Page:The robbers - a tragedy (IA robberstragedy00schiiala).pdf/193
Enter, from the dungeon, the Old Count de Moor.
O. Moor.
I thank thee, O my God! the hour of my deliverance is come!
Moor.
Shade of the aged Moor! who has disturbed thy ashes in the grave? Hast thou brought with thee into the world of spirits some foul crime, that bars the gates of paradise on thy soul?—I will say prayers and masses of the dead, to gain thy spirit peace.—Hast thou hid in the earth the widow or the orphan's gold; and now, in expiation of that guilt, pour'st at the midnight hour the shriek of misery?—I'll dig that treasure up, though guarded by hell's dragons.—Or comest thou now, at my request, to expound to me the dread enigmas of eternity? Speak, speak! I will not blanch, nor stop the affrighted ear!
O. Moor.
I am no spirit—but alive, as thou art! O life indeed of misery!
Moor.
What! wast thou not in thy grave?