Brach. An armorer! ud's death, an armorer!
Flam. Armorer! where's the armorer?
Brach. Tear off my beaver.
Flam. Are you hurt, my lord?
Brach. O, my brain's on fire!
Enter Armorer.
The helmet is poisoned.
Armorer. My lord, upon my soul,—
Brach. Away with him to torture!
There are some great ones that have hand in this,
And near about me.
Vit. Cor. O my loved lord! poisoned!
Flam. Remove the bar. Here's unfortunate revels!
Call the physicians.
Enter two Physicians.
A plague upon you!
We have too much of your cunning here already:
I fear the ambassadors are likewise poisoned.
Brach. O, I am gone already! the infection
Flies to the brain and heart. O thou strong heart!
There's such a covenant 'tween the world and it,
They're loth to break.
Giov. O my most lovèd father!
Brach. Remove the boy away.—
Where's this good woman?—Had I infinite worlds,
They were too little for thee: must I leave thee?—
What say you, screech-owls, is the venom mortal?
1st Phys. Most deadly.
Brach. Most corrupted politic hangman,
You kill without book; but your art to save
Fails you as oft as great men's needy friends.
I that have given life to offending slaves
And wretched murderers, have I not power
To lengthen mine own a twelvemonth?—
Do not kiss me, for I shall poison thee.
This unction's sent from the great Duke of Florence.
Fran. de Med. Sir, be of comfort.
Brach. O thou soft natural death, that art joint-twin
To sweetest slumber! no rough-bearded comet
Stares on thy mild departure; the dull owl
Beats not against thy casement; the hoarse wolf
Scents not thy carrion: pity winds thy corse,
Whilst horror waits on princes.
Vit. Cor. I am lost for ever.
Brach. How miserable a thing it is to die
Mongst women howling!