James Sheridan Knowles （b. 1784,d. 1862）,a dramatist and actor,was born in Cork,Ireland. In 1792 his father removed tLondon with his family. At the age of fourteen,Sheridan wrote an opera called "The Chevalier de Grillon." In 1798 he removed tDublin,and soon after began his career as an actor and author. In 1835 he visited America. In 1839 an annual pension of ?200 was granted him by the British government. Several years before his death he left the stage and became a Baptist minister. The best known of his plays are "Caius Gracchus," "Virginius," "Leo,the Gypsy," "The Hunchback," and "William Tell," from the last of which the following twlessons are abridged.
SCENE 1.-A Chamber in the Castle. Enter Gesler,Officers,and Sarnem,with Tell in chains and guarded.
Sar. Down,slave! Behold the governor.
Down! down! and beg for mercy.
Ges. （Seated.） Does he hear?
Sar. He does,but braves thy power.
Officer. Why don‘t you smite him for that look?
Ges. Can I believe.
My eyes? He smiles! Nay,grasps
His chains as he would make a weapon of them Tlay the smiter dead. （TTell.）Why speakest thou not?
Tell. For wonder.
Ges. Wonder?
Tell. Yes,that thou shouldst seem a man.
Ges. What should I seem?
Tell. A monster.
Ges. Ha! Beware! Think on thy chains.
Tell. Though they were doubled,and did weigh me down Prostrate tthe earth,methinks I could rise up Erect,with nothing but the honest prideOf telling thee,usurper,tthy teeth,Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains? How came they on me?
Ges. Darest thou question me? Tell. Darest thou not answer? Ges. DI hear?
Tell. Thou dost.
Ges. Beware my vengeance! Tell. Can it more than kill? Ges. Enough;it can dthat. Tell. No;not enough:
It can not take away the grace of life;
Its comeliness1of look that virtue gives; Its port2erect with consciousness of truth;Its rich attire3of honorable deeds;Its fair report that’s rife on good men‘s tongues;It can not lay its hands on these,nmoreThan it can pluck the brightness from the sun,Or with polluted finger tarnish4 it.
Ges. But it can make thee writhe.
Tell. It may.
Ges. And groan.
Tell. It may;and I may cry.
1 Comeliness,that which is becoming or graceful. 2 Port,manner of movement or walk.
3Attire,dress,clothes.
4Tarnish,tsoil,tsully.
Gon,though it should make me groan again.
Ges. Whence comest thou?
Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn What news from thence?
Ges. Canst tell me any?
Tell. Ay: they watch nmore the avalanche1.
Ges. Why so?
Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane Comes unawares upon them;from its bedThe torrent breaks,and finds them in its track.
Ges. What dthey then?
Tell. Thank heaven it is not thou!
Thou hast perverted nature in them.
There’s not a blessing heaven vouchsafes2them,but The thought of thee-doth wither ta curse.
Ges. That‘s right! I’d have them like their hills,That never smile,though wanton3 summer tempt Them e‘er smuch.
Tell. But they dsometimes smile.
Ges. Ay! when is that?
Tell. When they dtalk of vengeance. Ges. Vengeance? Dare they talk of that? Tell. Ay,and expect it too.
Ges. From whence? Tell. From heaven! Ges. From heaven?
Tell. And their true hands
Are lifted up tit on every hill For justice on thee.
Ges. Where’s thy abode?
1Avalanche,a vast body of snow,earth,and ice,sliding down from a mountain. 2Vouchsafes,yields,condescends,gives.
3Wanton,luxuriant.
Tell. I told thee,on the mountains.
Ges. Art married?
Tell. Yes.
Ges. And hast a family?
Tell. A son.
Ges. A son? Sarnem!
Sar. My lord,the boy-（Gesler signs tSarnem tkeep silence,and,whispering,sends him off.）Tell. The boy? What boy?
Is ‘t mine? and have they netted1my young fledgeling2? Now heaven support me,if they have! He’ll own me,And share his father‘s ruin! But a lookWould put him on his guard-yet how tgive it! Now heart,thy nerve;forget thou ’rt flesh,be rock. They come,they come!
