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And let it growl; and be the welkin pall'd In sackcloth! To the spot where I am going We'll find the way by instinct.—Linger not: Do what I have desired thee instantly.

Ay, ay! the saddle upon Oscar's back. The bran new saddle would your honour have?

Yes, fool, and set about it instantly. [Exit. These dark and heavy bodings of my mind Come from no natural bent of apprehension. It must be so. Yet, be it dream or vision, Unmeaning chance, or preternatural notice, As oft hath been vouchsafed, if living seers Or old tradition lie not,—this uncertainty Ere morning dawn would drive my brain distracted, Were I inactively to wait for day; Therefore, to horse! (Thunder louder than before.) That sound is in accordance with the storm In this perturbed breast. Is it not ominous Of that which soon shall strike me to the dust, A blasted lonely remnant?— Methinks he should ere this—time flies apace; The listless sluggard must be urged to hasten His so unwilling task.[Exit hastily.