We'll help you. What's the matter? Down with them!

[HILDEGARD, MECHTHILD _and_ ELSBETH _return_.]

TELL.

Go, go, good people, I can help myself.

Think you, had I a mind to use my strength, These pikes of theirs should daunt me?

MELCHTHAL (_to_ FRIESSHARDT).

Only try-- Try from our midst to force him, if you dare.

FuRST _and_ STAUFFACHER.

Peace, peace, friends!

FRIESSHARDT (_loudly_).

Riot! Insurrection, ho!

[_Hunting-horns without_.]

WOMEN.

The Governor!

FRIESSHARDT _(raising his voice_).

Rebellion! Mutiny!

STAUFF.

Roar till you burst, knave!

RoSSELMANN _and_ MELCHTHAL.

Will you hold your tongue?

FRIESSHARDT (_calling still louder_).

Help, help, I say, the servants of the law!

FuRST.

The Viceroy here! Then we shall smart for this!

[_Enter_ GESSLER _on horseback, with a falcon on his wrist_: RUDOLPH DER HARRAS, BERTHA, _and_ RUDENZ, _and a numerous train of armed attendants, who form a circle of lances round the whole stage_.]

HARRAS.

Room for the Viceroy!

GESSLER.

Drive the clowns apart.

Why throng the people thus? Who calls for help?

[_General silence_.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: TELL AND GESSLER As performed at the Royal Theatre, Dresden, 1906.]

Who was it? I _will_ know.

[FRIESSHARDT _steps forward_.]

And who art thou?

And why hast thou this man in custody?

[_Gives his falcon to an attendant_.]

FRIESS.

Dread sir, I am a soldier of your guard, And station'd sentinel beside the cap; This man I apprehended in the act Of pa.s.sing it without obeisance due; So as you ordered, I arrested him, Whereupon to rescue him the people tried.

GESSLER (_after a pause_).

And do you, Tell, so lightly hold your King, And me, who act as his vice-regent here, That you refuse obeisance to the cap, I hung aloft to test your loyalty?

I read in this a disaffected spirit.

TELL.

Pardon me, good my lord! The action sprung From inadvertence--not from disrespect.

Were I discreet, I were not William Tell.

Forgive me now--I'll not offend again.

GESSLER (_after a pause_).

I hear, Tell, you're a master with the bow-- From every rival bear the palm away.

WALTER.

That's very truth, sir! At a hundred yards He'll shoot an apple for you off the tree.

GESSLER.

Is that boy thine, Tell?

TELL.