GESSLER (after a pause).
I hear, Tell, you're a master with the bow,—
And bear the palm away from every rival.
WALTER.
That must be true, sir! At a hundred yards
He'll shoot an apple for you off the tree.
GESSLER.
Is that boy thine, Tell?
TELL.
Yes, my gracious lord.
GESSLER.
Hast any more of them?
TELL.
Two boys, my lord.
GESSLER.
And, of the two, which dost thou love the most?
TELL.
Sir, both the boys are dear to me alike.
GESSLER.
Then, Tell, since at a hundred yards thou canst
Bring down the apple from the tree, thou shalt
Approve thy skill before me. Take thy bow—
Thou hast it there at hand—and make thee ready
To shoot an apple from the stripling's head!
But take this counsel,—look well to thine aim,
See that thou hittest the apple at the first,
For, shouldst thou miss, thy head shall pay the forfeit.
[All give signs of horror.