I, a maid, must needs requite it.—­
Weak and maimed,
when might was mine,
why at thy death did I pause? 
Thou shalt know the secret cause.—­
Thy hurts I tended
that, when sickness ended,
thou shouldst fall by some man,
as Isolda’s revenge should plan. 
But now attempt
thy fate to foretell me?
if their friendship all men do sell thee,
what foe can seek to fell thee?

TRISTAN (pale and gloomy, offers her his sword).  If thou so lovedst this lord, then lift once more my sword, nor from thy purpose refrain; let the weapon not fail again.

ISOLDA.  Put up thy sword which once I swung, when vengeful rancor my bosom wrung, when thy masterful eyes did ask me straight whether King Mark might seek me for mate.  The sword harmless descended.—­ Drink, let our strife be ended!

(ISOLDA beckons BRANGAENA. She trembles and hesitates to obey.  ISOLDA commands her with a more imperious gesture.  BRANGAENA sets about preparing the drink.)

VOICES OF THE CREW (without).  Ho! heave ho! hey! 
Reduce the sail! 
The foresail in! 
Ho! heave ho! hey!

TRISTAN (starting from his gloomy brooding).  Where are we?

ISOLDA.  Near to shore. 
Tristan, is warfare ended? 
Hast not a word to offer?

TRISTAN (darkly).  Concealment’s mistress
makes me silent: 
I know what she conceals,
conceal, too, more than she knows.

ISOLDA.  Thy silence nought
but feigning I deem. 
Friendship wilt thou still deny?

(Renewed cries of the Sailors.)

(At an impatient sign from ISOLDA BRANGAENA hands her the filled cup.)

ISOLDA (advancing with the cup to TRISTAN, who gazes
immovably into her eyes). 
Thou hear’st the cry? 
The shore’s in sight: 
we must ere long (with slight scorn)
stand by King Mark together.

SAILORS (without).  Haul the warp! 
Anchor down!

TRISTAN (starting wildly).  Down with the anchor! 
Her stern to the stream! 
The sails a-weather the mast!

(He takes the cup from ISOLDA.)

I know the Queen of Ireland well, unquestioned are her magic arts:  the balsam cured me which she brought; now bid me quaff the cup, that I may quite recover.  Heed to my all—­ atoning oath, which in return I tender Tristan’s honor—­ highest truth!  Tristan’s anguish—­ brave distress!  Traitor spirit, dawn-illumined!  Endless trouble’s only truce!  Oblivion’s kindly draught, with rapture thou art quaff’d!

(He lifts the cup and drinks.)

ISOLDA.  Betrayed e’en here? 
I must halve it!—­

(She wrests the cup from his hand.)

Betrayer, I drink to thee!

[She drinks, and then throws away the cup.  Both, seized with shuddering, gaze with deepest emotion, but immovable demeanor, into one another’s eyes, in which the expression of defiance to death fades and melts into the glow of passion.  Trembling seizes them, they convulsively clutch their hearts and pass their hands over their brows.  Their glances again seek to meet, sink in confusion, and once more turn with growing longing upon one another.]