J. Comyns Carr - Tristram and Iseult - Act II lyrics

ACT II. THE HANDS THAT HEAL. SCENE:—Hall in the Palace of King Gormon in Ireland. To R. an open arcade with columns through which is seen a view of rocks and sea. In the centre is a recessed alcove in which is set TRISTRAM'S couch. It is screened by curtains which are drawn back when the act opens. To L.C. two great doors, which open to the lists where the tournament is taking place. 1st Knight. How fares it now? 2nd Knight. In truth most ill, my lord. Our knights are overmatched: this pagan Lord, Sir Palamide the Saracen, whose shield Doth bear for sole device the face of d**h, Still stands the conqueror. 1st Knight. What knights are left For this last day's encounter? 2nd Knight. As I came I saw Sir Lamorack with lifted helm, Hopeless yet fearless, ride into the lists To face Sir Palamide. 1st Knight. Aye, and after him? 2nd Knight. Sir Galleron of Galway, he stands first Of those that yet remain; Sir Malgrine next, And next and last the brave Sir Morganore, In whom lies all our hope. [The great gates to L. open and the trumpet is heard. Nay, heard you that? The end draws swiftly. Enter through doors KING GORMON with QUEEN OREN, followed by KNIGHTS and DAMES, and last MORGANORE, GALLERON and MALGRINE. King. Where is Morganore? Morganore. I'm here, my Lord! King. Tis well, and Malgrine too! Aye, and Sir Galleron! we need ye all. What stands upon the hazard of this hour We may not now withhold. When Palamide First challenged all our knights, then straight for all We answered him, nor deemed that ill could chance. Oren. Nor then had cause, for then Sir Moraunt lived. King. Aye! and full many another in whose strength, That oft' had proven true, we set our trust! Have we done wrongly? Ye shall answer that,— Ye three who still remain the last of all To save our land; for in that boastful hour, Undoubting of their valour who have fallen, We pledged our oath that should this paynim knight Prove victor at the close, he then might claim What boon soe'er he willed: and now 'tis said His courage runs so high he will demand The hand of fair Iseult. Oren. Yea, of a truth! A curse lies on the land since Moraunt died! Morganore. [Kneeling before the KING.] My Lord, we are less than Moraunt! Who would dare To stand his equal? Aye, and less than those This knight hath overborne; yet here we vow While breath remains, we will not flinch nor yield To proud Sir Palamide! This word for all. [Doors L. open, and trumpet heard without. Enter HERALD. Herald. Sir Lamorack rides beaten from the field; The challenge sounds again! Morganore. And we are here! King. Then take this last word with ye: if God will That one amongst ye three should here prevail Against this Pagan knight, then that reward Which else were his, we freely yield again To him who smites him down. Nay, Sirs, and more! If any Christian knight within our realm, Whoe'er he be, unhorse this Saracen— Our oath stands firm; what gift he wills to ask We needs must grant, even though the chosen prize Should prove our daughter's hand. [Challenge sounds again. Morganore. For fair Iseult! Galleron. For God and thee! Malgrine. For God and fair Iseult! [Exeunt MORGANORE, MALGRINE, and GALLERON with their SQUIRES and ATTENDANTS. As the great doors close the strains of a harp are heard through the open columns to R. King. Where is she now? Oren. Iseult? What need to ask? Those silken sounds make answer. Since that day This stranger Lord came drifting to our shores, Though no man knows what knightly name he bears, She hath no thought but how to heal his wound. Brangwaine. Hour upon hour she sits beside the sea The while he harps to her. King. [To BRANGWAINE.] Go, bring her thither. [Exit BRANGWAINE. That must be told which until yesterday We hoped to hide for ever. Would we owned But half her magic art, and so might heal The wound that waits her now! Oren. Ah! rather think Had Moraunt lived there were no wound to heal! For though he stood the last of all our knights We should not fear nor falter, knowing his arm Would shield her from this shame. King. Enough! Enough! We cannot wake the dead! Oren. Nay, but the dead May wake the living! For his blood is ours, And cries aloud for vengeance. Thou wert by, The night they bore him hither, when these hands Searching his mortal wound, drew forth at last This splintered fragment of that traitor's sword, Whose hand had slain him! Look on it again! [She draws from her bosom a fragment of broken steel, which