Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Rom. Rom.
Rom. Come hither man, I see that thou art poore,
Rom. Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue
Rom. A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare,
Rom. As will disperse it selfe through all the veines,
Rom. That the life‑wearie‑taker may fall dead,
Rom. And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath,
Rom. As violently, as hastie powder fier'd
Rom. Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe.
App. App.
App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law
App. Is death to any he, that vtters them.
Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse,
Rom. And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes,
Rom. Need and opression starueth in thy eyes,
Rom. Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe i
Rom. The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law:
Rom. The world affords no law to make thee rich.
Rom. Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this.