How now, Tell, on a sudden so discreet?
I had been told thou wert a visionary—
A wanderer from the paths of common men.
Thou lov'st the marvelous. So have I now
Cull'd out for thee a task of special daring.
Another man might pause and hesitate;—
Thou dashest at it, heart and soul, at once.
BERTHA.
Oh, do not jest, my lord, with these poor souls!
See, how they tremble, and how pale they look,
So little used are they to hear thee jest.
GESSLER.
Who tells thee that I jest?
[Grasping a branch above his head.]
Here is the apple.
Room there, I say! And let him take his distance—
Just eighty paces—as the custom is—
Not an inch more or less! It was his boast
That at a hundred he could hit his man.
Now, archer, to your task, and look you miss not!
HARRAS.
Heavens! this grows serious—down, boy, on your knees,
And beg the governor to spare your life.
FÜRST (aside to MELCHTHAL, who can scarcely restrain his indignation).