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

ACT IV. THE WOUND INCURABLE. SCENE I. SCENE:—An apartment in KING MARK'S Castle at Tintagel. Window to R. with entrance above it. Entrance L. Doors C. Enter R. ARGANTHAEL, and her WAITING WOMAN. Arganthael. [To WAITING WOMAN.] Go to my chamber, and await me there. If one should ask for me, hold him close and bear me word of it. Waiting Woman. I will, my lady. [Exit L. Enter ANDRED R. Arganthael. Is the King returned? Andred. Aye, and keeps his room, vowing he will see none but Tristram Arganthael. Who is not here. Andred. Yesterday at noon Sir Tristram rode to the chase, and hath not since been seen. Arganthael. Say you so? Our woods are rich in game and Tristram loves the chase. Andred. Truly, and yet he would not hunt by night. Arganthael. Who knows he would not? Andred. What mean you? Arganthael. That you shall know to-night. For the time the King must see no one—nor Tristram, nor these Lords who now accuse us. Andred. They wait to see him now. Arganthael. So let them wait. Doth he yet know the charge they bear against us? Andred. Aye, and says no word; yet in his silence lies that which threatens more than speech. There's nought can save us now. All that we schemed 'gainst Tristram is blazoned through the land. 'Tis known we held back the news of Gormon's oath that day he set sail for Ireland. Yet that's not the worst; for we may not now deny that; while he tarried there, we openly accused him of treason to the King. Arganthael. And if we still could prove it? Andred. Yea, but we cannot. Enter WAITING WOMAN. Waiting Woman. Madam! Arganthael. What is it now? Waiting Woman. There's come one from the forest who doth plead To see thee instantly. Arganthael. What like is he? Waiting Woman. A poor mis-shapen thing that scarcely tops The stature of a child, yet on his face Stands a swart growth of beard. Arganthael. At last! 'Tis he! Go bear him to my room. [Exit WAITING WOMAN. Andred. Who is this hind? Arganthael. 'Tis the dwarf Ogrin, who's but half a man, Yet very cunning in all woodland craft. He bears us hither news of Tristram's hunting The King may care to learn. Andred. What can he know? Arganthael. Something beyond our hope, beyond our dream. Last night, as the moon rose, a stranger Lord Sought the Queen's forest bower where none hath leave To break the lonely vigil that she keeps In grief for Moraunt's d**h. Andred. Where doth this tend? Arganthael. Art thou so blind, my Lord, and can'st not see The net draws close at last? This stranger Lord Is Tristram. Andred. Tristram! Arganthael. Aye, Sir, it is he Who 'neath the moon doth visit Iseult's bower Night after night; and this mis-shapen dwarf Who tracked him there shall lead us there again To-night, with Mark. Enter Mark. Mark. Hath Tristram not returned Arganthael. Not yet, my lord. Mark. 'Tis strange! Arganthael. Nay, not so strange. Oft-times of late he hath ridden forth alone. Mark. Where is Sir Dinas? Andred. He and all his crew Wait there without. Mark. I'd have Sir Tristram here, Here close beside me, when these angry Lords Appear before us! So the world shall know That constant love we bear him. And ye too! Ye too shall know it! Our resolve is fixed, From this day forth it is the King that speaks! Let all who have sought to use our majesty For ends that are their own, look to themselves! Their cause is none of ours. What would'st thou say? "It was the King who urged thee?" Then thou liest! And so these Lords shall learn! There is no word, No word these lips have uttered that hath breathed Aught evil against Tristram. Andred. Not one word. Mark. Thou can'st not say I have not loved him well! Arganthael. Nay! All too well! Would Heaven he had deserved One tithe of that great love! Mark. Thou knowest he does And well I know it too. Andred. Thou knowest it not! Tristram is doubly false! Arganthael. Yet speak no word; 'Tis best to hold our peace. Though he be false The King still loves him. Wherefore then should we Destroy this worshipped image, though it bears Naught but the painted mimicry of truth! Mark. Ah, Madam, this poor trick shall not avail thee, He hath been tried too well, and with each trial His fame but shines more brightly. There is nought, And sooth I know it now, can prove him