Tell. O monster!

Ges. Wilt thou do it?

Albert. He will! he will!

Tell. Ferocious monster!—Make
A father murder his own child.

Ges. Take off
His chains, if he consent.

Tell. With his own hand!

Ges. Does he consent?

Alb. He does. [Gesler signs to his officers, who proceed
to take off Tell’s chains. Tell all the time unconscious
what they do.]

Tell. With his own hand!
Murder his child with his own hand—This hand!
The hand I’ve led him, when an infant, by!
’Tis beyond horror—’tis most horrible.
Amazement! [His chains fall off.] What’s that you’ve done to me.
Villains! put on my chains again. My hands
Are free from blood, and have no gust for it,
That they should drink my child’s! Here! here! I’ll not
Murder my boy for Gesler.

Alb. Father—father!
You will not hit me, father!—

Tell. Hit thee!—Send
The arrow through thy brain—or, missing that,
Shoot out an eye—or, if thine eye escape,
Mangle the cheek I’ve seen thy mother’s lips
Cover with kisses!—Hit thee—hit a hair
Of thee, and cleave thy mother’s heart—

Ges. Dost thou consent?

Tell. Give me my bow and quiver.

Ges. For what?

Tell. To shoot my boy!

Alb. No, father—no!
To save me!—You’ll be sure to hit the apple—
Will you not save me, father?

Tell. Lead me forth—
I’ll make the trial!

Alb. Thank you!

Tell. Thank me! Do
You know for what?—I will not make the trial,
To take him to his mother in my arms,
And lay him down a corpse before her!

Ges. Then he dies this moment—and you certainly
Do murder him whose life you have a chance
To save, and will not use it.

Tell. Well—I’ll do it: I’ll make the trial.

Alb. Father—

Tell. Speak not to me:
Let me not hear thy voice—Thou must be dumb;
And so should all things be—Earth should be dumb
And Heaven—unless its thunders muttered at
The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it! Give me
My bow and quiver!—

Ges. When all’s ready.

Tell. Well! lead on!

Scene II.

Ges. That is your ground. Now shall they measure thence
A hundred paces. Take the distance.

Tell. Is the line a true one?

Ges. True or not, what is’t to thee?

Tell. What is’t to me? A little thing,
A very little thing—a yard or two
Is nothing here or there—were it a wolf
I shot at! Never mind.

Ges. Be thankful, slave,
Our grace accords thee life on any terms.

Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler!—Villain, stop!
You measure to the sun!

Ges. And what of that?
What matter whether to or from the sun?

Tell. I’d have it at my back—the sun should shine
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots.
I cannot see to shoot against the sun—
I will not shoot against the sun!

Ges. Give him his way! Thou hast cause to bless my mercy.

Tell. I shall remember it. I’d like to see
The apple I’m to shoot at.

Ges. Stay! show me the basket!—there—

Tell. You’ve picked the smallest one.

Ges. I know I have.

Tell. O! do you?—But you see
The color on’t is dark—I’d have it light,
To see it better.

Ges. Take it as it is:
Thy skill will be the greater if thou hit’st it.

Tell. True—true! I did not think of that—I wonder
I did not think of that—Give me some chance
To save my boy! [Throws away the apple with all his force.]
I will not murder him,
If I can help it—for the honor of
The form thou wearest, if all the heart is gone.

Ges. Well, choose thyself.

Tell. Have I a friend among the lookers on?

Verner. [Rushing forward.] Here, Tell!

Tell. I thank thee, Verner!
He is a friend runs out into a storm
To shake a hand with us. I must be brief:
When once the bow is bent, we cannot take
The shot too soon. Verner, whatever be
The issue of this hour, the common cause
Must not stand still. Let not to-morrow’s sun
Set on the tyrant’s banner! Verner! Verner!
The boy!—the boy! Thinkest thou he hath the courage
To stand it.

Ver. Yes.

Tell. How looks he?

Ver. Clear and smilingly:
If you doubt it—look