Sar. Thy father.

Alb. Who? That--that my father?

Tell. My boy! my boy! my own brave boy!

He's safe! (Aside.)

Sar. (Aside to Gesler.) They're like each other.

Ges. Yet I see no sign Of recognition to betray the link Unites a father and his child.

Sar. My lord, I am sure it is his father. Look at them.

That boy did spring from him; or never cast Came from the mold it fitted! It may be A preconcerted thing 'gainst such a chance.

That they survey each other coldly thus.

Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff.

Sar. To a dungeon?

Ges. No; into the court.

Sar. The court, my lord?

Ges. And send To tell the headsman to make ready. Quick!

The slave shall die! You marked the boy?

Sar. I did. He started; 't is his father.

Ges. We shall see. Away with him!

Tell. Stop! Stop!

Ges. What would you?

Tell. Time,-- A little time to call my thoughts together!

Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute.

Tell. Some one, then, to speak with.

Ges. Hence with him!

Tell. A moment! Stop!

Let me speak to the boy.

Ges. Is he thy son?

Tell. And if He were, art thou so lost to nature, as To send me forth to die before his face?

Ges. Well! speak with him.

Now, Sarnem, mark them well.

Tell. Thou dost not know me, boy; and well for thee Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son About thy age. Thou, I see, wast horn, like him, upon the hills: If thou shouldst 'scape thy present thraldom, he May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee Relate to him what has been pa.s.sing here, And say I laid my hand upon thy head, And said to thee, if he were here, as thou art, Thus would I bless him. Mayst thou live, my boy, To see thy country free, or die for her, As I do! (Albert weeps.)

Sar. Mark! he weeps.

Tell. Were he my son, He would not shed a tear! He would remember The cliff where he was bred, and learned to scan A thousand fathoms' depth of nether air; Where he was trained to hear the thunder talk, And meet the lightning, eye to eye; where last We spoke together, when I told him death Bestowed the brightest gem that graces life, Embraced for virtue's sake. He shed a tear!

Now were he by, I'd talk to him, and his cheek Should never blanch, nor moisture dim his eye-- I'd talk to him--

Sar. He falters!

Tell. 'T is too much!

And yet it must be done! I'd talk to him--

Ges. Of what?

Tell. The mother, tyrant, thou dost make A widow of! I'd talk to him of her.

I'd bid him tell her, next to liberty, Her name was the last word my lips p.r.o.nounced.

And I would charge him never to forget To love and cherish her, as he would have His father's dying blessing rest upon him!

Sar. You see, as he doth prompt, the other acts.

Tell. So well he bears it, he doth vanquish me.

My boy! my boy! Oh, for the hills, the hills, To see him bound along their tops again, With liberty.

Sar. Was there not an the father in that look?

Ges. Yet 't is 'gainst nature.

Sar. Not if he believes To own the son would be to make him share The father's death.

Ges. I did not think of that! 'T is well The boy is not thy son. I've destined him To die along with thee.

Tell. To die? For what?

Ges. For having braved my power, as thou hast. Lead them forth.

Tell. He's but a child.

Ges. Away with them!

Tell. Perhaps an only child.

Ges. No matter.

Tell. He may have a mother.

Ges. So the viper hath; And yet, who spares it for the mother's sake?

Tell. I talk to stone! I talk to it as though 'T were flesh; and know 't is none. I'll talk to it No more. Come, my boy; I taught thee how to live, I'll show thee how to die.