ATTINGHAUSEN. First let me share, After the ancient custom of our house, The morning-cup with these my faithful servants! [He drinks from a cup, which is then passed round. Time was I stood myself in field and wood, With mine own eyes directing all their toil, Even as my banner led them in the fight, Now I am only fit to play the steward; And, if the genial sun come not to me, I can no longer seek it on the mountains. Thus slowly, in an ever-narrowing sphere, I move on to the narrowest and the last, Where all life's pulses cease. I now am but The shadow of my former self, and that Is fading fast--'twill soon be but a name. KUONI (offering RUDENZ the cup). A pledge, young master! [RUDENZ hesitates to take the cup. Nay, sir, drink it off! One cup, one heart! You know our proverb, sir! ATTINGHAUSEN. Go, children, and at eve, when work is done, We'll meet and talk the country's business over. [Exeunt Servants. Belted and plumed, and all thy bravery on! Thou art for Altdorf--for the castle, boy? RUDENZ. Yes, uncle. Longer may I not delay---- ATTINGHAUSEN (sitting down). Why in such haste? Say, are thy youthful hours Doled in such niggard measure that thou must Be chary of then to thy aged uncle? RUDENZ. I see, my presence is not needed here, I am but as a stranger in this house. ATTINGHAUSEN (gazes fixedly at him for a considerable time). Alas, thou art indeed! Alas, that home To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly! I scarce do know thee now, thus decked in silks, The peacock's feather [9] flaunting in thy cap, And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung; Thou lookest upon the peasant with disdain, And takest with a blush his honest greeting. RUDENZ. All honor due to him I gladly pay, But must deny the right he would usurp. ATTINGHAUSEN. The sore displeasure of the king is resting Upon the land, and every true man's heart Is full of sadness for the grievous wrongs We suffer from our tyrants. Thou alone Art all unmoved amid the general grief. Abandoning thy friends, thou takest thy stand Beside thy country's foes, and, as in scorn Of our distress, pursuest giddy joys, Courting the smiles of princes, all the while Thy country bleeds beneath their cruel scourge. RUDENZ. The land is sore oppressed; I know it, uncle. But why? Who plunged it into this distress? A word, one little easy word, might buy Instant deliverance from such dire oppression, And win the good-will of the emperor. Woe unto those who seal the people's eyes, And make them adverse to their country's good; The men who, for their own vile, selfish ends, Are seeking to prevent the Forest States From swearing fealty to Austria's house, As all the countries round about have done. It fits their humor well, to take their seats Amid the nobles on the Herrenbank; [10] They'll have the Caesar for their lord, forsooth, That is to say, they'll have no lord at all. ATTINGHAUSEN. Must I hear this, and from thy lips, rash boy!