancing moonlight thro' the woods?
King M.
Our horns shall blow, then. All assemble here.
What, Tristram, sad?
Turning to him.
Tris.
[Still in the background—starting.)
My lord, like the sweet fall
Of a remembered tune, the gentle thought
Of your most royal bounty wakes in me
That sadness which still haunts the soul of joy.
King M.
I know the tune of thy most loyal heart.
Mario.
He is but a harp for brooding fantasy
To sweep with wandering fingers into song.
Humour his mood, my lord.
In happy time!
Tristram, we leave thee to thy mystery.
Tris.
With your good leave, my lord.
[Bows to king.
[Exeunt king, Mariodoc, knights and attendants.
[Tristram stands before Isolt of Ireland's apartment R., then turns away with a sigh and seats himself in one of the chairs on the dais, L. Isolt of Brittany appears at the door L. and watches him while he remains in thought. Then she comes timidly forward a few steps and speaks.
Is. of B.
Tristram! dear lord!
Tris.
[Shuddering.]
What are thou?
Is. of B.
Thy Isolt!
Tris.
[Without looking at her, his head supported on his hand.]
Isolt? 'Tis a sweet name.
Is. of B.
[Coming round and facing him.]
It is my name.
Tris.
[Looking up.]
Will the king hold his purpose for to-night?
Will he go hunting?
Is. of B.
That should'st thou know best.
But wherefore?
Tris.
[Rising.]
Wherefore? I would hunt with him.
[He comes down from the dais and paces restlessly.
I love a noble burst under the moon,
When I sit horsed upon a dream, and hear
Nay—I am sick of hunting, sick of dreams;
Would there were wars, new wars!
Is. of B.
That would not I.
Dost thou not love me, Tristram?
Tris.
Ay, by the bond
That makes us one, I love thee—as myself!
Is. of B.
Why am I then killed with cold looks?
Tris.
Why? why?
That is the world's one everlasting wail,
It sighs in every wind, and the vext sea
Speaks it in thunder. Why? Silence itself
Is vocal in that never-answered word.
[He stands still and listens.
Hark, how the sea-fowl scream about this tower!
There will be storm at changing of the moon.
Is. of B.
[Laying her hand on his arm.]
O, Tristram, thou dost love me! Must I beg
Even for the crumbs of love's own daily bread?
Tris.
Why shouldst thou beg? Women should grant, not beg.
[Looking sadly at her.
A woman's love! What is a woman's love
That it should make men traitors to themselves?
[He gently disengages himself, and again paces to and fro.
Is. of B.
Is this my Tristram of the pleading harp?
Tris.
Time is too short with his revealing hours
To bare the mysteries of our mortal clay.
Each man is double. Thinkest thou I am Tristram?
Poor child, thou art deceived! I am not he.
Where is thy lord? Go seek him in thy chamber!
Is. of B.
My chamber?
Tris.
Ay, let him not find me here.
[Looks round him with increasing agitation.
That other Tristram frights me.
Is. of B.
Oh, what means this?
Tris.
It is a warning of near death, when men
See their own spectres. There! He comes again!
With my own face he sternly looks on me!
Speak to me! Call me traitor!
[To Isolt of Brittany.
Dost thou not mark
How his rebuking eyes abash me? Go!
He becks thee from me—go!
Is. of B.
Nay, I see nothing.
Is this but madness feigned to put me by?
Tris.
Ask me not what it is—let me get hence!
[As Tristram is about to go out at back, re-enter Mariodoc, meeting him.
Mario.
A word with you, Sir Tristram of Lyonesse!
[Tristram impatiently pushes past him and exit.
Oho! Sir King that is to be; but we are not king yet!
[Mariodoc comes forward observing Isolt of Brittany who stands in dumb amazement.
Well, sister, what of your suit?
Is. of B.
Oh, do not ask me!
[She grows faint, Mariodoc leads her to the door of her apartments and speaks as she goes off.
Mario.
Something's amiss; but it shall be righted.
[As he comes back Melot skips in from the corridor.
Melot.
Hide, hide, if you would see sport! She will
come now.
[He drags Mariodoc into the corridor, and they hide behind the curtains. Enter from Isolt of Ireland's apartments, R., Enna. As she looks cautiously round Melot runs up to her; Mariodoc remaining, observes them from the back.
Melot.
My thousand welcomes to you, my Irish
daisy!
Enna.
[Starting with a scream.]
Oh, you ugly little
scorpion! What is it you want with me?
Melot.
It is your love I want, thief of my heart! Your
love!
Enna.
It is the white wish of my heart you may be
hanged!
Melot.
Hang me first, so you will love me after. But it
is yourself is the gallows I would like to be hanging
on for ever!
[He winds a long plait of her hair round
his neck and looks up at her with mocking entreaty.]
Have pity, beauty of the world! Have pity!
[Enna struggles to free herself, and he kneels, clutching at her skirts.
You have taken the heart from my breast, and
left a stone in the place where it was.
[Pretends to weep.