false! Nor greed of gold, it hath no gleam for him; Nay, nor ambition, for it tempts him not! Nor fear, whose valour stands beyond reproach! Arganthael. It is not always fear that makes men false. Mark. What is it, then, should move him? Arganthael. In that hour, When Eden's blossom turned to sudden fruit, She, from whose sin our world hath its beginning, Left to all time to come one fatal dower Which since hath wrecked the world: that poisoned cup Of deadly sweetened wine, which whoso drinks Is oft-times fearless, aye, and oft-times false I Mark. What lurks beneath thy speech? I'll know thy thought Though I should tear it from thee: speak, I say! Arganthael. Thy Royal bride Iseult is fashioned fair Beyond all dream of beauty! Mark. Well, what then? Arganthael. Is it not strange such beauty breeds not love? That all her days should pa** in ceaseless grief Which still delays that happier hour when thou Shalt share her couch? Mark. What's done is by our leave, Who see in this great love for Moraunt dead, The promise of still richer love for us When grief shall yield to joy. Arganthael. 'Tis a sweet thought. Andred. Yet what, Sir, would'st thou say if thou should'st know Her chamber door, that is shut close on thee, Lies open to another. Mark. 'Tis not true! Arganthael. Yea, but it is: and that same valiant lord Who nightly wins his way to her embrace Once slew her brother Moraunt! Mark. Tristram? Arganthael. He! Mark. This is some plot to snare me. Arganthael. If it be Then thou shalt judge us both. Mark. And so I will, And tear ye limb from limb! Andred. Go forth to-night, Approve it on the warrant of thine eyes! Mark. Or prove thee false! Arganthael. I do repent me now That aught was said. Though haply she be false Still she is fair! Why then, forget all else! Mark. Enough! Thou hast said enough! The very thought That other lips than mine have tasted hers, Doth gnaw and rankle like a poisoned wound That tears my heart. Yet, were that wound half cured Could I but know for sure that he was base! Arganthael. And so thou shalt. [She goes to door and speaks to her WAITING WOMAN. Bid Ogrin come to me! Waiting Woman. Madam, I will. [Exit. Arganthael. To-night beneath the moon. Thou'lt find him in her bower. Enter OGRIN. Mark. What shape is this? Arganthael. A creature of the forest, who knows well Each winding path that hunters love to tread. [To OGRIN. The King would find Sir Tristram, whom he loves, Think you your craft can set us on his trail? Ogrin. Aye, if to-night he chance to take again The way he took last night. Mark. What way was that? Ogrin. The way to the Queen's Bower. Enter HERALD. Herald. My lord! Mark. What now? Herald. Sir Dinas waits your pleasure. Mark. Tell him, then, At noon to-morrow we'll receive him here. And say this more, that justice shall not halt Where'er the bolt may fall. [Exit HERALD. Andred. The sun is down. The forest lies afar! Mark. Command my horse! [Exit ANDRED. [To ARGANTHAEL.] Dost thou ride too? Arganthael. Aye, surely, to the d**h. And when the hounds have k**ed, why then, my lord, I'll ask a boon of thee. Mark. And so thou shalt If by the fickle guidance of the moon We chance to find the quarry! Arganthael. As we shall! [They move to doors as the scene changes. SCENE II. SCENE:—ISEULT'S bower in the forest. The entrance that leads to the dwelling is down stage R., and the dwelling itself is either wholly hidden by trees or merely suggested by a portion of the turret seen above the trees. Beyond this entrance rises a rocky eminence down which is a practicable path that leads to the stage. It is overgrown with trees, through which the rays of the moon fall on the scene. This rocky mound forms the nearer bank to a little stream that falls behind it and flows across the scene from R. to L.; and another bank rises beyond and projects further on to the stage. In the centre a shelving bank borders the stream which lies here in a quiet pool, and then flows on till it falls into the bay that is seen between the trees on L. There are no entrances on L. which can be treated as though the rocks rose again with the stream running beyond them downwards to the bay. The general effect of the scene is of an enclosed dark woodland bower intersected by a rivulet. At the opening of the scene