 | The Tragedy of Pardon |  |
5
ACT I
Scene I
An early spring morning on the sea.The ship of Tristan is moored by the coast of Wales: the sailors are gone ashore. The stern of the ship is higher than the head, so that the deck slopes toward the hidden head. Immediately in front is the mainmast and the door of the cabin. Tristan, with his back turned, leans against the helm, his arm over the wheel. His form is seen against the light green hills of the coast.
Once or twice he whistles bird-notes—then keeps silence.
A few Little Maidens are playing amid the tackle on the foremost part of the deck. Tristan, roused by their cries and laughter, turns and watches them.
1. Little Maiden.
Catch me, if you can, O Hoodman, blind as buzzard.
2. Little Maiden.
As mole or bat or beetle.
4. Little Maiden.
Or as the blinkard owl.
Lo and behold me here!
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Look and observe our ambush!
Who put your eyes out, Hoodman?
2. Little Maiden.
Away!
1. Little Maiden.
Away!
4. Little Maiden.
Away!
[They rush off with screams of merriment to starboard.
[Iseult enters from the cabin, coming up the steps. She stands fronting the head-sea and her country left behind.
Iseult.
Would I might lie down on my Irish shore,
Dead on my shore!
[She falls on the deck.
[Tristan draws near and stretches one of the idle sails out to shadow Iseult; then he paces a little distance from her.
[Unheeding.
Cursed be the sea!
[Tristan comes up softly, and says in a low voice, as if to himself.
Tristan.
He loved me from the sea; I was an orphan,
A cast-away, a wandering child;
He loved me from the sea, as his own son—
[Iseult raises her head.
I looked on you
In Ireland, when your Mother bore me in
As a sick wandering harper from the sea . . .
Iseult
(rising).
My Mother, very dark shall be her sunset!
Tristan
(fixing his eyes on her and continuing
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And when I left the dream was in my heart
To sing your beauty to the only mortal
Worthy of men to hear. Not Tantris' harp—
Tristan's—with fame that rustles through the world,
Sang to King Mark of Cornwall, my liege-lord—
Iseult is fair; there is no woman's child
So fair to look upon.
Aurora's daughter and her child, fair Helen,
Are rumoured fair, as if all beauty
Were gathered up in them as in two flowers.
O King, such idleness
Thou shalt no more believe! The sun of beauty
Dawned not in Greece! 'Tis risen in our day,
In Ireland, where the sun, born of the dawning,
Iseult, the daughter of Iseult, shines down,
Gladdening all creatures, giving fame to all;
For so her beauty is diffused, through her
All women in her brightness are shown bright.
[Iseult sinks on the gunwale.
Queen, you are faint . . . these days you have not eaten
Nor drunk! . . . And it is hot within the sun,
Burning down on us in his noon—you parched.
Maidens (turning)
, a flask of wine, a cup!
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Where find them?
2. Little Maiden.
Here is a cup the helmsman threw away
Before he left the ship.
[She gives it to Tristan.
3. Little Maiden.
Brangaena set
A flask of wine above her bed.
1. Little Maiden.
Then fetch it.
[Exit one of the Little Maidens.
[Tristan and Iseult stand silent. The other Maidens clustered at a distance chat in clear voices.
1. Little Maiden.
Look, Nessa,
The pebbles and the sand within the green
Of this still harbour are as white as flour
Upon a miller's stones.
2. Little Maiden.
And all at once
The sea-mews dive.
3. Little Maiden.
And how the seamen laugh
Around the little boat that bore Brangaena.
I wonder what she buys for us.
1. Little Maiden.
She landed
To sit upon the grass again, to wander
Along the seaward banks of primroses,
And smell soft breathings through the salt.
3. Little Maiden.
O Nessa,
Can you not smell the primroses? I can.
[The Maiden returns with Brangaena's flask: she gives it to Tristan and runs to join her fellows, who have begun a new game round the wheel.
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(pouring).
And you will touch the wine-cup with your lips?
Iseult.
No, I will drink the wine . . .
[She stretches out her hand, half fainting, for the cup, and as she drinks gazes at him over the brim.
As sweet as hydromel and bergamot:
How exquisite a fume!
[She drinks no more and hands the cup to him.
Tristan, the wine! . . .