she wears attached to a chain. Here, ever next my breast, from that dread hour Hath lain this broken steel, whose icy touch Yet feeds my heart's one flame, one sole desire— To find the murderer out and strike him down. What wonder then, at this our hour of need, I dream again of vengeance? King. Ah, no more! Think not that I forget! I, whose mad vow Is like to lose all that is left to us. Enter ISEULT, followed by BRANGWAINE. Iseult. My Lord, thou did'st send for me? King. Aye, so I did. Something there was I had in mind to say, But now 'tis flown. Iseult. It will come back again. I may not tarry now; that knight I tend Waits for me there below. To-day I dreamed His malady was ended; near the dawn His eyes turned seaward, and his parted lips Moved as though shaping a forgotten name! I scarce dared breathe, but listened, thinking at last That memory, his fevered wound had wrecked, Would grow to life once more, and we should learn From whence he came and what proud name he bears. But on a sudden all grew dark again. He spake no word, but turned with trembling hands And clutched the harp. Hark you! that softer strain Doth tell he needs me. [She moves to go. Oren. Stay, child, go not yet, We too have need of thee! Can'st thou not see The King is sorely troubled? Iseult. [Returning to GORMON and laying her hand upon his shoulder.] Is it so? Why then, I'll tend thee too; and these same hands That coaxed the poison from his graver wound, Shall chase thy cares away. King. I would they could! Iseult. First I must know thy pain? [Trumpet heard without. Oren. Dost hear that cry? And yet would question him? Can'st thou not guess What bitter shame doth here afflict us both? In this great tournament that ends to-day One after one the mightiest of our knights Have yielded to this paynim Lord, whose spear Bears all before him. Iseult. Aye, so Brangwaine said. Yet more remain! the brave Sir Morganore And Malgrine too! They are not worsted yet! And though they were, methinks 'twere not enough To breed that look of torment in thine eyes. Nay, do not turn away! There's something more Doth lurk beneath what's told. Is there some prize This lord may win thou hast no heart to pay? King. Aye, child, there is! Iseult. Yet never grieve at that. Our land is rich; he cannot beggar us! King. Yea, but he can! For this rich prize he claims Is more than all the j**els in our crown. Iseult. What may that be? Ah! tell me. The doors open, trumpet sounds, and HERALD enters, followed by PALAMIDE'S SQUIRE. Herald. Good my Lord, Sir Galleron hath fallen; Sir Palamide Now cries a halt and sends his Squire hither To ask a boon of thee. Squire. [Kneeling to the KING.] King Gormon, hail! My master gives thee greeting and doth crave Thy presence in the field, that at the end When all have fallen, in the face of all He there may claim by warrant of thine oath That sweet reward that crowns his victory, The hand of Fair Iseult! Iseult. Was this the prize? Oh Sir, 'tis roughly told! And yet I know not! That sentence had it fallen from thy lips Perchance had hurt me more. [Turning to SQUIRE. Thy master, Sir, Should be a valiant knight. Then tell him this— What's won by force must needs be held by force. No gentler bond shall stand betwixt us twain: I have no will to wed. Squire. Most royal maid, Whate'er my Lord shall win is held for thee, And in thy service. So this day shall prove. For here he doth declare, on oath made good, That, should this last encounter yield him all, He will straightway take upon him Christian vows. And furthermore, in worship of thy name, He will not rest till, searching through the world, He finds Sir Tristram, Lord of Lyonesse, And there upon his body doth avenge The murder of thy brother. Oren. Now, in faith, This is a valiant knight! For all that's gone That vow may make amends. Iseult. No, it may not. I have no will to wed. Oren. That will shall come. Let vengeance fill the unborn springs of love 'Till every drop of Moraunt's wasted blood So lights the flame of pa**ion in thy veins That thou shalt take this warrior to thine arms And call him Lord! Here, beside Moraunt's bier Thou too did'st take that oath that binds us all. Dost thou not still remember? Iseult. All too well! And see his dead face now. Yet God hath willed These hands were made for healing, not for hurt. For so that gift in dreaming long ago Was borne to me by one whose fairer face Yet mirrored mine; with eyes so like mine own That as I gazed in them it seemed as though I saw myself again. And since that hour All the dumb creatures of our woods, whose pains The hunter heeds not—all have sought me out; The fallen bird with broken quivering wing, The limping hare, the bleeding stricken fawn, And I have healed them all. 