And tell not me the cause o’ this, their flight.
My brain grows hot, I can no longer bear it.
Forbid his presence, too! O! I am distracted!
If sleep will quiet me, I’ll to the poppy,
And with its juices drench these fev’rous lips!
Yes! I ha’ need of med’cine and of comfort!
Again, my wits do wander: I’ll retire;
And lest the bleak winds battle with my head,
I’ll to my couch, and lay me on its pillow.
[Exit.