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Look upon my boy, as though I guessed it!—
Guess the trial thoud'st have me make!
Guessed it instinctively! Thou dost not mean—
No, no-Thou would'st not have me make
A trial of my skill upon my child!

Impossible! I do not guess thy meaning.
Ges. I'd see thee hit an apple on his head,
Three hundred paces off.

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Ges. On this condition only, will I spare His life and thine.

Tell.

Ges.

Ferocious monster! make a father murder his own child!

Dost thou consent?

Tell. With his own hand!

The hand I've led him when an infant by!

My hands are free from blood, and have no gust
For it, that they should drink my child's.

I'll not murder my boy, for Gesler.

Boy. You will not hit me, father. You'll be sure

To hit the apple. Will you not save me, father?
Tell. Lead me forth-I'll make the trial.

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Tell. Speak not to me

Let me not hear thy voice. Thou must be dumb;

And so should all things be-Earth should be dumb
And Heaven, unless its thunder muttered at

The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it.

Give me my bow and quiver.

Ges. When all is ready, Sarnem, measure hence

The distance—three hundred paces.

Tell. Will he do it fairly?

Ges. What is't to thee, fairly or not?

Tell. (Sarcastically.) O, nothing, a little thing,

A very little thing, I only shoot

At

my child!

[Sarnem prepares to measure.

Villain, stop! you measure against the sun.

Ges. And what of that?

What matter whether to or from the sun?

Tell.

I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine

Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots;

I will not shoot against the sun.

Ges. Give him his way.

[Sarnem paces and

goes out.

Tell. I should like to see the apple I must hit.

Ges. (Picks out the smallest one.) There, take that.
You've pick'd the smallest one.

Tell.

Ges. I know I have. Thy skill will be

The greater if thou hittest it.

Tell. (Sarcastically.) True-true! I did not think of

that.

I wonder I did not think of that. A larger one

Had given me a chance to save my boy.

Give me my bow. Let me see my quiver.

Ges.

[To an attendant.] Give him a single arrow.

[Tell looks at the arrow and breaks it.]

Tell. Let me see my quiver. It is not
One arrow in a dozen I would use

To shoot with at a dove, much less, a dove
Like that.

Ges. Show him the quiver.

[Sarnem returns, and takes the apple and the boy to place them While this is doing, Tell conceals an arrow under his garment. He then selects another arrow.]

Tell. Is the boy ready? Keep silence now, For Heaven's sake; and be my witnesses,

That if his life's in peril from my hand,

'Tis only for the chance of saving it.

For mercy's sake keep motionless and silent.

[He aims and shoots in the direction of the boy. In a moment Sarnem enters with the apple on the arrow's point.]

Sar. The boy is safe.

Tell. [Raising his arms.] Thank Heaven!

[As he raises his arms, the concealed arrow falls.] Ges. [Picking it up.] Unequalled archer! Why was this concealed?

Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy.

Gesler, the Austrian governor, ordered homage to be paid to his hat. William Tell, of Switzerland, for refusing thus to degrade himself, was compelled by the tyrant to shoot an arrow at an apple, placed on his own son's head, or else suffer, with his child, instant death. Fortunately, he hit the apple.

93. EXTRACT FROM DAMON AND PYTHIAS.-Shiel.

DAMON, LUCULLUS, PROCLES, and PYTHIAS.

[Damon alone.]

Damon. Philistus, then, is president at last,

And Dionysius has o'erswayed it? Well,

It is what I expected:-there is now

No public virtue left in Syracuse.

What should be hoped from a degenerate,
Corrupted, and voluptuous populace,

When highly-born and meanly-minded nobles
Would barter freedom for a great man's feast,
And sell their country for a smile? The stream,
With a more sure, eternal tendency,
Seeks not the ocean, than a sensual race
Their own devouring slavery. I am sick
At my inmost heart, of every thing I see
And hear!-Oh Syracuse, I am at last
Forced to despair of thee! And yet thou art
My land of birth,-thou art my country still;
And like an unkind mother, thou hast left
The claims of holiest nature in my heart,
And I must sorrow for- -not hate thee!