'Twas so, my Lord, I won that art that all the land hath blessed. I would not, therefore, that my marriage vow Were writ in blood. [TRISTRAM'S harp heard softly again. See now, how I forget That one who needs me most! [She turns to go and meets GOUVERNAYLE. Gouvernayle. Lady, my Lord Grows weary and would sleep. Iseult. Aye, so he shall; Sleep is a sovereign cure! Enter 2nd HERALD. 2nd Herald. Sir Malgrine waits, And ready harnessed doth but need thy sign. Iseult. Then all is not yet lost. Sire, when it is Be sure I shall not fail thee. Fare thee well. [Exit ISEULT. King. Go, let the challenge sound. Tell Palamide We'll straightway to the field, and at the close, Whate'er befall, our oath shall stand as now. [Exeunt L. KING, KNIGHTS and COURTIERS, leaving OREN and BRANGWAINE. Oren. Did'st note her, Brangwaine? In her pitying eyes There dwells no memory of Sir Moraunt's d**h. Her thoughts set all one way - What is this knight Whose very name we know not? Brangwaine. Who can tell? The fever that was like to end his life Hath left the past a blank; where none may read— Not he himself—what once was written there. Oren. Yet I would read it. Brangwaine. Oft-times, as he plays, The echoing music of his harp calls back Stray memories of forgotten days that fall Like scattered beads from off a broken string; And once it chanced, I do remember well, He sang of some great battle past and gone, Wherein I since have thought he took that wound Her sk** hath healed. Iseult crept to his side With cheeks of flame and trembling lips that hung On every word; then rising at the close She prayed her eyes might look upon that sword Had wrought such valiant deeds. Oren. And then! What then? Brangwaine. Why, then a sudden cloud fell on his brow And he denied her. Oren. Wherefore did he so? Brangwaine. I know not, Madame. Oren. Brangwaine, we shall know! Aye, and this very hour. But yester-night A withered crone stood by the castle gate, And as I pa**ed she croaked this in mine ear— "The light of Erin's poisoned spear Shall draw that wounded warrior near." What if this knight her care hath won to life Should prove none other than that Cornish Lord Who struck Sir Moraunt down! Where hangs this sword? Brangwaine. He guards it closely ever at his side, Safe locked within its scabbard. Oren. Yet to-day We'll draw it from its hiding. [Harp heard again. See you, now She leads him hither! 'Tis his hour for rest. Wait for her here; then bid her give him this. [She hands BRANGWAINE a small phial. It hath a virtue that persuades to sleep, And when all's still I'll creep beside his couch And draw that naked blade from out its sheath. If then I find it lacks this splintered steel, He shall not wake again, for these same hands Shall send Sir Moraunt's murderer to his doom. [Exit OREN softly, leaving BRANGWAINE standing by the curtained opening. Enter TRISTRAM and ISEULT. Tristram. I'll hear it from thy lips; some pa**ing cloud Hath dimmed the tranquil summer in thine eyes, And I would know the cause. Iseult. First thou shalt sleep. Tristram. I am not weary now. Iseult. Nay, Sir, thou art. And when thy sleep is ended then perchance I'll try to tell thee all. Brangwaine. Madame, the Queen Did bid me give thee this—it hath a charm That wins all eyes to sleep. Iseult. Now see you, Sir, We must obey the Queen. I thank thee, Brangwaine. [Then aside to her. Go quickly forth and bear me words again If any hope be left! None lingers here! Brangwaine. I will, sweet mistress. [Exit L. [ISEULT stands as though lost in reverie. TRISTRAM approaches her. Tristram. Would I owned thy power! That so the patient might become the leech, And cure his stricken nurse; for that sweet sk** That drew the poison from my wounded breast Hath lodged it in thine own. Is this life's law? Is health so dearly bought that what is won Proves but a robbery from that purer source That did bestow the gift? Then give me back The wound those hands have healed, that so mine eyes May see thee smile again. Iseult. 