JUS.  Lay hands on him; are you a poison-seller? 
Bring him before us:  sirrah, what say you? 
Sold you a poison to this honest man?

FUL.  I sold no poison, but I gave him one
To kill his rats?

JUS.  Ha, ha!  I smell a rat. 
You sold him poison then to kill his rats? 
The word to kill argues a murd’rous mind;
And you are brought in compass of the murder
So set him by, we will not hear him speak: 
That Arthur, Fuller, and the schoolmaster,
Shall by the judges be examined.

ANS.  Sir, if my friend may not speak for himself,
Yet let me his proceedings justify.

JUS.  What’s he that will a murther justify? 
Lay hands on him, lay hands on him, I say;
For justifiers are all accessories,
And accessories have deserved to die. 
Away with him! we will not hear him speak;
They all shall to the High Commissioners.

    Enter MISTRESS ARTHUR.

MRS ART.  Nay, stay them, stay them yet a little while! 
I bring a warrant to the contrary;
And I will please all parties presently.

Y. ART.  I think my wife’s ghost haunts me to my death;
Wretch that I was, to shorten her life’s breath!

O. ART.  Whom do I see, my son’s wife?

O. LUS.  What, my daughter?

JUS.  Is it not Mistress Arthur that we see,
That long since buried we suppos’d to be?

MRS ART.  This man’s condemn’d for pois’ning of his wife;
His poison’d wife yet lives, and I am she;
And therefore justly I release his bands: 
This man, for suff’ring him these drugs to take,
Is likewise bound, release him for my sake: 
This gentleman that first the poison gave,
And this his friend, to be releas’d I crave: 
Murther there cannot be where none is kill’d;
Her blood is sav’d, whom you suppos’d was spill’d. 
Father-in-law, I give you here your son,
The act’s to do which you suppos’d was done. 
And, father, now joy in your daughter’s life,
Whom heaven hath still kept to be Arthur’s wife.

O. ART.  O, welcome, welcome, daughter! now I see
God by his power hath preserved thee.

O. LUS.  And ’tis my wench, whom I suppos’d was dead;
My joy revives, and my sad woe is fled.

Y. ART.  I know not what I am, nor where I am;
My soul’s transported to an ecstasy,
For hope and joy confound my memory.

MRS MA.  What do I see? lives Arthur’s wife again? 
Nay then I labour for his death in vain. [Aside.

BRA.  What secret force did in her nature lurk,
That in her soul the poison would not work? [Aside.

MRS SPLAY.  How can it be the poison took no force? 
She lives with that which would have kill’d a horse! [Aside.

MRS ART.  Nay, shun me not; be not asham’d at all;
To heaven, not me, for grace and pardon fall. 
Look on me, Arthur; blush not at my wrongs.