That step-that step-that little step,slight Upon the ground,how heavy does it fallUpon my heart! I feel my child! （Enter Sarnem with Albert,whose eyesare riveted on Tell‘s bow,which Sarnem carries.） ’T is he! We can but perish.
Alb. （Aside.） Yes;I was right. It is my father‘s bow!
For there’s my father! I‘ll not own him though!
Sar. See!
Alb. What?
Sar. Look there!
Alb. I do,what would you have me see?
Sar. Thy father.
Alb. Who? That-that my father?
Tell. My boy! my boy! my own brave boy!
He’s safe! （Aside.）
1Netted,caught in a net.
2Fledgeling,a young bird.
Sar. （Aside tGesler.） They‘re like each other.
Ges. Yet I see nsign.
Of recognition1 tbetray the link Unites a father and his child.
Sar. My lord,I am sure it is his father. Look at them.That boy did spring from him;or never cast Came from the mold it fitted! It may beA preconcerted2 thing ’gainst such a chance.That they survey each other coldly thus.
Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff3.
Sar. Ta dungeon?
Ges. No;intthe court. Sar. The court,my lord? Ges. And sendTtell the headsman tmake ready. Quick! The slave shall die! You marked the boy?
Sar. I did. He started;‘t is his father. Ges. We shall see. Away with him! Tell. Stop! Stop!
Ges. What would you?
Tell. Time,-A little time tcall my thoughts together!
Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute. Tell. Some one,then,tspeak with. Ges. Hence with him!
Tell. A moment! Stop!
Let me speak tthe boy.
Ges. Is he thy son?
Tell. And if
1 Recognition,acknowledgment of acquaintance. 2 Preconcerted,planned beforehand.
3Caitiff,a mean villain.
He were,art thou slost tnature,as Tsend me forth tdie before his face?
Ges. Well! speak with him.
Now,Sarnem,mark them well.
Tell. Thou dost not know me,boy;and well for thee Thou dost not. I’m the father of a sonAbout thy age. Thou,I see,wast horn,like him,upon the hills:If thou shouldst ‘scape thy present thraldom1,he May chance tcross thee;if he should,I pray thee Relate thim what has been passing here,And say I laid my hand upon thy head,And said tthee,if he were here,as thou art,Thus would I bless him. Mayst thou live,my boy,Tsee thy country free,or die for her,As I do! （Albert weeps.）
Sar. Mark! he weeps.
Tell. Were he my son,He would not shed a tear! He would remember The cliff where he was bred,and learned tscan2 A thousand fathoms’ depth of nether3 air;Where he was trained thear the thunder talk,And meet the lightning,eye teye;where last We spoke together,when I told him death Bestowed the brightest gem that graces life,Embraced for virtue‘s sake. He shed a tear!
Now were he by,I’d talk thim,and his cheek Should never blanch4,nor moisture dim his eye- I‘d talk thim-1Thraldom,bondage,slavery. 2Scan,texamine closely.
3Nether,lower,lying beneath. 4 Blanch,tturn white.
Sar. He falters!
Tell. ’T is tomuch!
And yet it must be done! I‘d talk thim-Ges. Of what?
Tell. The mother,tyrant,thou dost make A widow of ! I’d talk thim of her. I‘d bid him tell her,next tliberty,Her name was the last word my lips pronounced. And I would charge him never tforgetTlove and cherish her,as he would have His father’s dying blessing rest upon him!
Sar. You see,as he doth prompt,the other acts.
Tell. Swell he bears it,he doth vanquish me.
My boy! my boy! Oh,for the hills,the hills,Tsee him bound along their tops again,With liberty.
Sar. Was there not an the father in that look?
Ges. Yet ‘t is ’gainst nature.
Sar. Not if he believes.
Town the son would be tmake him share The father‘s death.
Ges. I did not think of that! ’T is wellThe boy is not thy son. I‘ve destined him Tdie along with thee.
Tell. Tdie? For what?
