| Now sire," quod she, "whan ye flee fro the bemes, |
| For Goddes love, as taak som laxatyf. |
| Up peril of my soule, and of my lyf, |
| I conseille yow the beste, I wol nat lye, |
| 180 | That bothe of colere and of malencolye |
| Ye purge yow; and for ye shal nat tarie, |
| Though in this toun is noon apothecarie, |
| I shal myself to herbes techen yow, |
| That shul been for youre hele and for youre prow. |
| 185 | And in oure yeerd tho herbes shal I fynde, |
| The whiche han of hir propretee by kynde |
| To purge yow bynethe and eek above. |
| Foryet nat this, for Goddes owene love! |
| Ye been ful coleryk of compleccioun; |
| 190 | Ware the sonne in his ascencioun |
| Ne fynde yow nat repleet of humours hoote. |
| And if it do, I dar wel leye a grote |
| That ye shul have a fevere terciane, |
| Or an agu that may be youre bane. |
| 195 | A day or two ye shul have digestyves |
| Of wormes, er ye take youre laxatyves |
| Of lawriol, centaure, and fumetere, |
| Or elles of ellebor that groweth there, |
| Of katapuce, or of gaitrys beryis, |
| 200 | Of herbe yve, growyng in oure yeerd, ther mery is; |
| Pekke hem up right as they growe, and ete hem yn! |
| Be myrie, housbonde, for youre fader kyn, |
| Dredeth no dreem, I kan sey yow namoore!" |
|
|
Now, sir," said she, "when we fly from the beams, |
| For God's love go and take some laxative; |
| On peril of my soul, and as I live, |
| I counsel you the best, I will not lie, |
| 180 | That both for choler and for melancholy |
| You purge yourself; and since you shouldn't tarry, |
| And in this town there's no apothecary, |
| I will myself go find some herbs for you |
| That will be good for health and pecker too; |
| 185 | And in our own yard all these herbs I'll find, |
| The which have properties of proper kind |
| To purge you underneath and up above. |
| Forget this not, now, for God's very love! |
| You are so very choleric of complexion. |
| 190 | Beware the mounting sun and all dejection, |
| Nor get yourself with sudden humours hot; |
| For if you do, I dare well lay a groat |
| That you shall have the tertian fever's pain, |
| Or some ague that may well be your bane. |
| 195 | A day or two you shall have digestives |
| Of worms before you take your laxatives |
| Of laurel, centuary, and fumitory, |
| Or else of hellebore purificatory, |
| Or caper spurge, or else of dogwood berry, |
| 200 | Or herb ivy, all in our yard so merry; |
| Peck them just as they grow and gulp them in. |
| Be merry, husband, for your father's kin! |
| Dread no more dreams. And I can say no more." |
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