Weston was spurred on to consummate the atrocity; and the
patience of all parties being exhausted, a dose of corrosive sublimate was
administered to him in October 1613, which put an end to his sufferings,
after he had been for six months in their hands. On the very day of his
death, and before his body was cold, he was wrapped up carelessly in a
sheet, and buried without any funeral ceremony in a pit within the
precincts of the Tower.

Sir Anthony Weldon, in his _Court and Character of James I._, gives a
somewhat different account of the closing scene of this tragedy. He says,
"Franklin and Weston came into Overbury's chamber, and found him in
infinite torment, with contention between the strength of nature and the
working of the poison; and it being very like that nature had gotten the
better in this contention, by the thrusting out of boils, blotches, and
blains, they, fearing it might come to light by the judgment of
physicians, the foul play that had been offered him, consented to stifle
him with the bedclothes, which accordingly was performed; and so ended his
miserable life, with the assurance of the conspirators that he died by the
poison; none thinking otherwise than these two murderers."

The sudden death, the indecent haste of the funeral, and the non-holding
of an inquest upon the body, strengthened the suspicions that were afloat.
Rumour, instead of whispering, began to speak out; and the relatives of
the deceased openly expressed their belief that their kinsman had been
murdered. But Rochester was still all powerful at court, and no one dared
to utter a word to his discredit. Shortly afterwards, his marriage with
the Countess of Essex was celebrated with the utmost splendour, the king
himself being present at the ceremony.

It would seem that Overbury's knowledge of James's character was deeper
than Rochester had given him credit for, and that he had been a true
prophet when he predicted that his marriage would eventually estrange
James from his minion. At this time, however, Rochester stood higher than
ever in the royal favour; but it did not last long--conscience, that busy
monitor, was at work. The tongue of rumour was never still; and Rochester,
who had long been a guilty, became at last a wretched man. His cheeks lost
their colour--his eyes grew dim; and he became moody, careless, and
melancholy. The king, seeing him thus, took at length no pleasure in his
society, and began to look about for another