Ges. For having braved my power,as thou hast. Lead them forth.
Tell. He’s but a child.
Ges. Away with them!
Tell. Perhaps an only child.
Ges. Nmatter.
Tell. He may have a mother.
Ges. Sthe viper hath;
And yet,whspares it for the mother‘s sake?
Tell. I talk tstone! I talk tit as though’T were flesh;and know ‘t is none. I’ll talk tit Nmore. Come,my boy;I taught thee how tlive,I‘ll show thee how tdie.
Ges. He is thy child?
Tell. He is my child. （Weeps.）
Ges. I’ve wrung a tear from him! Thy name?
Tell. My name?
It matters not tkeep it from thee now;My name is Tell.
Ges. Tell? William Tell?
Tell. The same.
Ges. What! he,sfamed ‘bove all his countrymen,For guiding o’er the stormy lake the boat? And such a master of his bow,‘t is saidHis arrows never miss! Indeed! I’ll take Exquisite vengeance! Mark! I‘ll spare thy life;Thy boy’s too;both of you are free;on one Condition.
Tell. Name it.
Ges. I would see you make.
A trial of your skill with that same bow You shoot swell with.
Tell. Name the trial you Would have me make.
Ges. You look upon your boy.
As though instinctively you guessed it.
Tell. Look upon my boy? What mean you? Look upon My boy as though I guessed it? Guessed the trial You‘d have me make? Guessed itInstinctively? You dnot mean-no-no,You would not have me make a trial ofMy skill upon my child! Impossible!
I dnot guess your meaning.
Ges. I would see.
Thee hit an apple at the distance of A hundred paces.
Tell. Is my boy thold it?
Ges. No.
Tell. No? I’ll send the arrow through the core!
Ges. It is trest upon his head.
Tell. Great heaven,you hear him!
Ges. Thou dost hear the choice I give:
Such trial of the skill thou art master of,Or death tboth of you,not otherwise Tbe escaped.
Tell.O,monster! Ges. Wilt thou dit? Alb. He will! he will!
Tell. Ferocious monster! Make.
A father murder his own child! Ges. Take off his chains if he consent. Tell. With his own hand!
Ges. Does he consent?
Alb. He does. （Gesler signs this officers,whproceed ttake off Tell‘schains;Tell unconscious what they do.）
Tell. With his own hand!
Murder his child with his own hand? This hand? The hand I’ve led him,when an infant,by?
‘T is beyond horror! ’T is most horrible!
Amazement! （His chains fall off.） What‘s that you’ve done tme? Villains! put on my chains again. My handsAre free from blood,and have ngust1 for it,That they should drink my child‘s! Here! here! I’ll1Gust,taste,relish.
Not murder my boy for Gesler.
Alb. Father! Father!
You will not hit me,father!
Tell. Hit thee? Send.
The arrow through thy brain? Or,missing that,Shoot out an eye? Or,if thine eye escape,Mangle the cheek I‘ve seen thy mother’s lips Cover with kisses? Hit thee? Hit a hairOf thee,and cleave thy mother‘s heart?
Ges. Dost thou consent?
Tell. Give me my bow and quiver.
Ges. For what?
Tell. Tshoot my boy!
Alb. No,father,no!
Tsave me! You’ll be sure thit the apple. Will you not save me,father?
Tell. Lead me forth;I‘ll make the trial!
Alb. Thank you!Tell. Thank me? DoYou know for what? I will not make the trial. Ttake him this mother in my arms!
And lay him down a corse before her!
Ges. Then he dies this moment,and you certainly Dmurder him whose life you have a chance Tsave,and will not use it.
Tell. Well,I’ll dit;I‘ll make the trial.
Alb. Father!
Tell. Speak not tme:
Let me not hear thy voice: thou must be dumb,And sshould all things be. Earth should be dumb;And heaven-unless its thunders muttered atThe deed,and sent a bolt tstop! Give meMy bow and quiver! Ges. When all’s ready. Tell.Ready!-I must be calm with such a mark thit!
Don‘t touch me,child!-Don’t speak tme!-Lead on!
