Or aim’d maliciously,—tho’ Fame says not—
Certain his soul (the Knight so crack’d his crown)
Fled from his body; but which way it went,
Or whether Friars’ souls fly up, or down,
Remains a matter of nice argument.
Points so abstruse I dare not dwell upon;
Enough, for me, his body is not gone;
For I have business, still, in my narration,
With the fat carcass of this holy porpus;
And Death, tho’ sharp in his Administration,