{"id":819,"date":"2019-03-30T17:17:56","date_gmt":"2019-03-30T17:17:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/epcc-britlit1\/?post_type=chapter&p=819"},"modified":"2019-07-22T15:22:57","modified_gmt":"2019-07-22T15:22:57","slug":"the-pardoners-prologue-and-tale","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/epcc-britlit1\/chapter\/the-pardoners-prologue-and-tale\/","title":{"raw":"The Pardoner's Prologue and Tale","rendered":"The Pardoner’s Prologue and Tale"},"content":{"raw":"
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\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE<\/span>\r\n
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\r\n\r\nOUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood;\r\n\"Harow!\" quoth he, \"by nailes and by blood,\r\nThis was a cursed thief, a false justice.\r\nAs shameful death as hearte can devise\r\nCome to these judges and their advoca's.\r\nAlgate this sely maid is slain, alas!\r\nAlas! too deare bought she her beauty.\r\nWherefore I say, that all day man may see\r\nThat giftes of fortune and of nature\r\nBe cause of death to many a creature.\r\nHer beauty was her death, I dare well sayn;\r\nAlas! so piteously as she was slain.\r\n[Of bothe giftes, that I speak of now\r\nMen have full often more harm than prow,]\r\nBut truely, mine owen master dear,\r\nThis was a piteous tale for to hear;\r\nBut natheless, pass over; 'tis no force.\r\nI pray to God to save thy gentle corse,\r\nAnd eke thine urinals, and thy jordans,\r\nThine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens,\r\nAnd every boist full of thy lectuary,\r\nGod bless them, and our lady Sainte Mary.\r\nSo may I the', thou art a proper man,\r\nAnd like a prelate, by Saint Ronian;\r\nSaid I not well? Can I not speak in term?\r\nBut well I wot thou dost mine heart to erme,\r\nThat I have almost caught a cardiacle:\r\nBy corpus Domini, but I have triacle,\r\nOr else a draught of moist and corny ale,\r\nOr but I hear anon a merry tale,\r\nMine heart is brost for pity of this maid.\r\nThou bel ami, thou Pardoner,\" he said,\r\n\"Tell us some mirth of japes right anon.\"\r\n\"It shall be done,\" quoth he, \"by Saint Ronion.\r\nBut first,\" quoth he, \"here at this ale-stake\r\nI will both drink, and biten on a cake.\"\r\nBut right anon the gentles gan to cry,\r\n\"Nay, let him tell us of no ribaldry.\r\nTell us some moral thing, that we may lear\r\nSome wit, and thenne will we gladly hear.\"\r\n\"I grant y-wis,\" quoth he; \"but I must think\r\nUpon some honest thing while that I drink.\"\r\n

THE TALE<\/span><\/h2>\r\nLordings (quoth he), in churche when I preach,\r\nI paine me to have an hautein speech,\r\nAnd ring it out, as round as doth a bell,\r\nFor I know all by rote that I tell.\r\nMy theme is always one, and ever was;\r\nRadix malorum est cupiditas.\r\nFirst I pronounce whence that I come,\r\nAnd then my bulles shew I all and some;\r\nOur liege lorde's seal on my patent,\r\nThat shew I first, my body to warrent,\r\nThat no man be so hardy, priest nor clerk,\r\nMe to disturb of Christe's holy werk.\r\nAnd after that then tell I forth my tales.\r\nBulles of popes, and of cardinales,\r\nOf patriarchs, and of bishops I shew,\r\nAnd in Latin I speak a wordes few,\r\nTo savour with my predication,\r\nAnd for to stir men to devotion\r\nThen show I forth my longe crystal stones,\r\nY-crammed fall of cloutes and of bones;\r\nRelics they be, as weene they each one.\r\nThen have I in latoun a shoulder-bone\r\nWhich that was of a holy Jewe's sheep.\r\n\"Good men,\" say I, \"take of my wordes keep;\r\nIf that this bone be wash'd in any well,\r\nIf cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swell,\r\nThat any worm hath eat, or worm y-stung,\r\nTake water of that well, and wash his tongue,\r\nAnd it is whole anon; and farthermore\r\nOf pockes, and of scab, and every sore\r\nShall every sheep be whole, that of this well\r\nDrinketh a draught; take keep of that I tell.\r\n\r\n\"If that the goodman, that the beastes oweth,\r\nWill every week, ere that the cock him croweth,\r\nFasting, y-drinken of this well a draught,\r\nAs thilke holy Jew our elders taught,\r\nHis beastes and his store shall multiply.\r\nAnd, Sirs, also it healeth jealousy;\r\nFor though a man be fall'n in jealous rage,\r\nLet make with this water his pottage,\r\nAnd never shall he more his wife mistrist,\r\nThough he the sooth of her defaulte wist;\r\nAll had she taken priestes two or three.\r\nHere is a mittain eke, that ye may see;\r\nHe that his hand will put in this mittain,\r\nHe shall have multiplying of his grain,\r\nWhen he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats,\r\nSo that he offer pence, or elles groats.\r\nAnd, men and women, one thing warn I you;\r\nIf any wight be in this churche now\r\nThat hath done sin horrible, so that he\r\nDare not for shame of it y-shriven be;\r\nOr any woman, be she young or old,\r\nThat hath y-made her husband cokewold,\r\nSuch folk shall have no power nor no grace\r\nTo offer to my relics in this place.\r\nAnd whoso findeth him out of such blame,\r\nHe will come up and offer in God's name;\r\nAnd I assoil him by the authority\r\nWhich that by bull y-granted was to me.\"\r\n\r\nBy this gaud have I wonne year by year\r\nA hundred marks, since I was pardonere.