Enna.
Leave me go, you foul goblin!
[Melot rises and looks at her with threatening grimaces, then takes his bauble and draws a circle round her on the ground.
Melot.
Oh, go! If it is leaving me you would be. But out
of that magic circle you'll never stir till I say
Almodoth! See how it flames!
Enna.
[Terrified.]
Flames? Oh, you have put sorcery
on me!
Melot.
Oho! Will you be cruel still?
[Grimaces.]
Well,
I have been cruel in my day.
[Struts round her.]
Many's the fair woman I have betrayed. It is the
gay goblin I have been.
Enna.
[Laughing hysterically.]
Where was the woman
could love a misshapen thing like that?
[Points at him.
Melot.
[With a touch of real feeling.]
Take your finger
from me! The more should be your pity for my misfortune,
you swan of the sweet music! Faggots and
fire were my mother's gossips when I came into this
bad world. But what's that to you or me?
[Laughs
bitterly.]
Will you dare to scoff at Creation's master-piece?
[Struts and leers.]
Am not I a man?
Enna.
Ay, if a man would happen to get made in the
Devil's image.
Melot.
[Seizing her hands.]
It is an enchanted prince
curse. Kiss me thrice, and you shall see me transformed.
[He pinches her arm. She screams.
Kiss me, Beauty of the World, and I'll let you go.
[She bends to touch his forehead with her lips; but he draws her head down and kisses her on the mouth.
Enna.
Ugh!
Melot.
The first kiss! The other two may wait. I
wouldn't give the scraping of a trencher for a
woman's love; but do my bidding, and you shall
have—
Enna.
What?
Melot.
Stoop the rosy shell of that little ear to my
mouth.
Enna.
Is it bite me you would?
Melot.
No—not even kiss you, on the honour of a king!
[She bends down.
You shall have—Tristram's love.
Enna.
[Startled.]
Sir Tristram's?
Melot.
Oh, I can read your thoughts, my hidden flower
of the woods! But first it is that proud witch, Isolt,
we must put out of your road for you.
Enna.
My mistress?
Melot.
She is a crow to a swan when you are in the
one place with her. But 'tis black the swan will be
getting that consorts with crows.
[With solemnity.]
If you hate sin, give me a clue that will lead the
that women desire.
Enna.
Oh, you imp of the devil! Let me go, out of this!
Melot.
Oh, you lost angel! Stay and be tempted back to
grace!
[Showing the pearls.]
You shall have these.
Enna.
I would not sell my mistress for—for anything
you would offer me.
[Exit Mariodoc behind, laughing.
Melot.
Sell? Small fear I have you would do that. But
will you see a noble king betrayed, and you eating
his bread? And you holding the tongue you say your
prayers with, and helping her to deceive him?
Enna.
I am in two minds what to do.
Melot.
Do right—walk in the path of virtue, and you
will find it your path to fortune. Here are the first
drops of the shower of good luck that is over you.
[Clasps the armlet on her arm.]
Look how well they
become that white arm—and this, my swan of the
white neck!—this
[shaking the necklace before her]
—this for proof of—you know what.
Enna.
Well—to none but the king will I tell it.
Melot.
To the king, then—to the king!
[Waves his
bauble.]
Almodoth! You are free! Go and tell her the
coast is clear!
[He makes her a mocking bow as she steps out of the circle and exit R.
Melot.
I must wipe the silly magpie's kiss from my lips
for fear it would corrupt my virtue.
[Wipes his lips with his cuff.
Is. of I.
This elvish dwarf had malice in his face,
His eyes are death's cold beacons.
Bran.
You sport with danger
Using the king with such a frank disdain.
Is. of I.
I have no skill in feigning, and grow sick
Of breathing sleek hypocrisy for air.
O God! I must break forth or die!
Bran.
Fly then!
While time holds back the blabbing hour—fly now!
Is. of I.
Perhaps?—The king suspects me, does he not?
Bran.
And with good cause, madam.
Is. of I.
How now, Brangwaine?
What ails thee?
Bran.
Oh, I cannot bear it longer,
Would I had died, ere sworn myself your slave,
To practise treason the most damnable!
Is. of I.
Worse didst thou do to me, changing the draughts.
'Tis but soft penance I have laid on thee;
For the grey king has found my proxy fair!
Thou hast a woman's craft to play for power,
And art half amorous of the greybeard's fame:
Play well, thou winn'st a crown.
Bran.
I would not win
With such a crime the crown of all the world—
Is. of I.
[Kissing her.]
Thou art none.
There is no wanton, save the bride who loathes
To yield herself, yet yields.
Bran.
My sin's as foul!
Is. of I.
Not thine the fault, nor mine. His, his, 'tis his
Sin against youth and love. Think what foul wrong
This dotard does me, binding my young life—
Bran.
Dotard? I tell you were ten thousand Tristrams
Laid in one scale, the king but touched its brother,
His worth would make them but a feather's weight.
Is. of I.
Ha! Thou dost love this king?
Bran.
