Tannhäuser

Landgrave. Blaspheme not ! Dare not to insult the sign Of our Redemption ! Gentlemen and peers, What say you ? shall he live to boast himself, The abandoned, perjured, the apostate soul. Daring to come to our pure court to brag Of his incredible vileness ? To link up The saintly purity of this my child With his seducer's heart of hell ! My voice ! Death ! Your cry echoes me ? Voices. Death ! Death ! Tannhauser. Leap out, Sword of my fathers ! you have heard my harp ! Its music stings your vile hypocrisy Into mere hatred. Truth is terrible ! You, cousin, taken in adultery ! You, Wolfram, lover of the kitchen maids ! You, Jerome —yes, I know your secret deeds ! 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 ! 123