|
The pothecarie answerde, "And thou shalt have |
| A thyng, that al so God my soule save, |
| 575 | In al this world ther is no creature |
| That eten or dronken hath of this confiture |
| Noght but the montance of a corn of whete, |
| That he ne shal his lif anon forlete; |
| Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lasse while |
| 580 | Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a mile, |
| This poysoun is so strong and violent." |
| This cursed man hath in his hond yhent |
| This poysoun in a box, and sith he ran |
| Into the nexte strete unto a man, |
| 585 | And borwed of hym large botels thre; |
| And in the two his poyson poured he; |
| The thridde he kepte clene for his owene drynke. |
| For al the nyght he shoop hym for to swynke |
| In cariynge of the gold out of that place. |
| 590 | And whan this riotour, with sory grace, |
| Hadde filed with wyn his grete botels thre, |
| To hise felawes agayn repaireth he. |
|
| The apothecary said: "And you shall have |
| A thing of which, so God my spirit save, |
| 575 | In all this world there is no live creature |
| That's eaten or has drunk of this mixture |
| As much as equals but a grain of wheat, |
| That shall not sudden death thereafter meet; |
| Yea, die he shall, and in a shorter while |
| 580 | Than you require to walk but one short mile; |
| This poison is so violent and strong." |
| This wicked man the poison took along |
| With him boxed up, and then he straightway ran |
| Into the street adjoining, to a man, |
| 585 | And of him borrowed generous bottles three; |
| And into two his poison then poured he; |
| The third one he kept clean for his own drink. |
| For all that night he was resolved to swink |
| In carrying the florins from that place. |
| 590 | And when this roisterer, with evil grace, |
| Had filled with wine his mighty bottles three, |
| Then to his comrades forth again went he. |
|
