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The Lord forgive him that, if it be so!— And quickly, too; for this same deadly fever, As I hear say, has seized upon him also.

That's well, good damsels; you have done your task Right thoroughly: a wholesome, fragrant smell Is floating all about. Where is your master?

In his own chamber. When he knows your honour Is in the house, he will attend you presently.

And it will do him good to see your honour.

I fear, my joe, the good that I can do him, Or ev'n the minister, if he were here, Would be but little. Grief must have its time. Some opiate drug would be to him, I reckon, Worth all my company, and something more. Howbeit, I'll go to him. My good old friend! My heart bleeds for him.—Ye have done enough; The ladies are at hand. [Exit by the opposite side.