Volume 20 / Act 4 — SCENE VI
Reading edition
Ugrin. Ay, so they are! "Whip, whip the fool!" We wrack Our weary brains to make a jest and then, In payment, we are whipped if they so feel Inclined! They treat us more like dogs than men!
[He goes to the table where the food stands, and takes a bite.]
Art hungry, brother? Wait, I'll bring my cloak. For thou art cold.
[He draws a cloak from under the stairs.]
'Tis here, beneath the stairs, I sleep.—A very kennel! 'Tis a shame.
[He eats again.]
Wilt thou not eat a morsel of what's left Upon the table here? Nor drink a drop? 'Tis not forbidden, friend; our cousin lets Us eat and drink of what is left.
[He goes into the middle of the hall and bends down to look into the Strange Jester's face.]
Art sad Dear brother? Speak to me! Come, come, look not So sorrowful!
[Bending over the corpse of the dead Knight.]
This man is colder still Than thou! Art thou afraid? He'll not awake.
[Comes close to the Strange Jester.]
I'll wrap thee close within my cloak that thou May'st sleep. Dost thou not wish to sleep! Why then I'll sing a song to make thee sleep. Alas! I know but joyous, silly songs! Come lay Thee down.
[He sits on the bench and draws the head upon his lap.]
Thou look'st not happy, brother. Hast A sorrow? Tell it me; here canst thou rest At ease, and I will sing a song. Thou seemst A child to whom one must sing songs to make It sleep. I'll sing the song that Queen Iseult Is wont to sing at even when she thinks Of Tristram, her dear friend, sitting beside Her open casement. 'Tis a pretty song.
[With bowed head and closed eyes he hums very softly as if in his sleep. The body of the Strange Jester under the black cloak that covers it is shaken by sobs of anguish.]
"Lord Tristram, my friend, is unfaithful, And God's wrath on him shall descend; Though cruelly he has betrayed me—"