200

205

210

Of God, that sholde live so mery as I!"
And atte laste the feend, our enemy,

Putte in his thought that he shold poyson beye,
With which he mighte sleen his felawes tweye;
For-why the feend fond him in swich lyvinge,
That he had leve him to sorwe bringe,
For this was outrely his fulle entente
To sleen hem bothe, and never to repente.
And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie,
Into the toun, un-to a pothecarie,

And preyed him, that he him wolde selle
Some poyson, that he mighte his rattes quelle ;
And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe,
That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde y-slawe,
And fayn he wolde wreke him, if he mighte,
On vermin, that destroyed him by nighte.

The pothecarie answerde, "And thou shalt have

A thing that, al-so God my soule save,

215

In al this world ther nis no creature,

That ete or dronke hath of this confiture

Noght but the mountance of a corn of whete,
That he ne shal his lyf anon forlete;

as I!" By and by the fiend, our enemy, put it into his
thought to buy poison, with which he might slay his two
companions; because the fiend found him leading such a life
that he had permission to bring him to sorrow, for his settled
intention was to slay them both and never to repent. Forth
to an apothecary
he went he would wait no longer

in the town, and asked for some poison with which he might
kill his rats, and also there was a polecat in his yard that,
as he said, had slain his capons, and he wanted vengeance,
if possible, on vermin that destroyed his property by night.
The apothecary answered: "Thou shalt have a mixture
that, as I hope God may save my soul, in all the world no
even a bit as large as a
creature may eat or drink of it
grain of wheat—without losing his life right away. Yes,

Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lasse whyle
Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a myle;
This poyson is so strong and violent."

This cursed man hath in his hond y-hent
This poyson in a box, and sith he ran
In-to the nexte strete, un-to a man,
And borwed of him large botels three;
And in the two his poyson poured he;
The thridde he kepte clene for his drinke.
For al the night he shoop him for to swinke
In caryinge of the gold out of that place.
And whan this ryotour, with sory grace,
Had filled with wyn his grete botels three,
To his felawes agayn repaireth he.

What nedeth it to sermone of it more?
For right as they had cast his deeth bifore,
Right so they han him slayn, and that anon.

220

225

230

235

And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon,

"Now lat us sitte and drinke, and make us merie,
And afterward we wol his body berie."

And with that word it happed him, par cas,
To take the botel ther the poyson was,

240

he will die in less time than thou canst travel a mile at a foot-pace, the poison is so strong and violent."

The cursed man took the box of poison, and ran to a man in the next street, and borrowed three large bottles from him; in two he poured his poison, the third he kept clean for his own use. He planned to spend the whole night in carrying the gold out of the place. Now when this rioter (the villain!) had filled his three large bottles with wine, he again repaire to his comrades.

What's the use of preaching any more? For just as they' planned, they slew him right away. When this was done, one said: "Now let us sit down and drink and make merry, and then we will bury his body." With that word he happened by chance to take up the bottle containing poison,

245

5

And drank, and yaf his felawe drinke also,
For which anon they storven bothe two.
But, certes, I suppose that Avicen

Wroot never in no canon, ne in no fen,
Mo wonder signes of empoisoning

Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir ending.
Thus ended been thise homicydes two,

And eek the false empoysoner also.

Chaucers Wordes unto Adam, His Owne Scriveyn

Adam scriveyn, if ever it thee bifalle

Boece or Troilus to wryten newe,

Under thy lokkes thou most have the scalle,

But after my making thou wryte trewe.

So ofte a daye I mot thy werk renewe,

Hit to correcte and eek to rubbe and scrape;
And al is thorow thy negligence and rape.

and drank, and gave it to his companion to drink, as a result
of which both died.

But certainly I suppose that Avicenna never wrote in any book or in any chapter more notable symptoms of poisoning than these wretches had before their ending. Thus died these two murderers, and also the false poisoner.

Adam my scribe, if it befall thee to copy again Boethius or Troilus, under thy locks thou oughtest to have the scab, unless thou copy accurately according to my composition. So often I have to go over thy work, to correct and rub and scratch it; and all is through thy negligence and haste.

ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH POPULAR BALLADS
Sir Patrick Spens

The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine:
"O whar will I get guid sailor,

To sail this schip of mine?"