A very little thing—a yard or two
Is nothing here or there—were it a wolf
I shot at. Never mind.
Ges. Be thankful, slave,
Our grace accords thee life on any terms.
Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler. Villain, stop!
You measure to 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