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Enter, puffing and blowing as she passes, with a large kettle and stand.

July!—July my dear!—What's your haste! Here I'm!—Here I'm!—In dark corner plac'd! O Lud!—Ohon!—Oh! favour me kettle! By thy weight at this place make her settle!— She's gone!

Still, though, I will here remain, Till, unloaded, she returns again— Oh!—alas!—Oh!—anee!—Hee!—How!—Wow!— I hear her coming, puffing not now Like fat broken winded mare—no wheeze— No cough—now, reliev'd, she moves at ease.

enters, returning, without the kettle and stand.