[Shouts.] Ha!

What shouts are these? 'Tis from the citadel
The uproar is descending.

Speak, Lucullus, what has befallen?

Enter Lucullus.

Lucullus. Have you heard the news?

Da.

What news?

Luc. As through the streets I passed, the people

Said that the citadel was in the hands

Of Dionysius.

Da. The citadel

In Dionysius' hands?

What dost thou tell me?

How, wherefore, when? In Dionysius' hands!
The traitor Dionysius! Speak, Lucullus,

And quickly.

Luc. It was said, that by rude force, Heading a troop of soldiers, he has taken Possession of the citadel, and seized

The arms and treasure in't.

[Exit.

Da. I am thunder stricken!

The citadel assaulted, and the armory

In that fierce soldier's power! [Shouts.] Again! By all
The gods on high Olympus, I behold

His standard waving over it, and they come,
His most notorious satellites, high heaped
With arms and plunder! Parricidal slaves,
What have ye done?

[Enter Procles and Soldiers.] Soldiers. For Dionysius! Ho!

For Dionysius!

Da. Silence!-Obstreperous traitors!
Your throats offend the quiet of the city;
And thou, who standest foremost of these knaves,
Stand back, and answer me,—a senator;
What have you done?

Proc. But that I know 'twill gall thee,
Thou poor and talking pedant of the school
Of dull Pythagoras, I'd let thee make
Conjecture from thy senses. But, in hope
'Twill stir your solemn anger, learn from me,
We have taken possession of the citadel,

And

Da. Patience, ye good gods! a moment's patience, That these too ready hands may not enforce

The desperate precept of my rising heart

Thou most contemptible and meanest tool
That ever tyrant used!

Proc. Do you hear him, soldiers?

First, for thy coward railings at myself,

And since thou hast called our Dionysius tyrant,
Here, in the open streets of Syracuse,

I brand thee for a liar, and a traitor!

Da. Audacious slave!

Proc. Upon him, soldiers,

Hew him to pieces!

[Enter Pythias, as they rush on Damon.]

Pythias. Back, on your lives!

Cowards, treacherous cowards, back, I say

Do you know me? Look upon me; do you know

This honest sword I brandish?

You have seen it

Among the ranks of Carthage; would you now

Taste its shrewd coldness in your quaking selves?
Back! back! I say. He hath his armor on-
I am his sword, shield, helm; I but enclose
Myself, and my own heart, and heart's blood, when
I thus stand before him.

Da. False hearted cravens!

We are but two-my Pythias, my halved heart-
My Pythias, and myself; but dare come on,
Ye hirelings of a tyrant! dare advance

A foot, or raise an arm, or bend a bow,
And ye shall learn what two such arms can do
Amongst a thousand of ye. My good friend,
The gods have sent thee to me. Who had deemed
To find thee here from Agrigentum ?
[Soldiers advance.]

Pyth. Off! off! villains, off!

Why, Procles,-art thou not ashamed-for I,
I have seen thee do good work in battle time-
Art thou not ashamed, here on a single man
To rush in coward numbers? Fie upon thee!
I took thee for a soldier.

Proc. For thy sake,

Who art a warrior like ourselves, we spare him.-
'Twas a good star of his that led thee hither
From Agrigentum, to lift up thine arm
In the defence of that long robe of peace,
Wherein he wraps his stern philosophy.
Come, teach him better manners.
Let us to Dionysius.

Soldiers, on,

[Exit Procles and Soldiers.

Pyth. (To Damon.) Art thou safe

From these infuriate stabbers?

Da. Thanks to thee,

I am safe, my gallant soldier, and fast friend;
My better genius sent thee to my side,
When I did think thee far from Syracuse.

Pyth. I have won leave to spend some interval
From the fierce war, and come to Syracuse,
With purpose to espouse the fair Calanthe.-
The gods have led me hither, since I come
In time to rescue thee.

How grew this rude broil up?

Da. Things go on here

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