Second part of the tale of the canon's yeoman

This is going to be a story of another canon who was a hundred times more skilled in trickery than my master. He was so treacherously clever that he could poison a whole town though it were as great as Rome or Alexandria. He usually made a fool of anyone who did business with him, because his sly words soon talked the person over. A man engaged with him in conversation Soon finds his brain is dizzy with rotation, Unless the man's a devil like himself.

Many a man had this canon deceived and yet men walked and rode many miles to seek him and to make his acquaintance.

Meanwhile there was a priest in London who had lived there for many years by singing for the dead, and who was so pleasant and helpful to the house-wife where he boarded that she would not allow him to pay anything for board and clothing. So pleasant was he in his manner and so able. The lady in whose house he sat at table, Refused to take a farthing's worth of pay For board and clothes, whatever his display,

I now will tell you about this scoundrel, the canon, who gave the priest good cause to weep and wail.

One day the false canon entered the room where the priest slept, begging him to lend a certain amount of gold (a mark) which he promised to pay back in three days. And so he did. He really brought the money back and the foolish priest thought him a very honorable man.

This treacherous canon, then, came in one day. Entered the priesfs apartment where he lay And begged him to advance a certain sum. Which was to be repaid him. saying, "Come, Lend me a mark, it's only for three days, I'll pay you on the nail,¹ I'm one who pays. And if 1 fail you when you come to check, Another time just hang me by the necks.

This priest produced the money on the spot; The canon after thanking him a lot. Took leave of him and went upon his way And brought his money back the proper day. When it had been paid back and matters righted. The foolish priest of course was quite delighted, And said, 'Trust me, I never take offence. If someone comes to borrow a few pence, A Or anything I have in my possession. When hes an honest man of good profession And doesn't break his day if he should owe.

To such a man I never can say no.

"What?" said the canon. "I not pay when due? That would be something altogether new My honors is a thing I hope to keep For ever, till the moment when I creep Into my grave. God send I do indeed"

The canon, who pretended to be very grateful to the priest, said he wished to do him a good turn. He said he knew me secret of the philosopher's stone and he would teach him a science that worked miracles.

And while he priest was mopping up his face. The canon took his coal – the damned disgrace! – And stuck it in the middle somewhat higher Than was the crucible, and blew the fire Till up it flamed and all the coals were red. "And now let's have a drink," the canon said;

"All will be well quite soon, I'll undertake. Sit down, let's cheer ourselves for goodness sake."

When the canon's beechwood coal had burnt, all the filings fell down into the crucible, which was only natural. And then the canon you Qgye no mould, go out and get us a chalk-stone. I'll make it into the shape of a mould. And also bring with you a dish of water and then you will see how well our business prosper. Wait, I will go with you. I will never be a moment out of sight, and you won't have any suspicion of me.

They went out, then shut the door of the room taking the key with. On their return the canon took the chalk-stone and shaped it the form of a mould. Now notice the accursed trick. He took from his own sleeve a rod of silver which weighed only an ounce and shaped a mould from the breadth and length of it, so that it should fit in the chalk-stone mould. Then he hid it again in his sleeve. All this the priest did not see. Next, the canon picked up his materials from the fire merrily, poured them into the mould and threw the mould into the dish of water to cool. Then he called out to the priest to put his hand into the water and see what there was there. The priest put in his hand and picked up the rod of fine silver, "Look what we've got, put in your hand and grope

And you will find some silver there, I hope

What else could have been the stuff?

Silver filings are silver right enough.

Thrilled to the veins to see this silver rod

The priest said: "Bless you and the Mother of God

And all his saints preserve you, worthy master?"

He cried: "And may they bring me to disaster

Unless you will vouchsafe your kind compliance

In teaching me this noble art and science."

"Well," said me canon, "let me try again;

"We'll have a second shot; pay careful heed

And you'll become an expert."

The canon was fully prepared to deceive the priest a second time but instead of a beech coal he used a hollow stick with silver filing in it, with which he stirred the mixture.

And when this priest had been deceived again

And taken it all for gospel, right as rain,

He was so happy that I can't express ;

In words his ecstasy of happiness,

When they tried a third test with copper, the canon managed to drop his own silver rod out of his sleeve into the cooling pan. Since it fitted into the same mould, the priest believed that the copper had turned into silver. He was so glad to have learned the art, that he asked the canon to sell him the powder and the formula of the process. The canon agreed to sell it for forty pounds. As soon as he got the money he left the town and was never seen again.

1 hardly need explain

That when he tried experiments, the priest

Had no success whatever, not the least;

The powder would not work, it was a mock,

He had been tricked and made a laughing-stock.

So I conclude: since God will not allow

Philosophers to tell their pupils how

To find this stone, no doubt it's better so,

And my advice would be to let it go.