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Rh

We shall disturb his slumbers.

Sent off without a kiss of kind endearment?

Thine eye pursues him with a mournful look: Thou fear'st, perhaps, an early fate may snap His thread of life, like his lamented uncle's.

No; past and future are but shadowy visions; Dark cumb'rous things which we must cast aside To make the present hour endurable. Who waits without?—A cup of wine, I pray; I'm tir'd and faint.

Indeed, thou seem'st unwell: I fear thou bring'st not back thy wonted health.

I'm well,—I was in health, but this damp region, I breathe not in it but with breath suppress'd. Thou know'st right well I never liked this place: Why art thou here?