ear on horseback at the upper end of
the pass_.]

STUSSI (_to_ FRIESSHARDT).

How got ye through the stream,
When all the bridges have been carried down?

FRIESS.

We've fought, friend, with the tempest on the lake;
An Alpine torrent's nothing after that.

STUSSI.

How! Were you out, then, in that dreadful storm?

FRIESS.

We were! I'll not forget it while I live.

STUSSI.

Stay, speak--

FRIESS.

I can't--must to the castle haste,
And tell them, that the governor's at hand.

[_Exit_.]

STUSSI.

If honest men, now, had been in the ship,
It had gone down with every soul on board:--
Some folks are proof 'gainst fire and water both.

[_Looking round_.]

Where has the huntsman gone with whom I spoke?

[_Exit_.]

_Enter_ GESSLER _and_ RUDOLPH DER HARRAS _on horseback_

GESSLER.

Say what you will; I am the Emperor's liege,
And how to please him my first thought must be.
He did not send me here to fawn and cringe,
And coax these boors into good humor. No!
Obedience he must have. The struggle's this:
Is king or peasant to be sovereign here?

ARMGART.

Now is the moment! Now for my petition!

GESSLER.

'Twas not in sport that I set up the cap
In Altdorf--or to try the people's hearts--
All this I knew before. I set it up
That they might learn to bend those stubborn necks
They carry far too proudly--and I placed
What well I knew their pride could never brook
Full in the road, which they perforce must pass,
That, when their eye fell on it, they might call
That lord to mind whom they too much forget.

HARRAS.

But surely, sir, the people have some rights--

GESSLER.

This is no time to settle what they are.
Great projects are at work, and hatching now.
The Imperial house seeks to extend its power.
Those vast designs of conquest which the sire
Has gloriously begun, the son will end.
This petty nation is a stumbling-block--
One way or other, it must be put down.

[_They are about to pass on_. ARMGART _throws herself down
before_ GESSLER.]

ARMGART.

Mercy, lord governor! Oh, pardon, pardon!

GESSLER.

Why do you cross me on the public road?
Stand back, I say.

ARMGART.

My husband lies in prison;
My wretched orphans cry for bread. Have pity,
Pity, my lord, upon our sore distress!

HARRAS.

Who are you? and your husband, what is he?

ARMGA