Page:The robbers - a tragedy (IA robberstragedy00schiiala).pdf/192
lower world, and take account of all the deeds of darkness?—Oh! if thou art, be welcome to this tower of horrors!
Moor.
Traveller of the night! you have divined my function—the Exterminating Angel is my name—but I am flesh and blood, as thou art.—Is this some miserable wretch, cast out of men, and buried in this dungeon? I will loose his chains.—Once more speak! thou Voice of terror! Where is the door?
Herman.
As soon could Satan force the gates of heaven, as thou that door.—Retire, thou man of strength! the genius of the wicked soils the common intellect of man. (Strikes the door with his sword.)
Moor.
But not the craft of robbers. (He takes some pass-keys from his pocket.) For once, I thank my God I've learnt that craft! These keys would mock hell's foresight. (He takes a key, and opens the gate of the tower.—An old man comes from below, emaciated like a skeleton. Moor springs back with affright.) Horrible spectre! my father!
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