Tell.  The boy?  What boy? 
      Is ’t mine? and have they netted my young fledgeling? 
      Now heaven support me, if they have!  He’ll own me,
      And share his father’s ruin!  But a look
      Would put him on his guard—­yet how to give it! 
      Now heart, thy nerve; forget thou ’rt flesh, be rock. 
      They come, they come! 
      That step—­that step—­that little step, so light
      Upon the ground, how heavy does it fall
      Upon my heart!  I feel my child! (Enter Sarnem
         with Albert, whose eyes are 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.)

Sar. (Aside to Gesler.) They’re like each other.

Ges.  Yet I see no sign
     Of recognition to betray 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 be
     A preconcerted thing ’gainst such a chance. 
     That they survey each other coldly thus.

Ges.  We shall try.  Lead forth the caitiff.

Sar.  To a dungeon?

Ges.  No; into the court.

Sar.  The court, my lord?

Ges.  And send
     To tell the headsman to make 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 to call my thoughts together!

Ges.  Thou shalt not have a minute.

Tell.  Some one, then, to speak with.

Ges.  Hence with him!

Tell.  A moment!  Stop! 
      Let me speak to the boy.

Ges.  Is he thy son?

Tell.  And if
      He were, art thou so lost to nature, as
      To send me forth to die 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 son
      About thy age.  Thou,
      I see, wast horn, like him, upon the hills: 
      If thou shouldst ’scape thy present thraldom, he
      May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee
      Relate to him what has been passing here,
      And say I laid my hand upon thy head,
      And said to thee, if he were here, as thou art,
      Thus would I bless him.  Mayst thou live, my boy,
      To see thy country free, or die for her,
      As I do! (Albert weeps.)