ISEULT is discovered in the moonlight. She lies crouched down upon the shelving bank, her face half in profile, with her eyes bent upon the stream. By her side stands BRANGWAINE watching her mistress. Throughout the scene BRANGWAINE'S manner has something of fateful forewarning. In the opening lines ISEULT has forgotten her presence and, without turning, calls as though to summon her from the dwelling. Iseult. Come hither, Brangwaine! Brangwaine. Mistress, I am here! Iseult. Come watch with me awhile; these eyes are worn And dazed with gazing in the swirling stream Yet dare not quit their office. Full an hour, Like some poor shipwrecked mariner who scans The desert main to find a friendly sail, They have swept the surface of this tiny sea— And all in vain! Brangwaine. What is it seek they there? Iseult. Love's messenger, a little ship that sails Night after night and bears upon its prow Its master's name that is my master's too! [She takes from the bank beside her some slips of notched olive wood, and holds them up to BRANGWAINE. See, here's a fleet of them; all safely docked, Their voyage done, they lie in haven now. [As she speaks she counts them over one by one. This was last night! And this the night before! And this, and this—Nay, I'll not count them all. Frail craft in sooth! Yet never argosy Bore such a golden freight! [She points upward to the cliff from which the stream descends. They're put to sea In yonder upland pool beyond the rock; And, when the torrent bears them into port, I know Sir Tristram's there, and doth but need My call to bring him hither. Every night He sends this signal and then waits to find The light that guides him homeward; but to-night No ship comes o'er the main and in my heart Springs up a nameless fear! Brangwaine. What fear? What fear? Iseult. There is but one! None else in all the world But just that one—that Tristram may not come. It was to-night he said? Brangwaine. Aye, 'twas to-night, Is it not every night? Iseult. And if it is? Yet every night renews that self-same fear Lest last night were the last. The shadow, there, Had scarcely kissed that stone when yester-eve My galleon came to shore; and now it falls— Slanting athwart the stream. Brangwaine. Be sure he'll come! Iseult. I would I could be sure! For that's love's pain— Its joy is never sure! And even here, Here in this tiny sea, a storm may grow And scatter all! Brangwaine. Aye, truly so it may! Iseult. [With sudden vehemence turning upon BRANGWAINE.] Nay, it may not! There is no storm that blows Can wreck our love! [Then suddenly changing to a softer mood. Come watch with me again. [She bends once more over the pool as BRANGWAINE kneels by her side. Dost see that feather fallen from the breast Of some lone dove? How gallantly it floats! Ah! little ship sail on, for haply thou Art also golden-laden and dost bear Love's message too! And there a star-shaped flower The stream hath kissed too roughly. See, 'tis drowned. Is that an evil omen! No, ah, no! My ship is safe in port! Safe, safe in port! [With a cry of joy she leans over and draws from the stream a little piece of notched olive wood which she holds dripping in the moonlight. She rises from the bank and shows it to BRANGWAINE. See here, and here, my master's name and mine Carved rudely in the bark! Then he is here! Sir Tristram's here at last! Now I could wait An hour, a day, a year, and when he came Still vow 'twas all too soon! Ah, but I could! [Then with a sudden change of mood. Go quickly, Brangwaine. Quickly, dost thou hear? And set the lamp within my turret chamber Add that one star to those that deck the night— Love's star that leads him home. Then hasten back. 