lips.

MARK (cries out in a muffled voice).
Iseult!

ISEULT.
I'll kiss thy hand, my Lord, and I--

DENOVALIN.
Who says, proud Queen Iseult, the man I saw
Was Tristram, noble Lord of Lyonesse?

ISEULT (her voice becomes proud and cold).
My Lord Denovalin, I'll kiss thy hands
If thou wilt say my husband's nephew stood
And bided you, for sorely would it vex
My heart if such a knight should flee from such
A man as thou! 'Twould shame me much, for know,
My Lord Denovalin, I scorn and hate
Thee as a cur!

DENOVALIN (suppressing his emotion).
If Tristram stood or fled
From me, I do not say.

ISEULT.
That vexes me
Indeed, for now, my Lords, I turn to you
With deeper and more serious complaints
Against Lord Tristram that so rashly he
Has broken Mark's decree, thus forcing me
To share a guilt of which my soul is clean!

MARK (crouches on the steps of the throne groaning).
Oh see how well her Irish tongue can twist
Her words to suit her will! Her words are smooth;
So smooth that when one grasps them they escape
The hand like shining, slippery, squirming snakes!
And she has subtle words, caressing words,
And words that set the mind on fire; hot words
That burn, and haughty ones that swell and puff
Like stallions' nostrils, and toss high their heads!
Oh she has words, and words, and many words
With which to frame her lies!

(He takes a step toward ISEULT. Angrily.)

And see her eyes!
Those wondrous eyes! Eyes for deceit! She has
Deceived me with those eyes and lips of hers since first
She set her foot upon the Cornish shore!

ISEULT (trembling with shame and anger).
Thy words are like the shame of women, Mark!
Like filthy hands! Irish I am, but there,
In word and deed, polite restraint prevails
And courteous measuredness; there fiery wrath
Becomes ne'er master of the man! And so
I was not taught in early youth to guard
Myself from drunkenness of wrath!

MARK.
O hark!
That was a sample of her haughty words!
Iseult the Goldenhaired of Ireland
Didst thou with thine own hand and blood sign this?

ISEULT.
Ay, Mark, I signed t