RUDENZ.
See, yonder goes the chase! Now, then, or never!
I must avail me of this precious chance—
Must hear my doom decided by thy lips,
Though it should part me from thy side forever.
Oh, do not arm that gentle face of thine
With looks so stern and harsh! Who—who am I,
That dare aspire so high, as unto thee?
Fame hath not stamp'd me yet; nor may I take
My place amid the courtly throng of knights,
That, crown'd with glory's lustre, woo thy smiles.
Nothing have I to offer but a heart
That overflows with truth and love for thee.
BERTHA (sternly and with severity).
And dare you speak to me of love—of truth!
You, that are faithless to your nearest ties!
You, that are Austria's slave-bartered and sold
To her—an alien, and your country's tyrant!
RUDENZ.
How! This reproach from thee! Whom do I seek,
On Austria's side, my own beloved, but thee?
BERTHA.
Think you to find me in the traitor's ranks?
Now, as I live, I'd rather give my hand
To Gessler's self, all despot though he be,
Than to the Switzer who forgets his birth,
And stoops to be a tyrant's servile tool.
RUDENZ.
Oh heaven, what words are these?