Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
King. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
20 Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
[♦] O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
[♦] That lays strong siege unto this wretch’s soul
And from his bosom purge this black despair!
War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin!
25 Sal. Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.
[♦] King. Peace to his soul, if God’s good pleasure be!