"I do remember an apothecary, And hereabouts a' dwells, which late I noted In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, Culling of simples; meagre were his looks; Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, An alligator stuff'd and other skins Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves A beggarly account of empty boxes, Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. Noting this penury, to myself I said, An if a man did need a poison now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him."