What would it have cost me, save a moment's trouble, so to have drugged that balm, as should have made your arm rot to the shoulder joint, and your life blood curdle in your veins to a corrupted jelly?
What is there that prevented me to use means yet more subtle, and to taint your room with essences, before which the light of life twinkles more and more dimly, till it expires, like a torch amidst the foul vapours of some subterranean dungeon?
You little estimate my power, if you know not that these and yet deeper modes of destruction stand at command of my art.

But a physician slays not the patient by whose generosity he lives, and far less will he the breath of whose nostrils is the hope of revenge destroy the vowed ally who is to favour his pursuit of it.

Yet one word; should a necessity occur for rousing yourself--for who in Scotland can promise himself eight hours' uninterrupted repose ?--then smell at the strong essence contained in this pouncet box.

And now, farewell, sir knight; and if you cannot think of me as a man of nice conscience, acknowledge me at least as one of reason and of judgment." So saying, the mediciner left the room, his usual mean and shuffling gait elevating itself into something more noble, as conscious of a victory over his imperious patient.
Sir John Ramorny remained sunk in unpleasing reflections until he began to experience the incipient effects of his soporific draught.

He then roused himself for an instant, and summoned his page.
"Eviot! what ho! Eviot! I have done ill to unbosom myself so far to this poisonous quacksalver.