'Twere all in vain. Nor thine, nor mine, nor any hand may heal That wound I bear. There is no hope from d**h; And he was dead ere yet they bore him hither, Ere yet these hands had touched him. Tristram. He was dead? Iseult. Aye, Moraunt. It was here they laid him down, Here in this hall. Tristram. Doth that black memory Still haunt thy soul? I thought 'twas past and done. Iseult. I thought so too, but now it lives again. Those lifeless eyes renew their vacant gaze, And that dread oath of blood my halting lips Scarce dared to whisper then, I now could cry Aloud to all the world. Aye, sir, and more, For were he here, that caitiff knight who slew him, I'd yield what healing power these hands have owned And pray their touch were mortal. Tristram. Wherefore now? What is it now that stirs thy gentler heart And turns thy tears to rage? Iseult. Were Moraunt here There were no need for tears! Had Moraunt lived This Pagan knight who lords it over all Were beaten to the dust, nor then would dare To name that prize which now he is like to win. Tristram. Is it so much he wins? Iseult. Not much, yet all To her who yields it all. Tristram. Then 'tis for thee The lists are set? For thee those fallen knights Have fought in vain? Thou dost not answer me, Yet well I know 'tis so; thou art the prize This Pagan lord hath set his heart to win. Iseult. So poor a prize. Tristram. So poor! Ah, hear me now. I too would curse the hour when Moraunt died, And curse the hand that slew him. Iseult. What have I done? Tristram. 'Tis not what thou hast done! When doth it end, This hapless tournament? Iseult. 'Tis ending now. Within the hour the final challenge sounds. Tristram. And all have right to enter? Iseult. Aye, Sir, all Who at the close can prove their knightly name. Tristram. Go leave me now. Bid Gouvernayle come hither, I may have need of him. Iseult. Ah! no, not yet, Not till I see thee sleep! I have undone All that these hands have wrought. I pray thee rest. Tristram. Ay, so I would! and find once more the way That leads to sleep. 'Tis thou shalt harp me there. For thou alone can'st guide my feet again To that lost land of dreams. Harp on, harp on! [He throws himself on the couch and ISEULT sits by his side and sings to him. Iseult. [Sings.] Night that bears all healing For the wounds of day, Night so softly stealing Bear his soul away. Where the white moon creeping O'er thy silvered lawns There shall find him sleeping When a new day dawns. [As he lies upon the couch as if in sleep the hall gradually darkens. At the close she rises and gazes upon him, drawing the curtain as she speaks. At last he sleeps. How easily he rests! If aught did vex his soul 'tis vanished now And all forgotten. [Voices of unseen spirits are heard singing. Chorus. Whiter than the moon are her hands that shall enfold him, Darker than the night is that land wherein she dwells. Thither shall she bear him and there thine eyes behold him, There when all is ended in the last of last farewells. [During this Chorus the VISION of ISEULT OF THE WHITE HANDS gradually appears through the drawn curtains. Iseult. Whence come those sweet sounds That fill the air? And thou, whose paler face Is fashioned like mine own, who art thou? Speak! Vision. My name is thine, I too am called Iseult, Iseult of the White Hands, whose marble touch Like thine hath power to heal. And where I dwell, In that far moonlit land towards whose pale coast All sails shall run for haven at the last, There too at last the sobbing seas shall bear him, And thou shalt seek him there. Yet, hearken now And store it in thy heart against that hour Thou shalt have need of it: whom thou hast healed, Though all unknowing, thou shalt wound again; Whom thou hast wounded I alone may cure. Nay, ask no more, the end shall answer all. [The VISION fades with a repeat of the unseen CHORUS. At the end ISEULT rises. Iseult. Whom thou hast healed him thou shalt wound again. Ah no! Ah no! Enter GOUVERNAYLE quickly through doors L. Gouvernayle. Madam, the end is near, Malgrine hath fared no better than his fellows. There yet remains but one, Sir Morganore. Where is my master? Iseult. Hush, Sir, wake him not. Gouvernayle. I would some voice could wake him! Then I think Sir Morganore were not the last to face This Pagan Lord. Iseult. Wherefore the more I pray He may sleep on! I would not for the world That he rode forth to-day, where, if he fell, Then I should know for sure it was my hand That wrought his wound. See! When he wakes again Bid him take this, 'twill win him back to sleep. [She gives him the phial, then aside as she goes out. Whom thou hast wounded I alone may cure! Is there no cure for me? [Exit R. Gouvernayle. Now of a truth That wound is deep already, and 'tis thou Hath