STUSSI.

How!  Were you out, then, in that dreadful storm?

FRIESS.

We were!  I’ll not forget it while I live.

STUSSI.

Stay, speak—­

FRIESS.

I can’t—­must to the castle haste,
And tell them, that the governor’s at hand.

[Exit.]

STUSSI.

If honest men, now, had been in the ship,
It had gone down with every soul on board:—­
Some folks are proof ’gainst fire and water both.

[Looking round.]

Where has the huntsman gone with whom I spoke?

[Exit.]

Enter GESSLER and RUDOLPH DER HARRAS on horseback

GESSLER.

Say what you will; I am the Emperor’s liege,
And how to please him my first thought must be. 
He did not send me here to fawn and cringe,
And coax these boors into good humor.  No! 
Obedience he must have.  The struggle’s this: 
Is king or peasant to be sovereign here?

ARMGART.

Now is the moment!  Now for my petition!

GESSLER.

’Twas not in sport that I set up the cap
In Altdorf—­or to try the people’s hearts—­
All this I knew before.  I set it up
That they might learn to bend those stubborn necks
They carry far too proudly—­and I placed
What well I knew their pride could never brook
Full in the road, which they perforce must pass,
That, when their eye fell on it, they might call
That lord to mind whom they too much forget.

HARRAS.

But surely, sir, the people have some rights—­

GESSLER.

This is no time to settle what they are. 
Great projects are at work, and hatching now. 
The Imperial house seeks to extend its power. 
Those vast designs of conquest which the sire
Has gloriously begun, the son will end. 
This petty nation is a stumbling-block—­
One way or other, it must be put down.

[They are about to pass on.  ARMGART throws herself down before GESSLER.]

ARMGART.

Mercy, lord governor!  Oh, pardon, pardon!

GESSLER.

Why do you cross me on the public road? 
Stand back, I say.

ARMGART.

My husband lies in prison;
My wretched orphans cry for bread.  Have pity,
Pity, my lord, upon our sore distress!

HARRAS.

Who are you? and your husband, what is he?

ARMGART.

A poor wild hay-man of the Rigiberg,
Kind sir, who on the brow of the abyss,
Mows the unowner’d grass from craggy shelves,
To which the very cattle dare not climb.

HARRAS (to GESSLER).

By Heaven! a sad and pitiable life! 
I pray you set the wretched fellow free. 
How great soever may be his offence,
His horrid trade is punishment enough.

[To ARMGART.]

You shall have justice.  To the castle bring
Your suit.  This is no place to deal with it.