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THE ROBBERS.

Robbers.

Halloa! halloa! What is the matter?

Moor.

Could you sleep out that tale? A tale that might have roused even sleep eternal.—Mark here, mark here! What are this world's laws? mere knavery—a game with loaded dice.—Discord is set at large, and ranges wild as hell.—The bands of nature are dissolved—a son has slain his father!

Robbers.

What does the Captain say?

Moor.

Slain! did I say—that word is tame—'tis palliative—A son has racked his father—killed him in torment—broken him on the wheel—even that is varnish of his horrible crime.—The cannibal himself would shudder at it.—Oh God! he has devoured him.—See, see there! he faints! A son confined his father in that tower—cold, naked, hungry, and athirst.—Look there, look there! This is my father!

Robbers.

(Coming round the old man.) Your father?

Switzer.

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