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 Cromwell. At last!
 * [He rubs his hands in glee.

16.—

Rochester [aside.]The cup is full, and Noll must drink of it. Egad! he'll have a glorious nap, poor man! I drained the phial dry.—But, in good sooth, I serve him well.—I save him from remorse; Thanks to my kind attention, he will sleep More soundly than for many a weary day.


 * [Aloud.

My lord—
 * [Aside.

Still must I stand on ceremony.
 * [Aloud.

Pray drink this draught that my own hands have blest. Cromwell [sneeringly. Oh! you have blest it? Rochester. Yes. [Aside.]Gad! what a look! Cromwell.'Tis well; this draught is like to do me good? Rochester.Ay, hippocras possesses wondrous power To make one sleep. Cromwell. In that case, drink yourself!

Rochester [drawing back in dismay. My lord!—
 * [Aside.] A veritable thunderbolt!