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Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
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SCENE III. The same. Another Room. The Cardinal in his Bed; Attendants by him: Enter King, Warwick, Salisbury, and Others.

Kin.
How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

Car.
If thou be'st death,14Q0815 I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

Kin.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

War.
Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

Car.
Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Dy'd he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'r they note will or no?
O! torture me no more, I will confess.
Alive again? then shew me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair; look, look, it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul.
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

Kin.
O thou eternal mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
O, beat away the busy medling fiend,
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's note soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair!

War.
See, how the pangs of death do make him grin.

-- 70 --

Sal.
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.

Kin.
Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!—
Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal note of thy hope.—
He dies, and makes no sign:—O God, forgive him!

War.
So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

Kin.
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.—
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.
[Exeunt.
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Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
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