struck the blow! Yea, for thy sorcery, Undoing all thy healing art had won, Hath set new venom in that festering spot Where dwelt a loyal heart. He whom I served I know no longer, and those fearless eyes That never quailed at d**h, now lurk and hide Beneath a traitor's mask. Awake! Awake! Awake Sir Tristram, Lord of Lyonesse, It is thy King that calls thee, 'tis thine oath; Hast thou forgotten all? Awake! Awake! [He springs towards the curtain, but as he does so TRISTRAM draws it aside and stands revealed in armour. Gouvernayle. My Lord, thy pardon. Tristram. Nay, Sir, spare all words. Where is my Squire? Enter SQUIRE hurriedly L. Ah! thou art here! What now? Squire. Sir Morganore is like to lose the day. All eyes are turned upon the King who stands As one who rules a realm of shattered dreams. Tristram. Go bid the Herald sound another challenge— The last of all! Go quickly! Wait me there. [Exit SQUIRE. [GOUVERNAYLE takes TRISTRAM'S sword and approaches him. Gouvernayle. Let these hands gird it round thee. Tristram. Not that sword, 'Twere evil augury to wield for her The blade that wrought her woe—see, this will serve. [He lays his own sword in its sheath on the seat outside the curtained alcove and draws GOUVERNAYLE'S from its scabbard. Gouvernayle. God send thee victory! Tristram. Nay, Gouvernayle, There is no victory! Whate'er is won I needs must yield again—so stands my vow. Ah, would that I were bound to some base Lord And not to him I serve, whose loyal love Compels my love again! Yet that were nought! Though all were mine to win, yet all were lost The hour she learned the hated name of him Who slew Sir Moraunt. And that hour must come. Not yet! Not yet! If she should ask of me, Say that I drank of this and fain would sleep The long night through. [He empties the phial on the ground. The SQUIRE enters and the challenge sounds without. Squire. The challenge sounds, my Lord. The lists are ready. Tristram. Sir, and so am I. There is no hour to lose; the waning day Draws swiftly to its close; the end is near, Nor shall I fail thee there. [Exit TRISTRAM with his Squire. [The slanting rays of light take a sunset glow. Gouvernayle. At last! At last! Sir Tristram lives again. [GOUVERNAYLE takes his stand by the drawn curtains, as the sound of the challenge is heard without. ISEULT enters R.] Iseult. Dost hear that cry? The final challenge sounds, yet none remain, To answer for me now! How fares thy master? Gouvernayle. Lady, he fares well. His wound, methinks, Is cured at last. See you, he bade me say He had done thy bidding. [Holding up empty phial. Iseult Then he sleeps again? [She approaches the curtains, but GOUVERNAYLE intercepts her. Gouvernayle. And would not be disturbed. Iseult. Nay, have no fear. I will not wake him. Go, Sir, leave me now And tell my Lord the King when all is done I shall await him here. [GOUVERNAYLE hesitates. Did'st hear me, Sir? Till then I'll guard thy master. [Exit GOUVERNAYLE. Aye, till then! It is not long to wait, and yet too long; For all the vanished dreams of all my life Come trooping to this little nook of time, To take their leave of me. And all lie there, All buried there with him who heeds them not. Yet should I dare to gaze upon that face That is their grave, they'd grow to life again And cheat my heart again. Yea, but I will— For the last time, the last. She holds the curtain as though about to lift it when OREN enters. Oren. Sir Minstrel sleeps? Iseult. He woke but once and now he sleeps again. The charm was thine. [Holding up the emptied phial. Oren. But thine the sweeter sk** First cured his wound. Iseult. Aye, it is cured at last; He needs no service now. Oren. Yet ere he goes Would'st thou not learn the name of this brave knight Thy care hath won to life. Iseult. Indeed I would. [OREN approaches her stealthily and points backward to the sword. Oren. Then draw that sword, methinks 'twill tell thee all. Iseult. No! No! That may not be. Oren. And wherefore not? Iseult. Not two days past I sought to see that blade And he denied me. Oren. Why did he do so? Iseult. I know not. Oren. Then I'll tell thee: writ in blood Upon that sword-blade stands Sir Moraunt's name. Iseult. [In terror.] What would'st thou say? Oren. Why this! There on that couch, Drugged in a sleep that knows no haunting dream, There lies thy brother's murderer. Iseult. Ah, no! Oren. Draw forth that sword and prove it! Iseult. [Hesitates.] Nay, I cannot! Oren. Then I will draw it. Iseult. No. [She makes a movement to stop her. Oren. Away! 