The Works of Frederick Schiller - LightNovelsOnl.com
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What are the hosts of emperors to him!
Gertrude, farewell! I will to Uri straight.
There lives my worthy comrade, Walter Furst, His thoughts and mine upon these times are one.
There, too, resides the n.o.ble Banneret Of Attinghaus. High though of blood he be, He loves the people, honors their old customs.
With both of these I will take counsel how To rid us bravely of our country's foe.
Farewell! and while I am away, bear thou A watchful eye in management at home.
The pilgrim journeying to the house of G.o.d, And pious monk, collecting for his cloister, To these give liberally from purse and garner.
Stauffacher's house would not be hid. Right out Upon the public way it stands, and offers To all that pa.s.s an hospitable roof.
[While they are retiring, TELL enters with BAUMGARTEN.
TELL.
Now, then, you have no further need of me.
Enter yon house. 'Tis Werner Stauffacher's, A man that is a father to distress.
See, there he is himself! Come, follow me.
[They retire up. Scene changes.
SCENE III.
A common near Altdorf. On an eminence in the background a castle in progress of erection, and so far advanced that the outline of the whole may be distinguished. The back part is finished; men are working at the front. Scaffolding, on which the workmen are going up and down. A slater is seen upon the highest part of the roof.-- All is bustle and activity.
TASKMASTER, MASON, WORKMEN, and LABORERS.
TASKMASTER (with a stick, urging on the workmen).
Up, up! You've rested long enough. To work!
The stones here, now the mortar, and the lime!
And let his lords.h.i.+p see the work advanced When next he comes. These fellows crawl like snails!
[To two laborers with loads.
What! call ye that a load? Go, double it.
Is this the way ye earn your wages, laggards?
FIRST WORKMAN.
'Tis very hard that we must bear the stones, To make a keep and dungeon for ourselves!
TASKMASTER.
What's that you mutter? 'Tis a worthless race, And fit for nothing but to milk their cows, And saunter idly up and down the mountains.
OLD MAN (sinks down exhausted).
I can no more.
TASKMASTER (shaking him).
Up, up, old man, to work!
FIRST WORKMAN.
Have you no bowels of compa.s.sion, thus To press so hard upon a poor old man, That scarce can drag his feeble limbs along?
MASTER MASON and WORKMEN.
Shame, shame upon you--shame! It cries to heaven!
TASKMASTER.
Mind your own business. I but do my duty.
FIRST WORKMAN.
Pray, master, what's to be the name of this Same castle when 'tis built?
TASKMASTER.
The keep of Uri; For by it we shall keep you in subjection.
WORKMEN.
The keep of Uri.
TASKMASTER.
Well, why laugh at that?
SECOND WORKMAN.
So you'll keep Uri with this paltry place!
FIRST WORKMAN.
How many molehills such as that must first Be piled above each other ere you make A mountain equal to the least in Uri?
[TASKMASTER retires up the stage.
MASTER MASON.
I'll drown the mallet in the deepest lake, That served my hand on this accursed pile.
[Enter TELL and STAUFFACHER.
STAUFFACHER.
Oh, that I had not lived to see this sight!
TELL.
Here 'tis not good to be. Let us proceed.
STAUFFACHER.
Am I in Uri, in the land of freedom?
MASTER MASON.
Oh, sir, if you could only see the vaults Beneath these towers. The man that tenants them Will never hear the c.o.c.k crow more.
STAUFFACHER.
O G.o.d!
MASTER MASON.
Look at these ramparts and these b.u.t.tresses, That seem as they were built to last forever.
