Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them.
Fer.
485 So they are:
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, [nor] this man’s threats,
To whom I am subdued, [are] but light to me,
490 Might I but through my prison once a day