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THE ROBBERS.

Francis.

Charming enthusiast! How that empassioned soul enchants me! (Puts his hand on Amelia's heart.) Sweet flutterer! Palace of delight, where Charles reign'd sole monarch.—Temple sacred to his divinity!—He was ever present to those beauteous eyes—present even in thy dreams.—In him all animated being seemed concentrated.—Creation itself spoke but of Charles alone to that enraptured soul!

Amelia.

(With great emotion.) Yes!—I own it was so!—Yes, in spite of you, barbarians, to the world I will avow it.—I love him—I adore him!

Francis.

How ungenerous, how cruel! to make so ill a return to so much fondness—nay, to forget——

Amelia.

Forget!—What mean'st thou, wretch?

Francis.

Wore he not once a ring of yours;—a ring you put yourself upon his finger? A diamond ring, a pledge of your fond love? It is a hard trial, I own, for the heat of youthful blood—and hardly

resistible

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