Alb. He's by the torrent, too. Alb. He will be with a child. Ges. You are sure you know the way? Alb 'Tis but to keep the side of yonder stream. Ges But guide me safe, I'll give thee gold. All I'll guide thee safe without. Ges. Here's earnest for thee. Here - I'll double that ΣΙ Yea, triple it but let me see the gate of Altorf. Why do you refuse the gold? Take it. Alb. This is the way to Altorf, sir. Ges. I would know thy father's name. Alb. The day is wasting we have far to go. Alb. I will not tell it thee. Ges. Not tell it me! Why? Alb. You may be an enemy of his. Ges. May be a friend. Alb. May be; but should you be An enemy - although I would not tell you My father's name, I would guide you safe to Altorf. Ges. Never mind thy father's name; What would it profit me to know it? Thy hand; Alb. I never had an enemy. Ges. Lead on. All. Advance your staff As you descend, and fix it well. Come on. Ges. What! must we take that steep? Alb. 'Tis nothing! Come, (The Gate of Altorf.· Enter Gesler and Albert. Albert. You are at the gate of Altorf. Gesler. Tarry, boy! Alb. I would be gone; I am waited for. Ges. Come back; Who waits for thee? Come, tell me; I am rich And powerful, and can reward. Alb. 'Tis close Ges. Why fear you, then, To trust me with your father's name? - Speak. Alb. Why do you desire to know it? Gcs. You have served me, And I would thank him, if I chanced to pass His dwelling. Alb. "Twould not please him that a service But let me go. Ges. When I have learned from thee Thy father's name. What, ho! Soldier. (Within.) Who's there? Ges. Gesler. Alb. Ha, Gesler! (Knocks.) Ges. (To soldiers.) Seize him! Wilt thou tell me Ges. I can bid them strangle thee! Wilt tell it ? Alb. Never. Ges. Away with him! Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man! Ges. What should I seem? Teli. A monster ! Ges. Ha! Beware think on thy chains! Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up, Erect, with nothing but the honest pride Of telling thee, usurper to thy teeth, Thou art a monster! - Think upon my chains? Ges. Darest thou question me? Tell. Darest thou not answer? Ges. Do I hear? Tell. Thou dost. Ges. Beware my vengeance! It cannot take away the grace of life, Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues Ges. But it can make thee writhe! Tell. It may. Ges. And groan! Tell. It may; and I may cry Go on, though it should make me groan again. Ges. Whence comest thou? Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn What news from them? Ges. Canst tell me any? Tell. Ay! they watch no more the avalanche." Ges. Why so? Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane Comes unawares upon them; from its bed The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track. Ges. What do they then? Tell. Thank Heaven it is not thou! Thou hast perverted nature in them. There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but The thought of thee doth wither to a curse! Ges. Toa's right! I'd have them like their hills, That never saile, though wanton summer tempt them Ever so nuch. Tell. But they do sometimes smile. Ges. Ay!-- when is that? Tell. When they do talk of vengeance. Ges. Vengeance! Dare they talk of that? Tel. Ay, and expect it too. Ges. From whence? Tell. From Heaven! Ges. From Heaven? Tell. And their true hands Are lifted up to it on every hill For justice on thee! J. S. KNOWLES. CII. CONFESSIONS OF A BASHFUL MAN. PART FIRST. 1. You must know that in my person I am tall and thin with a fair complexion, and light flaxen hair; but of such extreme sensibility to shame, that, on the smallest subject of confusion, my blood all rushes into my cheeks. Having been sent to the university, the consciousness of my unhappy failing made me avoid society, and I became enamored of a college life. But from that peaceful retreat I was called by the deaths of my father and of a rich uncle, who left me a fortune of thirty thousand pounds. 2. I now purchased an estate in the country; and my company was much courted by the surrounding families, especially by such as had marriageable daughters. Though I wished to accept their offered friendship, I was forced repeatedly to excuse myself, under the pretence of not being quite settled. Often, when I have ridden or walked with full intention of returning their visits, my heart has failed me as I approached their gates, and I have returned homeward, resolving to try again the next day. Determined, however, at length to conquer my timidity, I accepted of an invitation to dine with one, whose open, easy nanner left me no room to doubt a cordial welcome. |