Ges.  What should I seem?

Tell.  A monster.

Ges.  Ha!  Beware!  Think on thy chains.

Tell.  Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down
      Prostrate to the earth, methinks I could rise up
      Erect, with nothing but the honest pride
      Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth,
      Thou art a monster!  Think upon my chains? 
      How came they on me?

Ges.  Darest thou question me?

Tell.  Darest thou not answer?

Ges.  Do I hear?

Tell.  Thou dost.

Ges.  Beware my vengeance!

Tell.  Can it more than kill?

Ges.  Enough; it can do that.

Tell.  No; not enough: 
      It can not take away the grace of life;
      Its comeliness of look that virtue gives;
      Its port erect with consciousness of truth;
      Its rich attire of honorable deeds;
      Its fair report that’s rife on good men’s tongues;
      It can not lay its hands on these, no more
      Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun,
      Or with polluted finger tarnish it.

Ges.  But it can make thee writhe.

Tell.  It may.

Ges.  And groan.

Tell.  It may; and I may cry
      Go on, though it should make me groan again.

Ges.  Whence comest thou?

Tell.  From the mountains.  Wouldst thou learn
      What news from thence?

Ges.  Canst tell me any?

Tell.  Ay:  they watch no more the avalanche.

Ges.  Why so?

Tell.  Because they look for thee.  The hurricane
      Comes unawares upon them; from its bed
      The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.

Ges.  What do they then?

Tell.  Thank heaven it is not thou! 
      Thou hast perverted nature in them. 
      There’s not a blessing heaven vouchsafes them, but
      The thought of thee—­doth wither to a curse.

Ges.  That’s right!  I’d have them like their hills,
     That never smile, though wanton summer tempt
     Them e’er so much.

Tell.  But they do sometimes smile.

Ges.  Ay! when is that?

Tell.  When they do talk of vengeance.

Ges.  Vengeance?  Dare they talk of that?

Tell.  Ay, and expect it too.

Ges.  From whence?

Tell.  From heaven!

Ges.  From heaven?

Tell.  And their true hands
      Are lifted up to it on every hill
      For justice on thee.

Ges.  Where’s thy abode?

Tell.  I told thee, on the mountains.

Ges.  Art married?

Tell.  Yes.

Ges.  And hast a family?

Tell.  A son.

Ges.  A son?  Sarnem!

Sar.  My lord, the boy—­(Gesler signs to Sarnem to keep
        silence, and, whispering, sends him off.)