'Twould seem a year if I should wait alone Till he be come! Brangwaine. When once that lamp is lit 'Twill not be long to wait. [Exit R. ISEULT alone. Iseult. Aye, but it will! An age! an age! And then, when he is by, The hurrying hours, racing toward the dawn, Will seem but one brief moment! Only one, Yet all a lifetime's there: for love is there! At whose command this little hidden bower Glows like a lighted palace in the gloom, And every darkened alley of the wood Holds up a fairy lamp. Then, when he's gone, Those envious shadows, that Love held at bay, Creep o'er the narrow empire of the moon And all grows dark again! [BRANGWAINE returns softly, ISEULT hears and half in fear calls without turning. Iseult. Whose step was that? Brangwaine. Nay, fear not, it is I. The lamp is lit: He will not tarry now. [ISEULT stands watching her own shadow cast by the moon upon the gra**. Iseult. Draw nearer, Brangwaine: Dost see that image printed on the gra**? That is Iseult! Look you, she's lonely now— Yet, if we watch awhile may be we'll see Another image creep beside her there. [BRANGWAINE draws closer so that her shadow falls beside that of ISEULT, who half playfully motions her away. Nay! Nay! Not thine, but his! And when I see That shadowy Iseult uplift her face Then I'll lift mine, and haply I shall find His lips upon mine eyelids! Until then I will not stir nor breathe! Brangwaine. Iseult! Iseult! Last night I saw another shadow there That was not his nor thine! Iseult. [Half in terror.] What dost thou say? Brangwaine. Ye twain were gone within and I remained, Watching alone here, close beneath this tree Whose lacing branches patterned by the moon, Lay like a broidered dream upon the gra**; So still was all the night! Yet, as I gazed Amidst those silent shadows there was one Bent and mis-shapen like a twisted bough That shifted from its place; I dared not move, Nay, scarce dared breathe, for in the dumb night air My breathing found an echo. Iseult. [Clinging to her.] What was there? Brangwaine. I know not; for that echo died away And from the forest came a whispered sound As though a panther crept o'er fallen leaves Then all was still again! Iseult. 'Twas nought but that Ah! fright me not to-night! Some vagrant beast Had stepped across the pathway of the moon— It was no more. Brangwaine. Pray Heaven it was no more, For all my days are haunted by the fear Of ill that may befall thee. It was I, And woe the hour! — who set that fatal draught Ye drank and thought was d**h. Iseult. And through d**h's door Pa**ed out to sweetest Heaven! The drink was nought, Nought but a sign that made the dumb to speak, The deaf to hear, and freed two prisoned souls That else were bound for ever. It was life. Aye, life, not d**h, thou gavest us to drink! What else is life but love. [During this speech, which she utters in a sort of subdued ecstasy, standing a little apart from BRANGWAINE, TRISTRAM has softly descended the rocky path and now approaches them unseen by either. But as he nears them his shadow falls between them, and at sight of it BRANGWAINE starts back with a cry of terror. Brangwaine. 'Tis there again, d**h's shadow in the moon! Iseult. Nay, coward heart, That shadow is my shadow! 'Tis my Lord! [He draws closer to her, and she turns with uplifted face and falls into his arms. BRANGWAINE turns to TRISTRAM. Brangwaine. I crave thy pardon. [Aside.] Heaven shield them well! Iseult. My life! Tristram. Iseult! Iseult. And I who fondly feared Thou would'st not come to-night! Tristram. Thou know'st full well There's nought but d**h could stay me. Was it she But now who spoke of d**h? Iseult. Nay, heed her not. She hath a foolish thought that yester-night She saw a crooked shadow in the moon That crept into the forest. Tristram. Said she so? Iseult. But it was nought, I know it! Tristram. Nay, 'twas he, Ogrin the dwarf, who spied upon us here! I saw him as I went! Iseult. Then all is known! Tristram. Or shall be! For what else is left to tell The world may never know: 'tis buried deep, Locked safe within our hearts. Iseult. Ah, hold me close! Nay, closer, closer still! Thy heart to mine— That when the hour be near, each separate pulse May cease in one. Tristram. Iseult! My Queen, Iseult! The end draws very near! In that pale dawn We thought 'twas d**h we drank, and so it was: For love like ours, that swallows up all life, Dwells on the verge of d**h. This earth's poor day Cannot contain it, and the boundless night, Where every path is set with golden stars, But leads us onward to that larger world Whereof d**h holds the key. Iseult. Nay, Tristram, nay! This world was thine! Thou wast its conqueror, And, but for me, had lived, its worshipped Lord: 'Twas I held up that cup! Tristram. And I that drank, Who else had died of thirst! These lips were parched Till they touched thine. These hooded eyes were blind And knew no beauty