Old M. What dost thou see upon that hill, my child?
Emma. Figures of men in motion; but as dim

As shadows yet.

Old M.

"Tis Erni! O that I

Had eyes to see the shadow of my child!

O blessed are they that see!-They twice embrace
The precious things they love.-If it be they,
They'll soon be here.

Emma. Too late, I fear; too late
To save my husband and my child. Why fled
The churl soon as he told us they were in
The tyrant's power? (Crosses.)

Old M. Blame not his haste, my child, 'Twas sure for good.

Emma. I see a bark upon

The lake. I think I see the gleam

Of lances in the bark-I'm sure I do!

Old M. Likely, my child: the tyrant and his guards, Perhaps are there. He has a hold, you know,

Upon the lake-a castle, stronger far

Than that at Altorf.

Emma.

Old M.

Father-father!

What?

What moves you so, my child?

Emma. The form of him (Looks out.) Who steers the bark, is like

Old M.

Emma.

Like whose ?
My husband's!

Yes-yes! 'Tis William !-So he holds the helm ;

I'd know him at the helm from any man

That ever steered a bark upon the lake!
I fear I fear!-

Old M.

Is't the lake?

What is't you fear, my daughter?

Emma. No, no! The lake is rough;
Chafed with the storm of yesternight-'tis rough;
But 'tis not that I fear. What business have
The lances in that bark? What's that he does?
He steers her right upon a rock !-'Tis in
Despair; and there he'll die before my eyes!

Ha! what!-What's that? He springs upon the rock!
He flies!-he's free !-but they pursue
him!
Old M. See how our friends come on.
If it were they, they should be nearer now.
They are!-They are!

Emma.
Old M.

Let's haste to meet them, then. The track-the track !-Let us trust to them

For aid. Don't look behind. Come on--come on! (Exeunt) (Enter Tell, from an eminence.)

Tell. Whene'er I choose, I have the speed of them. Nor dare they shoot: so oft as they prepare,

If I but bend my bow, the terror of

The deadly aim alone transfixes them,

That down they drop their weapons by their sides,

And stand and gaze, with lapsed power, as though
In every heart, an arrow from my bow

Stood quivering. I knew that beetling cliff

Would cost them breath to climb. They top it now.

Ha! (Bends his bow.) Have I brought you to a stand again?

I'll keep you there, to give your master time

To breathe. Poor slaves! no game are you for me;
But could I draw the tyrant on, that shrinks

Behind you. There he is!

(Enter Archers and Spearmen, followed by Gesler.) Ges. Wherefore do you fly!

Tell. Wherefore do you pursue me? Said you not
You'd give me liberty, if through the storm

I safely steered your prow? The waves did then
Lash over you; your pilot left the helm ;

I took it, and they reared their heads no more,
Unless to bow them, and give way to me,
And let your pinnace on. You did repeat
Your promise, as you trembling lay, along
The bottom of the bark, and scanned the looks
Of your pale crew, that shrunk, while fiercer waxed
The fury of the wind, and to its height

The roaring of the angry thunder rose,

Through which I brought you, as through savage foes,
My friends, that for my sake forbore. You twice
Promised me liberty. I only take

What you did promise.

Ges. Traitor, 'twas your place

To wait my time.

Tell. It would have been, had I

Believed that time would come. If I'm a prize
Worthy to take, why hang you thus behind

Your minions? Why not lead the chase yourself?
Lack you the manhood e'en to breast the sport
You love?

Ges. Transfix the slave with all your darts,
At once.

Tell. Ha! (Takes aim again-they drop their weapons, which they had half raised.)

Follow me! Keen huntsmen they,

The game itself must urge. out.)

Keep up the chase! (He rushes

Ges. You keep too close together. Spread yourselves, That some of you may hit him unawares.

His quiver full of ducats, to the man

That brings him down. On, cowards-on, I say! (Exeunt.)

Scene 11.-The outside of Gesler's Castle.

(Enter Gesler's Guards, retreating in great haste and confu sion-Tell closely following, with bended bow.)

