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SCENE IV.

Angus.
Now, the loud Tempest of the toilful Day
Subsides into a Calm.—And yet my Soul
Still labours thro' the Storm!—By Day or Night,
In florid Youth, or mellow Age, scarce fleets

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One Hour without its Care!—Not Sleep itself
Is ever balmy; for the shadowy Dream
Oft bears substantial Woe!