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THE ROBBERS.

water in his brains, I'll warrant him,—and curses the hardship of the times.

Razman.

Great and masterly, by heaven!—Spiegelberg, thou hast a charm, like Orpheus, to lull the yelling Cerberus, conscience.—Take me to yourself;—I am yours for ever.

Grimm.

—And let them call it infamy.—What then? At the worst, 'tis but carrying a small dose of powder in our pocket, which will send us quietly over Styx,—to take a nap in that country where no cocks will crow to waken us—Courage, Maurice!—that's Grimm's confession of faith. (Gives him his hand.)

Schufterle

—Zounds! What a hurly-burly's in this head of mine. It's a fair auction:—Mountebanks, Lotteries,—Alchymists,—Pickpockets,—you have all your chance;—and he that offers most, shall have me.—Give me your hand, cousin.

Switzer.

(Comes forward slowly, and gives his hand to

Spiegelberg.)

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