Oh God, have mercy on my soul!
HAR.
My lord! my lord! Oh God! What's this? Whence came it?
ARM. (starts up).
Dead, dead! He reels, he falls! 'Tis in his heart!
HAR. (springs from his horse).
Horror of horrors! Heavenly powers! Sir Knight,
Address yourself for mercy to your God!
You are a dying man.
GESSL.
That shot was Tell's.
[He slides from his horse into the arms of Rudolph der Harras, who
lays him down upon the bench. Tell appears above upon the rocks.]
TELL.
Thou know'st the marksman-I, and I alone.
Now are our homesteads free, and innocence
From thee is safe: thou'lt be our curse no more.
[Tell disappears. People rush in.]
STUSSI.
What is the matter? Tell me what has happen'd?
ARM.
The Viceroy's shot,-pierced by a cross-bow bolt!
PEOPLE (running in).
Who has been shot?
[While the foremost of the marriage party are coming on the stage, the
hindmost are still upon the heights. The music continues.]
HAR.
He's bleeding fast to death.
Away, for help-pursue the murderer!
Unhappy man, is this to be your end?
You would not listen to my warning words.
STUSSI.
By Heaven, his cheek is pale! Life's ebbing fast.
MANY VOICES.
Who did the deed?
HAR.
What! Are the people mad,
That they make music to a murder? Silence!
[Music breaks off suddenly. People continue to flock in.]
Speak, if you can, my lord. Have you no charge
To trust me with?
[Gessler makes signs with his hand, which he repeats with vehemence,
when he finds they are not understood.
Where shall I take you to?
To Kussnacht? What you say I can't make out.
Oh, do not grow impatient! Leave all thought
Of earthly things and make your peace with Heaven.
[The whole marriage party gather round the dying man.]
STUSSI.
See there! how pale he grows! Death's gathering now
About his heart;-his eyes grow dim and glazed.
ARM. (holds up a child).
Look, children, how a tyrant dies!
HAR.
Mad hag!
Have you no touch of feeling, that your eyes
Gloat on a sight so horrible as this?
Help me-take hold. What, will not one assist
To pull the torturing arrow from his breast?
WOMEN.
What! touch the man whom God's own hand has struck!
HAR.
All curses light on you!
[Draws his sword.]
STUSSI (seizes his arm).
Gently, Sir Knight!
Your power is at end. 'Twere best forbear.
Our country's foe has fallen. We will brook
No further violence. We are free men.
ALL.
The country's free.
