Meanwhile the youngest rioter, as he went up to the town, revolved in his
heart the beauty of the bright new florins, and said unto himself: "If
only I could have all this gold to myself alone, there is no man on earth
who would live so merrily as I." And at last the Devil put it into his
relentless heart to buy poison, in order with it to kill his two
companions. And straightway he went on into the town to an apothecary,
and besought him to sell him some poison for destroying some rats which
infested his house and a polecat which, he said, had made away with his
capons. And the apothecary said: "Thou shalt have something of which (so
may God save my soul!) no creature in all the world could swallow a single
grain without losing his life thereby--and that in less time than thou
wouldest take to walk a mile in." So the miscreant shut up this poison in
a box, and then he went into the next street and borrowed three large
bottles, into two of which he poured his poison, while the third he kept
clean to hold drink for himself; for he meant to work hard all the night
to carry away the gold. So he filled his three bottles with wine, and
then went back to his companions under the tree.

What need to make a long discourse of what followed? As they had plotted
their comrade's death, so they slew him, and that at once. And when they
had done this, the one who had counselled the deed said, "Now let us sit
and drink and make merry, and then we will bury his body." And it
happened to him by chance to take one of the bottles which contained the
poison; and he drank, and gave drink of it to his fellow; and thus they
both speedily died.

The plot of this story is, as observed, not Chaucer's. But how carefully,
how artistically the narrative is elaborated, incident by incident, and
point by point! How well every effort is prepared, and how well every
turn of the story is explained! Nothing is superfluous, but everything is