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THE ROBBERS.

dagger, force from your quivering heart the nuptial oath.——

Amelia.

(Strikes him.) Take this love-token first.

Francis.

Hah! tenfold, and twice tenfold, shall be my vengeance. My wife! No:—that honour you never shall enjoy.—You shall be my wench, my paramour.—The honest peasant's wife shall point at you,—shall hoot you in the streets.—Ay, grind your teeth!—and scatter fire and murder from those eyes.—A woman's fury is my joy, my pastime;—'tis my heart's delight to see her thus!—These struggles shall enhance my triumph.—How sweet is enjoyment when thus forced, thus ravished.—Come to the altar,—this instant come. (Endeavours to force her.)

Amelia.

(Throwing herself about his neck.) Pardon me, Francis. (When going to take her in his arms, she draws out his sword, and steps back a few paces.) See'st thou now, villain, what I can do?—I am a woman,—but a woman, when

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