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Scene, A Chamber.

Ocypus solus.
Ocyp.
Come, O my Comfort, my Supporter, come,
My Staff, my third best Leg, O! now uphold
My tott'ring Footsteps, and direct my Way,
That lightly on the Earth my Foot may tread.
Wretch, from thy Pallet raise thy heavy Limbs,
And quit the cover'd Closeness of the Room.
Dispell the Cloud, that weighs thy Eyelids down,
In open Day, and in the golden Sun
On purer Air thy enliven'd Spirit feast.
For now my willing Mind invites me forth;
But the weak Flesh refuses to comply.
Be resolute, my Soul; for well thou know'st,

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The Gouty Wretch, that wou'd but cannot move,
Ought to be number'd with th'inactive Dead.
Come on.

Exit Ocypus.