I am not fashioned thus; when you last year
Were sick to death, then I was busy too
About self-slaughter that I might not live
To see your death; and now that you know this
Know yet another thing. If I should chance,
Yes I, to be a-dying, I could do
What you dread at Salome’s hands, I could
A poison mix and give it you in wine,
That even in death I might be sure of you.
Mar.