Collected Works (Vol. I)

TANNHAUSER 257 You, ladies! Are your faces painted thus Not to hide wrinkles of debauchery? To catch new lovers? LANDGRAVE. Stop the lying mouth! Friends, your sword-service ! TANNHAUSER. Will they answer you? My arm is weary as your souls are not Of beastliness: I have drawn my father’s sword, Hard as your virtue is the easy sort, Heavy to handle as your loves are light, Smooth as your lies, and sharper than your hates ! I know you! Cowards to the very bone! [Driving them out. Who fights me, of this sworded company? Cannot my words have sting in them enough, Now, to make one of you turn suddenly And stab me from behind? Out, out with you ! Fling-to the doors! So, Iam master ! A murrain on the curs! THE UNKNOWN MINSTREL, Well and merrily done ! But look you to the lady ; she has swooned. TANNHAUSER. Who are you, sir, stood smiling, nonchalant, At all the turmoil, ridiculing it ? | You knew the secret symbol of my life, You forced me to that miserable song. THE UNKNOWN MINSTREL. My name, sir, at your service, is Sefchift. TANNHAUSER. Sent? And the purpose of your coming here? You must. wield power to keep them silent so, When the first word had culminated else In twice the tempest echoed to the last! VOL. I. THE UNKNOWN MINSTREL. It was most necessary for yourself To formulate your thought in Fnough— The thought transmuted in the very act. word. TANNHAUSER. You know? You know! The new illusion gone! Bitter, O bitter will it be to say ! THE UNKNOWN MINSTREL. Due grace and courage will be found for you. Farewell, Tannhauser ! TANNHAUSER. Shall we meet again? THE UNKNOWN MINSTREL. There is one glamour you must wreathe in gloom Before you come to the dark hill of dreams. TANNHAUSER. My soul is sick of riddling. Fare you well! [A.xz2¢ THE UNKNOWN MINSTREL. Wake, wake, poor child, poor child, Eliza- beth! ELIZABETH. What says my dear one? I have been with God. TANNHAUSER (as7de). How shall I speak? A violent good-bye, As one distraught, ashamed? I had unbared My bosom to these folk, but the sole pride, My father’s gift-——to be a gentleman— Forbade the dying, welcome otherwise, At any despicable hands as theirs. They, they might boast—-we hundred swords or So Set on the mivhty Tannhduser, and slew him. We, scarceanhundred! Yes, believe tt, sirs R