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THE ROBBERS

changed our solemn plighted oaths, that no other love,—even after death—What an impious wretch art thou,—how execrable!—Quit my sight!

Francis.

You know me not, Amelia.—Still, still you know me not.

Amelia.

O I know you well,—most completely well at this instant.—And you my Charles's confidant! Yes sure—to you he would have opened all his soul;—on your bosom he would have shed those tears for me! sigh'd forth my name in your blasted ear.—As soon would he have written it on the pillory!—Quit my sight!

Francis.

You insult me grossly, Madam.

Amelia.

Quit my sight!—Thou hast robb'd me of a precious hour. May it be counted on thy worthless life!

Francis.

You hate me then?

Amelia.

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