Ver. Nestling as he is, he is the making of a bird Will own no cowering wing. (Re-enter Albert.) Alb. Now, Verner, look! (Shoots.) There's within An inch! Ver. Oh fy! it wants a hand. Alb. A hand's (Exit Verner.) An inch for me. I'll hit it yet. Now for it! (While Albert continues to shoot, Tell enters and watches him some time, in silence.) Tell. That's scarce a miss that comes so near the mark! Well aimed, young archer! With what ease he bends The bow! To see those sinews, who'd believe Such strength did lodge in them? That little arm, His mother's palm can span, may help, anon, And from their chains a prostrate people lift Living to see that day! What, Albert! Alb. Ah! My father! Too fast. (Albert continues shooting.) Tell. You're not steady. I perceived Stand firm. Let every limb Be braced as marble, and as motionless. 'Twas easy to say that. Suppose you, now, Your life or his depended on that shot! Take care! That's Gesler!-Now for liberty! Right to the tyrant's heart! (Hits the mark.) Well done my boy! Come here. How early were you up? Alb. Before the sun. Tell. Ay, strive with him. He never lies abed When it is time to rise. Be like the sun. Alb. What you would have me like, I'll be like, As far as will to labor joined can make me. Tell. Well said, my boy! Knelt you when you got up To-day? Alb. I did; and do so every day. Tell. I know you do! And think To whom you kneel? you, when you kneel, Alb. To Him who made me, father. Tell. The name of Him who died For me and all men, that all men and I Should live. Tell. That's right. Remember that, my son: Forget all things but that-remember that! "Tis more than friends or fortune; clothing, food; To live, when these are gone, where they are nought- Alb. I will. Tell. I'm glad you value what you're taught. He who finds which, has all-who misses, nothing. Tell. A thing, the good But go, Albert, Reach thy cap and wallet, and thy mountain staff. Alone can profit by. Don't keep me waiting. (Tell paces the stage in thought. Alb. I am ready, father. Tell. (Taking Albert by the hand.) Dost thou fear the snow, (Exit Albert.) Re-enter Albert.) Now mark me, Albert! The ice-field, or the hail flaw? Carest thou for And it doth burst around thee? Thou must travel Tell. The mountains are to cross, for thou must reach Mount Faigel by the dawn. Examine well the crevice. Do not trust the snow! 'Tis well there is a moon to-night. That leg's untied; stoop down and fasten it. You know the point where you must round the cliff? I do. Tell. Thy belt is slack-draw it tight. Eaglet of my heart! The land was free! and look And bless him that it was so. It was free From end to end, from cliff to lake-'twas free! Its very storms. I have sat at midnight The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge Exit Albert.) SELECTION XXIV. PRINCE ARTHUR-HUBERT-ATTENDANTS.- -Shakspeare. Hubert. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras; when I strike my foot, Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, And bind the boy, which you shall find with me, First Attendant. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look to it.— (Exeunt Attendants.) Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. (Enter Arthur.) Arthur. Good-morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good-morrow, little prince. Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince) as may be ;-You are sad. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. Arth. Mercy on me! Methinks nobody should be sad but I: Is it my fault that I were Geoffrey's son? That I might sit all night, and watch with you. I warrant I love you more than you do me. Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.— Read here, young Arthur. (Showing a paper.) How now foolish rheum! (Aside.) Turning dispiteous torture out the door! I must be brief; lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub. Young boy, I must. Arth. And will you? Hub. And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again: And with my hand at midnight held your head, If heaven be pleased that you should use me ill, Hub. I have sworn to do it; And with hot irons must I burn them out. my tears, Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it: Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron? And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, (Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, &c.) Do as I bid you. Arth. Oh, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out, Even with the fierce looks of the bloody men. Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, |