savoury drugges?

_Ant_. Come one of you your selves and speake to him.

1 _Phys_. How fares your Highnesse?

_King_. Never worse:--What's he?

_Dami_. One of your Highnesse Doctors.

_King_. Come, sit neare me;
Feele my pulse once again and tell me, Doctor,
Tell me in tearmes that I may understand,--
I doe not love your gibberish,--tell me honestly
Where the Cause lies, and give a Remedy,
And that with speed; or in despight of Art,
Of Nature, you and all your heavenly motions,
Ile recollect so much of life into me
As shall give space to see you tortur'd.
Some body told me that a Bath of mans blood
Would restore me. Christians shall pay for't;
Fetch the Bishop hither, he shall begin.

_Cosm_. Hee's gone for.

_King_. What's my disease?

1 _Phys_. My Lord, you are poyson'd.

_King_. I told thee so my selfe, and told thee how:
But what's the reason that I have no helpe?
The Coffers of my Treasury are full,
Or, if they were not, tributary Christians
Bring in sufficient store to pay your fees,
If that you gape at.

2 _Phys_. Wilt please your Highnesse then to take this Cordiall?
Gold never truely did you good till now.

_King_. 'Tis gone.

2 _Phys_. My Lord, it was the perfectst tincture
Of Gold that ever any Art produc'd:
With it was mixt a true rare Quintessence
Extracted out of Orientall Bezar,[158]
And with it was dissolv'd the Magisteriall
Made of the Horne _Armenia_ so much boast of;
Which, though dull Death had usurp't Natures right,
Is able to create new life agen.

_King_. Why does it good on men and not on Kings?
We have the selfe-same passages for Nature
With mortall men; our pulses beate like theirs:
We are subiect unto passions as they are.
I finde it now, but to my griefe I finde,
Life stands not with us on such ticklish points,
What is't, because we are Kings, Life takes it leave
With greater state? No, no; the envious Gods
Maligne our happinesse. Oh that my breath had power
With my last words to blast their Deities.

1 _Phys_. The Cordiall that you tooke requires rest:
For healths sake, good my Lord, repose your selfe.

_King_. Yes, any thing for health; draw round the Curtaines.

_Dami_. Wee'le watch by him whilst you two doe consult.

1 _Phys_. What guesse you by that Urine?

2 _Phys_. Surely Death!

1 _Phys_. Death certaine, without contradiction,
For though the Urin be a whore and lies,
Yet where I finde her in all parts agree
With other Symtomes of apparent death
I