That love redeems me.
You have torn my secret bleeding from my heart.
Would I could tear that heart out of my breast
To lay in expiation at his feet!
Is. of I.
Pay with my blood, not thine! I might have seen—
The more fool I—a woman trust a woman!
Bran.
I never wronged you, nor will wrong you now,
Though sick with fear I play your desperate game.
Is. of I.
Forgive me then, I'll trust thee—one bold stroke
Even now may set us free.
[Tristram's harp is heard preluding.
'Tis Tristram's harp. It speaks in sad accords.
Go, bring him here! Say I must speak with him.
[Exit Brangwaine.
He comes as though the longing of my heart
“I want thee; come to me!”
Re-enter Brangwaine with Tristram and page.
Tris.
Take my harp, boy; wait in the corridor.
[The page takes the harp and exit into the corridor. Isolt motions to Brangwaine. She retires R. and watches.
Isolt! I live once more.
Is. of I.
Oh, my life's lord!
My breast is earth waiting the touch of spring;
Comfort its cold, for I am sick with longing.
But now, no time for solace of sweet words,
Each moment is a traitor. Oh, my love,
We must fly, fly to-night!
Tris.
To-night? 'Tis sudden.
Is. of I.
It must be dared.
Tris.
I was o'er-ruled by thee,
When in our first glad hour under green boughs
I whispered: We must fly!
Is. of I.
I was a fool,
Ten times a fool, to bid thee wed that woman.
Tris.
Why didst thou?
Is. of I.
Oh, thought of thy coming years
Made me in this too hard against myself!
I was too weak. These long, long days I have raged
A jealous woman, jealous, Tristram, jealous!
Tris.
Thou hast no cause. O for a word of flame
That should outlive the stars, to speak my love!
The sun is back in heaven. But hark! Tristram,
I doubt Brangwaine.
Tris.
Brangwaine?
Is. of I.
She loves the king.
Tris.
We should have feared this. We must fly.
Is. of I.
To-night.
May it be done?
Tris.
[Calling the page.]
Here, boy! It may be done.
[The page enters. Tristram gives him his dagger.
Off like an arrow! This to Kurvenal,
And wait me at the fountain by the wood
With what he gives thee.
[The page about to go.
Stay! Hast thou, Isolt,
One woman thou canst trust?
Is. of I.
Enna, my maid;
A simple thing that came o'erseas with me.
Tris.
Then at the fountain let her meet my page.
Is. of I.
[Calls.]
Enna!
[Enna comes. Isolt speaks to her aside.
Tris.
[To page.]
Give her the token sent by Kurvenal.
Page.
I will, my lord.
[Enna bows and withdraws.
Tris.
Off, then, wings at thy heels!
[Exit page, L.
Is. of I.
What signifies this dagger message?
Tris.
“Danger!”
This month, by Kurvenal's hut in the woods
Swift horses in their stalls stand day and night,
And in a lone cove of the southern coast,
Manned and in trim for sea my warship waits.
O bravely done! And I? What is my part?
Tris.
The king will hunt to-night. Keep thou thy chamber
Till the loud horns grow faint in the far woods,
Then steal to Kurvenal's hut. I'll meet thee there,
And then to sea, for love and liberty!
Is. of I.
The sea! O listen, Tristram, how it calls us!
The waves grow wild, seeking us on the shore,
And the wind whistles, eager for our sail.
I'll trust no soul, but go alone.
Tris.
So best.
Is. of I.
But for the token sent by Kurvenal?
Tris.
If all be well, two aspens twined in one,
Their heart-shaped leaves like lover's trembling hearts.
Is. of I.
Our old sweet pledge of secret meeting! [Laying her hand on his shoulder.]
Tristram,
Can all the future hold diviner bliss
Than those brief hours that were—so long ago?
Tris.
Has Love no word but one, or that one word
May he not speak it in a thousand tones?
Death steals into the heart when passion cloys.
Is. of I.
A great word, death; familiar to my soul
As love's most inward song—
[Draws phial from her bosom.
See, Tristram, here
I keep that love-drink we have drained not yet.
Tris.
There are fresh fields to walk in ere that day.
Life on the budding moment richly lives;
[Isolt returns the phial to her breast.
Is. of I.
To-day—to-night! What is the sign of danger?
Tris.
A dead branch.
[Trumpet heard.
Bran.
[Coming down stage.]
The king's trumpet!
[Exit R.
Tris.
We must part!
Is. of I.
'Till night, then nevermore perchance.
Tris.
Farewell!
Is. of I.
Farewell! I shall be sick and sick indeed,
Until I kiss my ease in those green hearts.
And then into the air, Tristram, with thee,
Out, out, into the air, freedom and love!
Tris.
Good speed!
Is. of I.
Farewell!
[Exit Tristram behind.
[Re-enter Brangwaine with Isolt's ladies in waiting. As she places a splendid mantle on Isolt's shoulders she says in a low voice.
Bran.
Remember—you may trust me!
Curtain
| Isolt of Ireland | |