Tristan and Isolda

it waveth landwards aloft:

in Mark's ancestral castle

may our approach be seen.

So, dame Isolda,

he prays to hasten,

for land straight to prepare her,

that thither he may bear her.

ISOLDA (who has at first cowered and shuddered on hearing the

message, now speaks calmly and with dignity). My greeting take

unto your lord

and tell him what I say now:

Should he assist to land me

and to King Mark would he hand me,

unmeet and unseemly

were his act,

the while my pardon

was not won

for trespass black and base:

So bid him seek my grace.

(KURVENALmakes a gesture of defiance.)

Now mark me well,

This message take:-

Nought will I yet prepare me,

that he to land may bear me;

I will not by him be landed,

nor unto King Mark be handed

ere granting forgiveness

and forgetfulness,

which 'tis seemly

he should seek:-

for all his trespass base

I tender him my grace.

KURVENAL.

Be assured,

I'll bear your words:

we'll see what he will say!

(He retires quickly.)

SCENE V.

ISOLDA (hurries toBRANGAENAand embraces her vehemently).

Now farewell, Brangaena!

Greet ev'ry one,

Greet my father and mother!

BRANGAENA.

What now? what mean'st thou?

Wouldst thou flee?

And where must I then follow?

ISOLDA (checking herself suddenly).

Here I remain:

heard you not?

Tristan will I await.-

I trust in thee

to aid in this:

prepare the true

cup of peace:

thou mindest how it is made.

BRANGAENA.

What meanest thou?

ISOLDA (taking a bottle from the coffer).

This it is!

From the flask go pour

this philtre out;

yon golden goblet 'twill fill.

BRANGAENA (filled with terror receiving the flask).

Trust I my wits?

ISOLDA.

Wilt thou be true?

BRANGAENA.

The draught-for whom?

ISOLDA. Him who betrayed!

BRANGAENA. Tristan?

ISOLDA. Truce he'll drink with me.

BRANGAENA (throwing herself atISOLDA'S feet). O horror!

Pity thy handmaid!

ISOLDA. Pity thou me,

false-hearted maid!

Mindest thou not

my mother's arts?

Think you that she

who'd mastered those

would have sent thee o'er the sea

without assistance for me?

A salve for sickness

doth she offer

and antidotes

for deadly drugs:

for deepest grief

and woe supreme

gave she the draught of death.

Let Death now give her thanks!

BRANGAENA (scarcely able to control herself). O deepest

grief!

ISOLDA. Now, wilt thou obey?

BRANGAENA. O woe supreme!

ISOLDA. Wilt thou be true?

BRANGAENA. The draught?

KURVENAL (entering). Sir Tristan!