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. FÜRST _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! RÖSSELMANN _and_ MELCHTHAL. Will you hold your tongue? FRIESSHARDT (_calling still louder_). Help, help, I say, the servants of the law! FÜRST. 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_.] [Illustration: 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 passing 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. Yes, my gracious lord. GESSLER. Hast any more of them? TELL. Two boys, my lord. GESSLER. And, of the two, which dost thou love the most? TELL. Sir, both the boys are dear to me alike. GESSLER.