Part 253 (1/2)

We keep our watch in vain. There's not a soul Will pa.s.s and do obeisance to the cap.

But yesterday the place swarmed like a fair; Now the whole green looks like a very desert, Since yonder scarecrow hung upon the pole.

LEUTHHOLD.

Only the vilest rabble show themselves, And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us.

All honest citizens would sooner make A tedious circuit over half the town Than bend their backs before our master's cap.

FRIESSHARDT.

They were obliged to pa.s.s this way at noon, As they were coming from the council house.

I counted then upon a famous catch, For no one thought of bowing to the cap.

But Rosselmann, the priest, was even with me: Coming just then from some sick penitent, He stands before the pole--raises the Host-- The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell-- When down they dropped on knee--myself and all In reverence to the Host, but not the cap.

LEUTHOLD.

Hark ye, companion, I've a shrewd suspicion, Our post's no better than the pillory.

It is a burning shame, a trooper should Stand sentinel before an empty cap, And every honest fellow must despise us, To do obeisance to a cap, too! Faith, I never heard an order so absurd!

FRIESSHARDT.

Why not, an't please thee, to an empty cap.

Thou'st ducked, I'm sure, to many an empty sconce.

[HILDEGARD, MECHTHILD, and ELSBETH enter with their children and station themselves around the pole.

LEUTHOLD.

And thou art an officious sneaking knave, That's fond of bringing honest folks to trouble.

For my part, he that likes may pa.s.s the cap I'll shut my eyes and take no note of him.

MECHTHILD.

There hangs the viceroy! Your obeisance, children!

ELSBETH.

I would to G.o.d he'd go, and leave his cap!

The country would be none the worse for it.

FRIESSHARDT (driving them away).

Out of the way! Confounded pack of gossips!

Who sent for you? Go, send your husbands here, If they have courage to defy the order.

[TELL enters with his crossbow, leading his son WALTER by the hand. They pa.s.s the hat without noticing it, and advance to the front of the stage.

WALTER (pointing to the Bannberg).

Father, is't true, that on the mountain there, The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed?

TELL.

Who says so, boy?

WALTER.

The master herdsman, father!

He tells us there's a charm upon the trees, And if a man shall injure them, the hand That struck the blow will grow from out the grave.

TELL.