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The Castle of Indolence.
LXXIV.
To this dark Den, where Sickness toss'd alway.
Here Lethargy, with deadly Sleep opprest,
Stretch'd on his Back a mighty Lubbard lay,
Heaving his Sides, and snored Night and Day;
To stir him from his Traunce it was not eath,
And his half-open'd Eyne he shut strait way:
He led, I wot, the softest Way to Death,
And taught withouten Pain and Strife to yield the Breath.
LXXV.
Soft-swoln and pale, here lay the Hydropsy:
Unwieldy Man! with Belly monstrous round,
For ever fed with watery Supply;
For still he drank, and yet he still was dry.
And moping here did Hypochondria sit,
Mother of Spleen, in Robes of various Dye,
Who vexed was full oft with ugly Fit;
And some Her frantic deem'd, & some Her deem'd a Wit.
LXXVI.