Landgrave.
Wolfram is right; a truce to jest to-day.
The dogs are loose. Ride forward, gentlemen!
[Amid the winding of horns and cries of the
huntsmen the company moves off.
Heinrich.
They hate his very name! Dear Tannhäuser!
[Exit.
ACT IV.
“So, force is sorrow, and each sorrow, force: