_Ges._ Thou dost hear the choice I give-- Such trial of the skill thou art master of, Or death to both of you; not otherwise To be escaped. _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. PERSONS.--_Enter, slowly, People in evident distress--Officers, Sarnem, Gesler, Tell, Albert, and soldiers--one bearing Tell’s bow and quiver, another with a basket of apples._ _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.