FURST. Give him your hands, my friends! A heart like his That sees and owns its error claims our trust. MELCHTHAL. You ever held the peasantry in scorn; What surety have we that you mean us fair? RUDENZ. Oh, think not of the error of my youth! STAUFFACHER (to MELCHTHAL). Be one! They were our father's latest words. See they be not forgotten! Take my hand,-- A peasant's hand,--and with it, noble Sir, The gage and the assurance of a man! Without us, sir, what would the nobles be? Our order is more ancient, too, than yours! RUDENZ. I honor it, and with my sword will shield it! MELCHTHAL. The arm, my lord, that tames the stubborn earth, And makes its bosom blossom with increase, Can also shield a man's defenceless breast. RUDENZ. Then you shall shield my breast and I will yours; Thus each be strengthened by the others' aid! Yet wherefore talk we while our native land Is still to alien tyranny a prey? First let us sweep the foeman from the soil, Then reconcile our difference in peace! [After a moment's pause. How! You are silent! Not a word for me? And have I yet no title to your trust? Then must I force my way, despite your will, Into the league you secretly have formed. You've held a Diet on the Rootli,--I Know this,--know all that was transacted there! And though I was not trusted with your secret, I still have kept it like a sacred pledge. Trust me, I never was my country's foe, Nor would I ever have ranged myself against you! Yet you did wrong to put your rising off. Time presses! We must strike, and swiftly, too! Already Tell has fallen a sacrifice To your delay. STAUFFACHER. We swore to wait till Christmas. RUDENZ. I was not there,--I did not take the oath. If you delay I will not! MELCHTHAL. What! You would---- RUDENZ. I count me now among the country's fathers, And to protect you is my foremost duty. FURST. Within the earth to lay these dear remains, That is your nearest and most sacred duty. RUDENZ. When we have set the country free, we'll place Our fresh, victorious wreaths upon his bier. Oh, my dear friends, 'tis not your cause alone! I have a cause to battle with the tyrants That more concerns myself. Know, that my Bertha Has disappeared,--been carried off by stealth, Stolen from amongst us by their ruffian bands! STAUFFACHER. And has the tyrant dared so fell an outrage Against a lady free and nobly born? RUDENZ. Alas! my friends, I promised help to you, And I must first implore it for myself? She that I love is stolen--is forced away, And who knows where the tyrant has concealed her. Or with what outrages his ruffian crew May force her into nuptials she detests? Forsake me not! Oh help me to her rescue! She loves you! Well, oh well, has she deserved That all should rush to arms in her behalf. STAUFFACHER. What course do you propose?