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Rh

Press'd with the glutton feasting of the day. (Knocking louder than before.) Canst thou not hear? Holla! ho! rouse thee, Culloch! The heavy sluggard!—Ha! he's stirring now. (Laying his ear close to the door.)

Who's there?

It is thy master?

What is wanted? It is not morning yet.

That drawling voice! He is not yet awake. (Very loud.) Rise, man, immediately: Open the door, and do what I desire thee. (To himself after a short pause.) Six hours upon my gallant steed will end This agony of doubt.—I'll know my fate— Joy or despair.He is asleep again. (Knocking as before.) Make haste, make haste, I say! inert and sluggish! O that, like spirits, on the tempest borne, The transit could be made! Alas! alas! If what I fear hath happen'd, speed or stillness,