  As soon as he could recover his wits he cried out--

Have thy wish, poor soul! an thou had poisoned a hundred men thou
shouldst not suffer so miserable a death.

The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and burst into passionate
expressions of gratitude--ending with--

If ever thou shouldst know misfortune--which God forefend!--may thy
goodness to me this day be remembered and requited!

Tom turned to the Earl of Hertford, and said--

My lord, is it believable that there was warrant for this mans
ferocious doom?

It is the law, your Grace--for poisoners.