Page:The robbers - a tragedy (IA robberstragedy00schiiala).pdf/186

Captain, this is the hour of midnight—sleep hangs heavy on our eye-lids—we have not shut an eye these three nights.

And can soft Sleep rest on the murderer's lids? Why flies he then from me?—But I have been of late a dastard—a mere changeling. Blow your trumpets, I command you—I must have music to rouse my spirit from its lethargy. (They play a warlike piece of music—Moor walks about very thoughtful, and then gives a signal for them to stop.) Begone! Good night!—I'll talk to you to-morrow.

The Robbers lay themselves down on the ground, and one by one salute him. Good night, Captain. (They fall asleep.)

(Alone awake, while there is a profound silence.) A long, long night!—on which no morrow e'er shall dawn.—Think you that I will tremble?—Shadows of the dead, the murder'd,—rise! no joint of me shall quake.—Your dying agonies,