Page:The robbers - a tragedy (IA robberstragedy00schiiala).pdf/218

Heaven knows how dear he was to me! O why did my weak heart ever listen to those artful tales of basest calumny? I was so happy! above all fathers blest in the fair promise of my childrens youth.—But, Oh accursed hour! the spirit of a fiend possessed the youngest of my sons—I trusted to the serpent's wiles, and lost—both my children! (Hides his face with his hands. Moor goes to a little distance.) How deeply now I feel the truth of those sad words Amelia uttered, "In vain, when on your death-bed, you shall stretch your feeble hands to grasp your Charles—he never will approach your bed—never more comfort you." (Moor, turning away his head, gives him his hand.) Oh were this my Charles's hand! But he is gone!—He's in the narrow house! he sleeps the sleep of death!—He cannot hear the voice of my complaint!—I must die amidst the strangers—No son have I to close my eyes!

(In great agitation.) It must be so—it must this moment. (To the Robbers.) Leave us alone!—And yet—can I bring back his son?—I never can bring back that son!—No, no, it must not be.—No, never, never!——