“I exorcise thee, accursed and most filthy dragon, basilisk, evil serpent, by the Word of truth, by almighty God, by the spotless Lamb begotten of the Highest, conceived of the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, whose coming Gabriel announced, whom when John saw he cried aloud This is the Son of the living God, that thou may’st have no power over this bread or cheese, but that he who committed this theft may eat in trembling and vomit forth by Thy command, Holy Father and Lord, almighty and eternal God.... May he who has stolen these things or is an accomplice in this, may his throat and his tongue and his jaws be narrowed and constricted so that he cannot chew this bread or cheese, by the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, by the tremendous Day of Judgment, by the four Evangels, by the twelve Apostles, by the four and twenty elders who daily praise and worship Thee, by that Redeemer who deigned for our sins to stretch his hands upon the cross, that he who stole these things cannot chew this bread or cheese save with a swelled mouth and froth and tears, by the aid of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom is honor and glory forever and forever.”[1082] Yet Boccaccio’s story of Calendrino, which turns upon the mixing of aloes with the bread administered in the _corsnæd_, perhaps affords a more rationalistic explanation of the expected miracle.[1083] A striking illustration of the superstitions connected with this usage is found in the story related by most of the English chroniclers concerning the death of Godwin, Duke of Kent, father of King Harold, and in his day the king-maker of England. As he was dining with his royal son-in-law, Edward the Confessor, some trivial circumstance caused the king to repeat an old accusation that his brother Alfred had met his death at Godwin’s hands. The old but fiery duke, seizing a piece of bread, exclaimed: “May God cause this morsel to choke me if I am guilty in thought or in deed of this crime!” Then the king took the bread and blessed it, and Godwin, putting it in his mouth, was suffocated by it, and fell dead.[1084] A poetical life of Edward the Confessor, written in the thirteenth century, gives a graphic picture of the death of the duke and the vengeful triumph of the king:— “L’aleine e parole pert Par le morsel ki ferm s’ahert. Morz est li senglant felun; Mut out force la benaicun, Ke duna a mors vertu, Par unc la mort provée fu. ‘Atant’ se escrie li rois, ‘Treiez hors ceu chen punois.’”[1085]