till they gazed in thine! There was no world for me—all was but void, Till love flung wide the doors and led me here— Here next thy heart! Iseult. Art thou indeed content? Though d**h o'ershadow us, art thou content? I may not ask for more! Tristram. There is no more! Who owns thee, owns the world! What else is left, In that poor realm that paupers count as life, Now lies unheeded, and its shattered laws, Made for a starveling race that knows not love, Read like a crazy scribble on the wall That fences round our Heaven. Iseult. And I, who feared That mine was all the joy, and thine the pain! With us love must be all: there's nought beside— Nor law, nor life, nor duty, nay, nor d**h! I did not dream it could be all to thee: That is my Heaven now! Tristram. And here is mine! [He kisses her upturned face. Iseult. Is this the last? The last? Tristram. And if it be, Yet count it as the first. For in that hour When d**h's pale shadow overspread the dawn, We thought the first was last. There is no end And no beginning to a love like ours— Which, still unwearied, is new born again With each encounter; so that now it seems These lips till NOW had never clung to thine: The first and last are one! Love's d**hless flame, Sprung from the void long time ere time began, Had sped through countless æons e'er it fused Our hearts in one; and shall burn brightly on When time and life are spent. Iseult. My Lord! My King! She sinks upon his breast and they remain clasped in a long silent embrace as the softer music reveals an undernote of terror and forewarning. Her face is turned upwards so that the moonlight falls upon it. As they stand so OGRIN and MARK followed by ANDRED appear upon the mound and are seen stealthily descending the rocky path. As OGRIN steps into the rays of the moon the light upon ISEULT'S face is suddenly darkened: TRISTRAM, who is gazing down upon her, feels by this sign the presence of the KING, and with a shuddering start rouses the half swooning ISEULT. Neither turn, yet each is conscious of what is there as, without a word, they draw asunder; and as they do so the shadow of MARK'S form falls between them. Silently he approaches, and as he nears them ISEULT pa**es to TRISTRAM's left and ANDRED descends and comes to the right of the KING. OGRIN remains on the path crouching beneath a twisted tree. All this is in dumb show, and when words come, they come slowly and almost in a whisper. Mark. At last! Tristram. At last! Mark. I have waited for this hour, Yet never dreamed 'twould come. Tristram. And I, my Lord, Have seen it coming with the measured tread Of d**h. Mark. Of d**h! So thou dost think to die? Tristram. That fate that drew me here cries out for d**h For d**h and life are one! and Life and Love! Iseult. Then, d**h, come quickly! End what needs must end I shall not falter. Mark. [With suppressed intensity.] And thou shalt not die! That were too swift a vengeance. Nay, nor thou, Most valorous knight! If ought should ail thee now; Were it no graver than a bloodless scratch, I'd pray that sorceress, there, to heal the wound— So thou should'st live for ever! And for ever, With endless shame, still feed my endless hate. Tristram. Ay, endless hate! For I have earned no less! Yet, in thy larger heart where love once dwelt, Some grain of noble pity, lingering still, Should bid thee end us both. Mark. Where love once dwelt? Dost think then that I loved thee? Tristram. Well, I know it! As now I know too well that love is dead. Mark. Nay, Sir, 'tis newly-born. For this one hour, That sets thee at my feet, doth almost breed The love I once but feigned. Thy glory then, Robbed me of all the love of all the land: For that I loathed thee and both night and day Prayed for thy d**h. But now, this sweeter chance That lays thee bare before me, yields all back— I owe thee thanks for that! Therefore live on, Hated and spurned by those who worshipped thee. Is not this mercy? Tristram. Thou art not the King! But some poor shadow that usurps his place. This is not he whom once I thought to serve, For whom these lips once drained that fatal cup I deemed was d**h! Nay, this is not the King! Mark. It is the King indeed! Tristram. Had I but known! Then, when I worshipped thee, had I but known! Yet all in vain; for in that