P ut this in any liquid thing you will, A nd drink it off; and, if you had the strength O f twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
T here is thy gold, worse poison to men’s souls, D oing more murders in this loathsome world,
T han these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. F arewell: buy food, and get thyself in fl esh. C ome, cordial and not poison, go with me T o Juliet’s grave; for there must I use thee.
