The youngest, which that wentë to the town, Full oft in heart he rolled up and down The beauty of these florins new and bright. “O Lord!” quoth he, “if so were that I might Have all this treasure to myself alone, There is no man that lives under the throne Of God, that shouldë have so merry as I.” And at the last the fiend our enemy Put in his thought, that he should poison buy, With which he mightë slay his fellows twy. 3641 For why, the fiend found him in such livíng, 3642 That he had leave to sorrow him to bring. For this was utterly his full intent To slay them both, and never to repent. And forth he went, no longer would he tarry, Into the town to an apothecáry, And prayed him that he him wouldë sell Some poison, that he might his rattës quell, 3643 And eke there was a polecat in his haw, 3644 That, as he said, his capons had y-slaw: