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THE ROBBERS.
129

Amelia.

No more.—Thus every joy of life must vanish. (Takes his hand affectionately.) Count! All sublunary bliss is vain!

Moor.

'Tis even so! most true! Can you have proved that truth already?—you, who scarcely yet have seen your twentieth year?

Amelia.

Yes, I have proved it!—We are called into life, only to die in sorrow.—We gain a little, that we may lose it with tears;—we engage our heart—only that those hearts may break!—

Moor.

What! have you already lost so much?

Amelia.

Nothing!—all!—nothing!

Moor.

And would you learn forgetfulness in that holy garb that lies there?

R
Amelia.
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