Mal. Neither; your whore went down with the stews, and your punk came up with your puritan.
Men. Canst thou empoison? canst thou empoison?
Mal. Excellently; no Jew, pothecary, or politician better. Look ye, here’s a box: whom wouldst thou empoison? here’s a box [Giving it], which, opened and the fume ta’en[548] up in conduits[549] thorough which the brain purges itself, doth instantly for twelve hours’ space bind up all show of life in a deep senseless sleep: here’s another [Giving it], which, being opened under the sleeper’s nose, chokes all the pores[550] of life, kills him suddenly. 235
Men. I’ll try experiments; ’tis good not to be deceived.—So, so; catso!
[Seems to poison Malevole, who falls.
Who would fear that may destroy?
Death hath no teeth nor[551] tongue;
And he that’s great, to him are slaves, 240
Shame, murder, fame, and wrong.—
Celso!
Enter Celso.
Celso. My honour’d lord?
Men. The good Malevole, that plain-tongu’d man,
Alas, is dead on sudden, wondrous strangely!
He held in our esteem good place. Celso,
See him buried, see him buried.