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—"