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THE ROBBERS.
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Moor.

(Disengaging himself from Amelia's arms.) 'Tis done!—I would have fain gone back.—But He that is in heaven has said, No! Look not thus dark upon me, Emily! He has no need of me.—Has he not millions of his creatures? He can spare one!—I am that one.—Come, friends, let us be gone! (Turning to the band.)

Amelia.

(Holding him fast.) Stop, stop! one single stroke!—a mortal stroke! Again abandoned!—O draw that sword in mercy!

Moor.

Mercy is in the tyger's heart.—I cannot kill.

Amelia.

(Embracing his knees.) O, for the love of God!—for mercy!—I ask thee not for love.—I know we are curst by Fate.—Death! death's my only prayer!—See, my hand shakes.—I cannot touch the sword—its gleaming terrifies me!—O, to thee it were so easy! inured to death.—Strike, strike, and I will bless thee!

Moor.

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