Part 267 (1/2)

[They are about to pa.s.s on. ARMMGART throws herself down before GESSLER.

ARMGART.

Mercy, lord governor! Oh, pardon, pardon!

GESSLER.

Why do you cross me on the public road?

Stand back, I say.

ARMGART.

My husband lies in prison; My wretched orphans cry for bread. Have pity, Pity, my lord, upon our sore distress!

HARRAS.

Who are you, woman; and who is your husband?

ARMGART.

A poor wild hay-man of the Rigiberg, Kind sir, who on the brow of the abyss, Mows down the gra.s.s from steep and craggy shelves, To which the very cattle dare not climb.

HARRAS (to GESSLER).

By Heaven! a sad and miserable life!

I prithee, give the wretched man his freedom.

How great soever his offence may be, His horrid trade is punishment enough.

[To ARMGART.

You shall have justice. To the castle bring Your suit. This is no place to deal with it.

ARMGART.

No, no, I will not stir from where I stand, Until your grace restore my husband to me.

Six months already has he been in prison, And waits the sentence of a judge in vain.

GESSLER.

How! Would you force me, woman? Hence! Begone!

ARMGART.

Justice, my lord! Ay, justice! Thou art judge!

The deputy of the emperor--of Heaven!

Then do thy duty, as thou hopest for justice From Him who rules above, show it to us!

GESSLER.

Hence! drive this daring rabble from my sight!

ARMGART (seizing his horse's reins).

No, no, by Heaven, I've nothing more to lose.

Thou stirrest not, viceroy, from this spot until Thou dost me fullest justice. Knit thy brows, And roll thy eyes; I fear not. Our distress Is so extreme, so boundless, that we care No longer for thine anger.

GESSLER.

Woman, hence!

Give way, I say, or I will ride thee down.