2d Baron.
He'd laugh!
Iseult (trembling with anger).
Let not thy nephew Tristram's knightly fame
And noble name serve as a mockery
To such a ghoul!
Mark (gaily).
Forgive me, fair Iseult;
And yet it makes me laugh to think that this
Poor fool went mad from thinking that he was
My noble nephew Tristram. Speak, thou toy of fate,
Wast thou Lord Tristram once!
Str. Jester (almost timidly).
Ay, Mark, I was;
And often was I with Iseult, thy wife!
Forgive it me! [Laughter.]
Iseult.
Dost thou permit that he
Should heap such insults on thy wife's fair
name?
Mark (gaily).
Heed not his words; the people love such jests.
(To the jester.)
Give us a sign, Sir Fool.
Ugrin.
A sign! A sign!
1st Baron.
Ay, let the fool describe the Queen. Give ear.
Ugrin.
'Twill be a royal sport! And first he shall
Describe her feet! Speak on!