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Updated: May 8, 2025
Avaunt! stand of! she has poysond me, her lips Are sault as sulpher, and her breath infects, Noe scorpions like it. Lady. What ayles you, Sir? Thu. Ha, ha, ha! Those who imagine such prodigious mischiefes Should be more cunning then to be ore reacht By puisne cosnage; Have you no more judgement Then to beleive I lov'd you. Lady. Doe you not love me then? Thu.
Can ye blame him, Captaine, when such a den of dog whelps Are fosterd here against him? You will rouse anon: There are old Companies sure, honest and faithfull, That are not poysond with this ranck infection. Now they appeare, Sir. Enter Captaine on the walls. 1 Cap. Will your Grace please to enter? Or. And thanck ye too. 1 Cap. The Port is open for ye. Or. You see my number. 1 Cap.
To smell of a nosegay, that was poysond: and turne your nose to a house, that had the plague, it was all one. The clouds like a number of cormorants, that keepe their corne till it stinke and is mustie, kept in their stinking exhalations, till they had almost stifled all Romes inhabitants. Phisitions, greedines of golde made them greedie of their destinie.
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