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THE ROBBERS.

Grimm.

(Furiously.) Stop, Traitor! leave her arms this instant!—or I will speak a word that shall appal you to the soul!

Switzer.

(Interposes his sword between Moor and Grimm.) Think on the forest of Bohemia! Mark'st thou that? Think on the forest of Bohemia! Traitor! Where are thy oaths?—Are all our wounds forgot? our fortune, honour, life, despised for thee? our sufferings, more than mortal, set at nought! Didst thou not then lift up that hand to heaven, and swear—swear never to forsake us—never to desert those who have been true to thee?—Foul, faithless, basest traitor!—To sell us for a woman's tears!

The Robbers,

(Murmuring confusedly, uncover their breasts.) Look here! look at these wounds!—We bought thee with our blood! Thou art our bondman—ours thou art!—If the Archangel Michael should seek to wrest thee from the Prince of hell—thou art ours.—Come! come along! a victim for a victim! a woman for the band!

Moor.

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