Page:The robbers - a tragedy (IA robberstragedy00schiiala).pdf/41

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THE ROBBERS.
17

icy hand, thou fiend, and shudder at the touch!—Oh how sweet,—how delicious the curse of a dying father!

Francis

You rave, my child! I pity you!

Amelia

Dost thou so?—Dost thou pity thy brother?—No, savage, thou hatest him! Thou hatest me too, I hope.

Francis.

I love thee, Amelia,—as my own soul I love thee.

Amelia.

Well!—If you love me, can you refuse me one small request?

Francis.

Nothing can I refuse thee,—were it my life itself.

Amelia.

Well then!—I ask what you will grant, with all your soul.—(Proudly.)—I ask you to—hate me! I should die for shame, if, while I thought on Charles, I could for a moment believe that thou didst not hate me.—Promise me that thou wilt, and go,—villain as thou art,—leave me.

C
Francis.
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