Tell. Fly! fly! ye base, ignoble cowards, fly! (Enter Erni, Furst, Melctal, Emma, Verner, and People.) Welcome, my worthy friends. The chase is o'er,

The prize is won.-An arrow from this bow
Hath felt the last throb of the tyrant's heart.
My country's free! Yes, Switzers, once again
Ye breathe the air of glorious liberty!
People. Huzzah-huzzah.

Alb. (Rushing on the stage.) "Tis liberty, my father;
Oh! 'tis liberty!

22

(Exeunt.)

COMIC AND AMUSING..

I-FROM SPEED THE PLOUGH.

FARMER ASHFIELD-DAME ASHFIELD.

Scene. In the fore-ground, a Farm House-a view of a Castle, at a distance.—Farmer Ashfield discovered, with his jug and pipe.

(Enter Dame Ashfield, in a riding dress, and a basket under her arm.)

Ashfield. Well, Dame, welcome whoam.

thee bring from market?

What news does

Dame. What news, husband? What I always told you; that Farmer Grundy's wheat brought five shillings a quarter more than ours did.

Ash. All the better vor he.

Dame. Ah! the sun seems to shine on purpose for him.

Ash. Come, come, Missus, as thee has not the grace to thank God for prosperous times, dant thee grumble when they be unkindly a bit.

Dame. And I assure you, that Dame Grundy's butter was quite the crack of the market.

Ash. Be quiet, woolye? Always ding, dinging Dame Grundy into my ears. What will Mrs. Grundy say? What will Mrs. Grundy think?-Canst thee be quiet, let ur alone, and behave thyself pratty?

Dame. Certainly I can-I'll tell thee, Tummas, what she said at church, last Sunday.

Ash. Canst thee tell what parson zaid? Noa.-Then I'll tell thee. A'zaid that envy were as foul a weed as grows, and cankers all wholesome plants that be near it-that's what a'zaid. Dame. And do you think I envy Mrs. Grundy, indeed? Ash. What dant thee letten her alone, then?—I do verily think, when thee goest to t'other world, the vurst question thee'lt ax, il be, if Mrs. Grundy's there. Zoa, be quiet, and behave pratty, do'ye.-Has thee brought whoam the Salisbury news?

Dame. No, Tummas; but I have brought a rare wadget of news with me. First and foremost, I saw such a mort of coaches, servants, and wagons, all belonging to Sir Abel Handy, and all coming to the castle-and a handsome young man, dressed all in lace, pulled off his hat to me, and said " Mrs. Ashfield, do me the honor of presenting that letter to your husband."-So, there he stood without his hat-oh, Tummas, had you seen how Mrs. Grundy looked!

-

Ash. Dom Mrs. Grundy-be quiet, and let I read, woolye? (Reads.) "My dear Farmer"-(Taking off his hat.) Thank ye, zur-zame to you, wi' all my heart and soul.- "My dear Farmer"

Dame.

Farmer-why, you are blind, Tummas; it is-" My dear Father"-tis from our own dear Susan.

Ash. Odds! dickens and daisies! zoo it be, zure enow!"My dear Father, you will be surprised"-zoo I be, he, he! What pretty writing, beant it? all as straight as thof it were ploughed "Surprised to hear that in a few hours, I shall embrace you-Nelly, who was formerly our servant, has fortunately married Sir Abel Handy, Bart.".

Dame. Handy Bart-Pugh! Bart. stands for baronight, mun. Ash. Likely, likely.-Drabbit it, only to think of the zwaps and changes of this world.

Dame. Our Nelly married to a great baronet! I wonder, Tummas, what Mrs. Grundy will say?

Ash. Now, woolye be quiet, and let I read?" And she has proposed bringing me to see you; an offer, I hope, as acceptable to my dear feyther"

Dame. "And mother."

Ash. Bless her, how prettily she do write feyther, dant she? Dame. And mother.

Ash. Ees, but feyther first, though" Acceptable to my dear feyther and mother, as to their affectionate daughter, Susan Ashfield." Now beant that a pratty letter?

Dame. And, Tummas, is not she a pretty girl?

Ash. Ees, and as good as she be pretty.-Drabbit it, I do feel zoo happy, and zoo warm,-for all the world like the zun in harvest.

Dame. And what will Mrs. Grundy say?

(Exeunt.)