Lest your old servant be o’er-labor’d still
With toilsome characters, the running slave,
The eating parasite, enrag’d old man,
The bold-fac’d sharper, covetous procurer;
Parts, that ask pow’rs of voice, and iron sides.
Deign then, for my sake, to accept this plea,
And grant me some remission from my labor.
For they, who now produce new comedies,
Spare not my age! If there is aught laborious,
They run to me; but if of little weight,