ARMGART (seizing his horse's reins).
No, no, by Heaven, I've nothing more to lose.—
Thou stir'st not, Viceroy, from this spot, until
Thou dost me fullest justice. Knit thy brows,
And roll thine eyes—I fear not. Our distress
Is so extreme, so boundless, that we care
No longer for thine anger.
GESSLER.
Woman, hence!
Give way, or else my horse shall ride you down.
ARMGART.
Well, let it!—there—
[Throws her children and herself upon the ground before him.]
Here on the ground I lie,
I and my children. Let the wretched orphans
Be trodden by thy horse into the dust!
It will not be the worst that thou hast done.
HARRAS.
Are you mad, woman?