Only the vilest rabble show themselves, And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us. All honest citizens would sooner make A weary circuit over half the town, Than bend their backs before our master's cap.
They were obliged to pass this way at noon, As they were coming from the Council House. I counted then upon a famous catch, For no one thought of bowing to the cap, But Rösselmann, the priest, was even with me: Coming just then from some sick man, he takes His stand before the pole--lifts up the Host-- The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell-- When down they dropp'd on knee--myself and all-- In reverence to the Host, but not the cap.
Hark ye, companion, I've a shrewd suspicion, Our post's no better than the pillory. It is a burning shame, a trooper should Stand sentinel before an empty cap, And every honest fellow must despise us. To do obeisance to a cap, too! Faith, I never heard an order so absurd!
Why not, an't please you, to an empty cap? You've duck'd, I'm sure, to many an empty sconce.
[HILDEGARD, MECHTHILD, _and_ ELSBETH _enter with their children, and station themselves around the pole_.]
And you are a time-serving sneak that takes Delight in bringing honest folks to harm. For my part, he that likes may pass the cap:-- I'll shut my eyes and take no note of him.
There hangs the Viceroy! Your obeisance, children!
I would to God he'd go, and leave his cap! The country would be none the worse for it.
Out of the way! Confounded pack of gossips! Who sent for you? Go, send your husbands here, If they have courage to defy the order.
[TELL _enters with his cross-bow, leading his son_ WALTER _by the hand. They pass the hat without noticing it, and advance to the front of the stage_.]
Father, is't true, that on the mountain there The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed?
The master herdsman, father! He tells us there's a charm upon the trees, And if a man shall injure them, the hand That struck the blow will grow from out the grave.
There is a charm about them--that's the truth. Dost see those glaciers yonder--those white horns-- That seem to melt away into the sky?
They are the peaks that thunder so at night, And send the avalanches down upon us.
They are; and Altdorf long ago had been Submerged beneath these avalanches' weight, Did not the forest there above the town Stand like a bulwark to arrest their fall.