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THE ROBBERS.
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such tidings—you know it.—Perhaps 'tis some poor wretch who comes to me for charity—for relief—he shall not go hence in sorrow.

(Exit Daniel.

Amelia.

A beggar!—and he is let in at once!

O. Moor.

Amelia! Oh spare me, my child!

Enter Francis, Herman in disguise, and Daniel.

Francis.

Here is the man, Sir. He says he has terrible news for you.—Can you bear to hear it, Sir?

O. Moor.

I know but one thing terrible to hear.—Speak it out, friend.—Give him some wine there.

Herman.

(In a feigned voice.) Will your honour take no offence at a poor man because he brings you bad news?—'tis against his will. I am a stranger in this country—but I know you well: you are the father of Charles de Moor.

I 2
O. Moor.
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