sceptred hand Still stands the symbol of eternal law Which sets a canker in the sweet wild rose That rebel lovers press between their lips. There is thy victory. We yield thee that— Who else had all the world! [Turning on MARK. But now this last account betwixt us twain Sets my sword free. For wrong here answers wrong, And d**h shall claim us both. [As he advances upon MARK, ANDRED, who has crept up behind him, runs him through the back with his sword. Andred. [Aside.] Not yet, my Lord, 'Tis thou alone must die and, by thy d**h, End all my craven fears. [TRISTRAM, without a sound, staggers back and falls upon the bank. ISEULT throws herself upon her knees at his side, as the scene darkens, leaving but a glint on the central figures. Mark. So I am spoiled Of half my vengeance. Andred. Nay, Sir, had he lived Perchance thou had'st lost all. He knew thee well! [They creep off silently by the path on which they descended, leaving ISEULT and TRISTRAM alone. Iseult. My Lord, my Lord, look up! Tristram. I can but see d**h's shadow in the moon! 'Tis here at last! Iseult. Nay, 'tis not night that comes! It is not night! Tristram. Aye, truly, but it is! Then hasten night, Unbar that golden prison men call day. Iseult. Ah, look again, it hath the grace of dawn, The stars are flushed with crimson, and the sky Holds some new light I know not! Tristram. Through the dusk The way shines clearly that shall lead us on; And who are they who wander hand in hand Within that shadowy wood? Iseult. Ah! take this hand. Tristram. It healed me once! I do remember well. Iseult. And wounded thee again. Yea, past all cure! [TRISTRAM takes her hand. Tristram. Nay, but 'tis marble-white. Its touch is cold! Then it WAS d**h that lay within that cup! Yet, were it here, I'd drink of it again To win thy love again. [He falls backward, and ISEULT throws herself on his breast. Iseult. This is not d**h! Where art thou now that bade me call on thee? "Whom thou hast healed him thou shalt wound again!" Yea, all stands clear at last. This wound is mine! Yet that was not the end! Where art thou now? [The first sound of the Chorus is heard softly, and ISEULT listens. Hark, she has heard! Across the foaming floor She draws toward me now as once before. [Chorus of SPIRITS.] Whiter than the moon are her hands that shall enfold him. Darker than the night is that land wherein she dwells! Thither shall we bear him, and there thine eyes behold him. There, when all is ended in the last of last farewells. [While the Chorus is heard the stage completely darkens and the scene changes to the final tableau. During this change, which is conducted to the accompaniment of the spirit voices, from the hollow of the pool behind the two figures of TRISTRAM and ISEULT rises the form of ISEULT OF THE WHITE HANDS, whose figure is lit by a single shaft of light. When the change is complete the bank upon which they are reclining forms a jutting head of land that is backed by a wide expanse of moonlit sea, and the ghostly ISEULT is seen bending over the prostrate forms of the two LOVERS, her white arms and hands outstretched in the moonlight. Vision. Iseult! Iseult! [ISEULT raises her head as though awakened from a dream. Iseult. I see those white hands now. All else is dark! Vision. Did'st think I had forgot? Whom thou hast healed, him shalt thou wound again," "Whom thou hast wounded, I alone can cure." [TRISTRAM half raises himself as though in a trance. Tristram. The cure is here at last! Look where the sea Breaks into flower and all the whitened foam Is strewn with blossom—Spring is here again! Is this our Cornish land? Vision. Nay, this pale shore Lies far beyond all land, beyond the sea Where all ships run for Haven at the last! Tristram. What sail comes o'er those seas? Dost cry 'tis black? Nay, look again! It shines as white as snow, And there, beside the mast, I see that face That was the world to me! Iseult. Nay, I am here. And d**h and Love are one! For those white hands Have brought me healing too. [She falls dying beside him. Tristram. Iseult! Iseult! For all Love's wounds there is no cure but d**h! [He sinks backwards, and as they lie side by side, the figure of ISEULT OF THE WHITE HANDS above them, the Chorus is softly repeated as the curtain slowly descends. CURTAIN.