Page:The robbers - a tragedy (IA robberstragedy00schiiala).pdf/76

death so soon exhausted? Hum!—hum! (Musing,) What now?—No more?—Ha! I have it! Terror is the word!—What is proof against Terror? Reason, religion, hope—all must give way before this giant fiend!—And then—should he even bear the shock—there's more behind.—Anguish of mind, come aid the imperfect work!—Repentance, gnawing viper of the soul—monster that ruminatest thy baneful food!—And thou Remorse! that livest on thy mother's flesh, and wast'st thine own inheritance!—And you, even you, ye powers of Grace and Mercy! give your aid! Ye blissful years o'erpast, display your charms to memory's fond retrospect, and poison with your sweets the present hour!—Ye scenes of future bliss, combine to wound—shew him the joys of paradise before him, and hold the dazzling mirror out to hope, but cheat his feeble grasp!—Thus let me play my battery of death—stroke after stroke incessant—till nature's mound is broken—and the whole troop of furies seize the soul, and end their work by horror and despair! Triumphant thought!—So now—the plan's my own! Now for the work!

Ha! Deus ex machinâ! Herman!