For certes ther was nevere keie

And thus soffre I the hote chele,

Which passeth othre peines fele;

In cold I brenne and frese in hete:

And thanne I drinke a biter swete 250

With dreie lippe and yhen wete.

And take a drauhte of such reles,

Is, as who seith, withoute wit;