Tristan
(as the empty cup falls from his hand).
But you are beautiful!
But you are very beautiful!
[He turns and moves away down the vessel.
Iseult.
Not gone?
Tristan!
Tristan
(returning).
You called—
Iseult.
The wine!
It covers me like death.
[Iseult faints.
Tristan.
She stirs her lids,
Her lips; the little movements gall me, pester
Till I could cast her from me. Yet so warm
A fervour mantles through me from her breath,
A solace that forbids me to be lone
And inauspicious any more. Iseult! [OMITTED]
I cannot love her. Ah, what have I thought!
Almost I am his son, and she . . . almost she is his wife.
[Iseult moves.
I cannot meet her eyes; there must be silence
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To give or take.
Iseult.
How lovely is the light,
And a white sea-bird sails across. . . .
[She lies looking up; a slow smile spreads over her face: she keeps looking up for a little while; then she closes her eyes.
What darkness!
[Suddenly she opens her eyes on Tristan.
My life, my death!
[They kiss.
No, opening flowers. . . . It has no name . . . far off
As Africa. I think it is the magic
My mother knows. Why do you vex yourself?
Tristan.
But I have wandered
So far I never more shall find the path.
Iseult.
There are no paths marked out before. Beloved,
The way is where we tread. There are no ways
For the arrow and the stars.
[Cry of the Little Maidens as they rush from the seaward side of the vessel to the landward.
All.
Brangaena comes.
1. Little Maiden.
Her bosom full of primroses.
2. Little Maiden.
Brangaena!
[She gradually appears up the side of the vessel. As she steps on board she sees Tristan and Iseult. The primroses drop on the deck.
Voice of Sailor
(below).
Heigh there, be quick!
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We shall be rowed ashore!
The salt grass must be lit with primroses,
And dances on about the hostelry.
Joy!
2. Little Maiden.
You are white, Brangaena, as a ghost.
[She waves them away. They get down with cries and laughter.
Brangaena.
—But she is in his bosom;
But they are lovers, and King Mark abused . . .
The flask! . . . Iseult, Iseult!
She lifts her head and smiles. O royal mother,
Whose prayers pursue our sailing! . . .
[Coming close.
Woe is me,
Sir Tristan, at this sight.
Tristan.
I have no sorrow,
No shame to call upon.
The whirr of pinions,
Strong as the elements, is all I hear
When mortal voice condemns me.
Brangaena.
O betrayed,
I do not speak your condemnation; never
May I accuse . . .
Tristan.
Brangaena,
Death could not part us! Is there anything,
O God Thyself, could part us?
Brangaena.
There is nothing.
[She turns away and stands on the scatter of primroses.
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Shut up for ever! . . .
[She throws the goblet to the waves.
Sunken, and for ever.
Scene II
The next morning. On the coast of Cornwall the Castle of Tintagel can be seen from the shipIseult and Brangaena
Iseult.
What shall I do? The ship is steering fast;
And all that frown of moonlight on the stream!
The ship is sailing. Yonder, see, the land
That will engulf me.
Brangaena.
You are sick for sleep.
It is the sea engulfs.
Iseult.
If I could plunge
Back in the sea! I know the magic call,
Would bring the great wave Cleena, in a rush,
To plight me back again to my own land!
O Erin, Erin!
Brangaena.
Tell me, royal heart,
What is your grief, for if there be a way
To lighten or remove it. . . .
Iseult.
Ah, you love!
Brangaena, I have passed my bridal-night.
How great the dawn is! I would be alone,
And watch the birds: but Tristan and his men
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There, up that awful fastness, to King Mark.
Brangaena.
If I can serve Iseult, Iseult's Iseult. . . .
Enter Kurvenal
Kurvenal.
Sir Tristan prays
That you put on your royal robes.
[He bows and retires.
Iseult.
Brangaena!
Brangaena
(kissing her).
Beloved, the darkness of your wedding night
Be mine, the shame.
Give me the royal robes.
[She wraps Iseult in them. Tristan is seen advancing; Iseult moves toward him.
For any man would gladly die for her:
I can do more. And all that we can do,
No matter what its name of infamy,
Is to be done, that in this checking world
Some may be free and proud.
How steep a coast!
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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;
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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!
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(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.
| The Tragedy of Pardon | |