'Tis done! [She draws the sword which reveals the broken blade. With a cry of triumph she approaches ISEULT. Those eyes were fain to see this trusty sword, Then look upon it now, and wonder not He did deny thee! 'Twere not much to show! Poor broken blade, and was thy master shamed To bare thee to the world? Nay, while he sleeps We'll quick repair the fault. Why now 'tis done! [She breaks off the fragment from the chain upon her neck and fits it in the vacant space, forcing ISEULT to gaze upon it. Iseult. Cast it away. Oren. Nay, take it in thy hand, And grip it well. It was Sir Tristram's sword. Today 'tis thine; he yields it up to thee. That hand hath healed him, won him back to life, Then 'tis for thee to take that life again. Iseult. Ah no! I dare not. Oren. Dare not? Art afraid? Iseult. These hands were made for healing, not for hurt. Oren. And mine for vengeance. [Snatches the sword from ISEULT and moves quickly towards couch. ISEULT seizes her. Iseult. No, thou shalt not! Oren. Why? [They face one another. ISEULT'S eyes drop. Iseult. I know not, yet thou shalt not! Oren. Out on thee! [Flinging her to her knees.] Not all the world should stay me! [She rushes to curtain and draws it aside, finding the empty couch. What is this? Iseult. Not there! Oren. Not there! Oh, craven coward knight, That dared not wait to claim thy last desert! Dost think that this can save thee? Nay, not so, The King shall know the truth. From out our ports No ship shall sail till vengeance claims its due. [She rushes off entrance down L., leaving ISEULT on her knees. [Cries are heard without amidst the blare of trumpets. Iseult. The end hath come at last! What matters now, For all is lost. Enter BRANGWAINE hurriedly. Brangwaine. Sweet lady, all is won. Look up and stay thy tears; there at the last When Morganore had fallen, a stranger knight, Clad in white armour, rode into the lists And wrested from that Pagan Lord his shield. Aye, and his spear, and cast him to the earth. Iseult. What stranger may that be? Brangwaine. That none can tell, His name is kept till now. But see, the King Draws hither with the Court. To him at last This valiant Lord must needs declare his name. [Amid growing cries of victory, the KING and all the KNIGHTS and DAMES enter and fill the hall. King. My child, our land is freed and so art thou. Where is this stranger? Go, Sir, bring him here. Herald. He comes, my Lord. TRISTRAM enters, and as he lifts his helm reveals his face to ISEULT. Iseult. [Aside.] Too late! 'Twere better far That he had fallen too. King. We thank thee, Sir, Not for ourselves alone, but most of all For her who owes thee all; and there she stands! The fair Iseult, who but an hour ago We thought to lose for ever. Think not then We seek with empty service of mere words To pay our heavier debt. Not so, Sir Knight! By this great victory, thou dost inherit The advantage of that oath was sworn to him Whom thou hast conquered. That same right is thine; Then claim what boon thou wilt. We needs must yield Whate'er thy tongue shall ask. Tristram. There is no boon That I have right to ask. King. Yea, but there is That right sits in thy sword. Then speak thy will. Enter HERALD quickly. Herald. My Lord, there waits without a Cornish Lord Who claims thy favour. King. Nay, no favour waits For any Cornish Lord, unless perchance He wearies of his life. Enter ANDRED. What seek you here? Andred. I seek Sir Tristram, Lord of Lyonesse. [The QUEEN has entered, holding TRISTRAM'S broken sword in her hand. King. We know him not, or know him only as a coward knight Whom we do wait to slay. Oren. Not so, my Lord, We know him well! and here I yield him back That traitor's sword that struck Sir Moraunt down. Iseult. Ah, say it is not thine. King. Declare thy name! Tristram. My name is Tristram, Lord of Lyonesse. Iseult. Then all was true! All. Now let the traitor die! Andred. Aye, traitor truly! Where, Sir, is thy trust, Where stands that pledge thou gavest to King Mark? Tristram. I do discharge it here. [Turning to GORMON. Here, before all, I who have won this day, now claim that boon Thy lips may not refuse. Oren. No boon but d**h! A curse upon thee and thy master too. All. Yea, let him die! King. Nay, Sirs, our oath must stand. [Turning to TRISTRAM. What is that boon? Tristram. Thy daughter, fair Iseult! [ISEULT starts forward. TRISTRAM continues. To be the royal bride of him I serve. [ISEULT swoons in the arms of BRANGWAINE as the curtain falls. CURTAIN.