Alb. Then do not question me,

But let me go.

Ges. When I have learned from thee

Thy father's name.

Sentinel.

What hoa!

Within.] Who's there?

Ges. Gesler!

Alb. Ha, Gesler !

Ges. [To the soldiers.]—Seize him! Wilt thou tell me Thy father's name?

Alb. No!

Ges. I can bid them cast thee

Into a dungeon! Wilt thou tell it now?

Alb. No.

Ges. I can bid them strangle thee. Wilt tell it?

Alb. Never.

Ges. Away with him! Send Sarnem to me.

[Soldiers take off Albert through the gate.

Behind that boy, I see the shadow of

A hand must wear my fetters, or 'twill try
To strip me of my power. I have felt to-day
What 'tis to live at others' mercy. I
Have tasted fear to very sickness, and
Ow'd to a peasant-boy my safety—Ay,
My life! and there does live the slave can say
Gesler's his debtor! How I loath'd the free
And fearless air with which he trod the hill!
Yea, though the safety of his steps was mine,
Oft as our path did brink the precipice,
I wish'd to see him miss his footing and
Roll over! But he's in my power!-Some way
To find the parent nest of this fine eaglet,
And harrow it! I'd like to clip the broad

And full-grown wing that taught his tender pinion
So bold a flight!

Enter SARNEM, through the gate.

Ges. Ha, Sarnem! Have the slaves, Attended me, returned?

Sar. That passed me?
Ges. Yes.

Sar. A mountaineer!

Ges. You'd say so, saw you him

Upon the hills; he walks them like their lord!
I tell thee, Sarnem, looking on that boy,

I felt I was not master of those hills.

He has a father-neither promises

Nor threats could draw from him his name

Who talks to him of liberty! I fear

As found, disposed of! I can see the man.
He is as palpable to my sight, as if

-a father

He stood like you before me. I can see him
Scaling that rock; yea, I can feel him, Sarnem,
As I were in his grasp, and he about
To hurl me o'er yon parapet! I live

In danger, till I find that man! Send parties
Into the mountains, to explore them far
And wide; and if they chance to light upon
A father, who expects his child, command them
To drag him straight before us. Sarnem, Sarnem,
They are not yet subdued. Some way to prove
Their spirit!-Take this cap; and have it set
Upon a pole in the market-place, and see
That one and all do bow to it; whoe'er
Resists, or pays the homage sullenly,

Our bonds await him! Sarnem, see it done! [Exeunt.

-KNOWLES.

SCENE SARNEM, TELL, AND CITIZENS.

Sar. Ye men of Altorf!

Behold the emblem of your master's power
And dignity. This is the cap of Gesler,
Your
governor ; let all bow down to it
Who owe him love and loyalty. To such
As shall refuse this lawful homage, or
Accord it sullenly, he shows no grace,
But dooms them to the penalty of bondage

Till they're instructed 'Tis no less their gain
Than duty to obey their master's mandate.
Conduct the people hither, one by one,
To bow to Gesler's cap.

Sar. Bow, slave.

Mic. For what?

Enter MICHAEL.

Sar. Obey, and question then.

Mic. I'll question now, perhaps not then obey.
Tell. A man! a man!

Sar. 'Tis Gesler's will that all

Bow to that cap.

Mic. Were it thy lady's cap,

I'd curtsey to it.

Sar. Do you mock us, friend?

Mic. Not I. I'll bow to Gesler, if you please;

But not his cap, nor cap of

In Christendom!

any he

Tell. A man!--I say a man!

Sar. I see you love a jest; but jest not now Else you may make us mirth, and pay for't too. Bow to the

cap.

Tell. The slave would humour him.

Mic. Slave!

Tell. Verner, let go my arm!-Do you hear me, man?

You must not hold me, Verner

Sar. Villain, bow

To Gesler's cap.

Mic. No-not to Gesler's self!

Sar. Seize him!

Tell. Off, off, you base and hireling pack

Lay not your brutal touch upon the thing
Crouch yourselves;

God made in his own image.

'Tis your vocation, which you should not call On freeborn men to share with you, who stand Erect, except in presence of their God

Alone!

Sar. What! shrink you, cowards? Must I do Your duty for you?

Tell. Let them but stir-I've scatter'd

A flock of wolves that did outnumber them,—
For sport I did it. Sport! I scatter'd them
With but a staff, not half so thick as this.

[Sarnem flies.
What!-Ha!-Beset by hares! Ye men of Altorf
What fear ye? See what things you fear the shows
And surfaces of men! Why stand you wondering there?
Why look you on a man that's like yourselves,
And see him do the deeds yourselves might do,
And act them not? Or know you not yourselves?
That ye are men?-that ye have hearts and thoughts
To feel and think the deeds of men, and hands
To do them? You do say your prayers, and make
Confession, and you more do fear the thing
That kneels to God, than you fear God himself!
You hunt the chamois, and you've seen him take
The precipice before he'd yield the freedom

His Maker gave

him; and you are content
To live in bonds, that have a thought of freedom,
Which Heaven ne'er gave the little chamois !
Why gaze you still with blanched cheeks upon me?
Lack you the manhood even to look on,

And see bold deeds achieved by others' hands?
Or is't that cap still holds your thralls to fear?
Be free, then! There! Thus do I trample on
The insolence of Gesler!

[Throws down the pole. -KNOWLES.

ON THE ADVANTAGES AND PLEASURES OF SCIENTIFIC PURSUITS.

In order fully to understand the advantages and the pleasures which are derived from an acquaintance with any science, it is necessary to become acquainted with that science; and it would therefore be impossible to convey a complete knowledge of the benefits conferred by a study of

the various sciences which have hitherto been cultivated by philosophers, without teaching all the branches of them. But a very distinct idea may be given of those benefits, by explaining the nature and objects of the different sciences: it may be shown, by examples, how much use and-gratification there is in learning a part of any one branch of knowledge, and it may thence be inferred how great reason there is to learn the whole.

It may easily be demonstrated that there is an advantage in learning, both for the usefulness and the pleasure of it. There is something positively agreeable to all men, to all at least whose nature is not most grovelling and base, in gaining knowledge for its own sake. When you see any thing for the first time, you at once derive some gratification from the sight being new; your attention is awakened, and you desire to know more about it. If it is a piece of workmanship, as an instrument, a machine of any kind, you wish to know how it is made; how it works; and what use it is of. If it is an animal, you desire to know where it comes from; how it lives; what are its dispositions, and generally, its nature and habits. You feel this desire, too, without at all considering that the machine or the animal may ever be of the least use to yourself practically; for, in all probability, you may never see them again. But you have a curiosity to learn all about them, because they are new and unknown. You accordingly make inquiries; you feel a gratification in getting answers to your questions, that is, in receiving information, and in knowing more,-in being better informed than you were before. If you happen again to see the same instrument or animal, you find it agreeable to recollect having seen it formerly, and to think that you know something about it. If you see another instrument or animal, in some respects like, but differing in other particulars, you find it pleasing to compare them together, and to note in what they agree and in what they differ. Now, all this kind of gratification is of a pure and disinterested nature, and has no reference to any of the common purposes of life; yet it is a pleasure-an enjoyment. You are nothing the richer for it; you do not gratify your palate or any other bodily appetite; and yet it is so pleasing, that you would give something out of your pocket to obtain it, and would forego some bodily enjoyment for its sake. The pleasure derived from science is exactly of the like nature, or rather, it is the very same.