\r\nI stande like a clerk in my pulpit,\r\nAnd when the lewed people down is set,\r\nI preache so as ye have heard before,\r\nAnd telle them a hundred japes more.\r\nThen pain I me to stretche forth my neck,\r\nAnd east and west upon the people I beck,\r\nAs doth a dove, sitting on a bern;\r\nMy handes and my tongue go so yern,\r\nThat it is joy to see my business.\r\nOf avarice and of such cursedness\r\nIs all my preaching, for to make them free\r\nTo give their pence, and namely unto me.\r\nFor mine intent is not but for to win,\r\nAnd nothing for correction of sin.\r\nI recke never, when that they be buried,\r\nThough that their soules go a blackburied.\r\nFor certes many a predication\r\nCometh oft-time of evil intention;\r\nSome for pleasance of folk, and flattery,\r\nTo be advanced by hypocrisy;\r\nAnd some for vainglory, and some for hate.\r\nFor, when I dare not otherwise debate,\r\nThen will I sting him with my tongue smart\r\nIn preaching, so that he shall not astart\r\nTo be defamed falsely, if that he\r\nHath trespass'd to my brethren or to me.\r\nFor, though I telle not his proper name,\r\nMen shall well knowe that it is the same\r\nBy signes, and by other circumstances.\r\nThus quite I folk that do us displeasances:\r\nThus spit I out my venom, under hue\r\nOf holiness, to seem holy and true.\r\nBut, shortly mine intent I will devise,\r\nI preach of nothing but of covetise.\r\nTherefore my theme is yet, and ever was, --\r\nRadix malorum est cupiditas.\r\nThus can I preach against the same vice\r\nWhich that I use, and that is avarice.\r\nBut though myself be guilty in that sin,\r\nYet can I maken other folk to twin\r\nFrom avarice, and sore them repent.\r\nBut that is not my principal intent;\r\nI preache nothing but for covetise.\r\nOf this mattere it ought enough suffice.\r\nThen tell I them examples many a one,\r\nOf olde stories longe time gone;\r\nFor lewed people love tales old;\r\nSuch thinges can they well report and hold.\r\nWhat? trowe ye, that whiles I may preach\r\nAnd winne gold and silver for I teach,\r\nThat I will live in povert' wilfully?\r\nNay, nay, I thought it never truely.\r\nFor I will preach and beg in sundry lands;\r\nI will not do no labour with mine hands,\r\nNor make baskets for to live thereby,\r\nBecause I will not beggen idlely.\r\nI will none of the apostles counterfeit;\r\nI will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat,\r\nAll were it given of the poorest page,\r\nOr of the pooreste widow in a village:\r\nAll should her children sterve for famine.\r\nNay, I will drink the liquor of the vine,\r\nAnd have a jolly wench in every town.\r\nBut hearken, lordings, in conclusioun;\r\nYour liking is, that I shall tell a tale\r\nNow I have drunk a draught of corny ale,\r\nBy God, I hope I shall you tell a thing\r\nThat shall by reason be to your liking;\r\nFor though myself be a full vicious man,\r\nA moral tale yet I you telle can,\r\nWhich I am wont to preache, for to win.\r\nNow hold your peace, my tale I will begin.\r\n\r\nIn Flanders whilom was a company\r\nOf younge folkes, that haunted folly,\r\nAs riot, hazard, stewes, and taverns;\r\nWhere as with lutes, harpes, and giterns,\r\nThey dance and play at dice both day and night,\r\nAnd eat also, and drink over their might;\r\nThrough which they do the devil sacrifice\r\nWithin the devil's temple, in cursed wise,\r\nBy superfluity abominable.\r\nTheir oathes be so great and so damnable,\r\nThat it is grisly for to hear them swear.\r\nOur blissful Lorde's body they to-tear;\r\nThem thought the Jewes rent him not enough,\r\nAnd each of them at other's sinne lough.\r\nAnd right anon in come tombesteres\r\nFetis and small, and younge fruitesteres.\r\nSingers with harpes, baudes, waferers,\r\nWhich be the very devil's officers,\r\nTo kindle and blow the fire of lechery,\r\nThat is annexed unto gluttony.\r\nThe Holy Writ take I to my witness,\r\nThat luxury is in wine and drunkenness.\r\nLo, how that drunken Lot unkindely\r\nLay by his daughters two unwittingly,\r\nSo drunk he was he knew not what he wrought.\r\nHerodes, who so well the stories sought,\r\nWhen he of wine replete was at his feast,\r\nRight at his owen table gave his hest\r\nTo slay the Baptist John full guilteless.\r\nSeneca saith a good word, doubteless:\r\nHe saith he can no difference find\r\nBetwixt a man that is out of his mind,\r\nAnd a man whiche that is drunkelew:\r\nBut that woodness, y-fallen in a shrew,\r\nPersevereth longer than drunkenness.\r\n\r\nO gluttony, full of all cursedness;\r\nO cause first of our confusion,\r\nOriginal of our damnation,\r\nTill Christ had bought us with his blood again!\r\nLooke, how deare, shortly for to sayn,\r\nAbought was first this cursed villainy:\r\nCorrupt was all this world for gluttony.\r\nAdam our father, and his wife also,\r\nFrom Paradise, to labour and to woe,\r\nWere driven for that vice, it is no dread.\r\nFor while that Adam fasted, as I read,\r\nHe was in Paradise; and when that he\r\nAte of the fruit defended of the tree,\r\nAnon he was cast out to woe and pain.\r\nO gluttony! well ought us on thee plain.\r\nOh! wist a man how many maladies\r\nFollow of excess and of gluttonies,\r\nHe woulde be the more measurable\r\nOf his diete, sitting at his table.\r\nAlas! the shorte throat, the tender mouth,\r\nMaketh that east and west, and north and south,\r\nIn earth, in air, in water, men do swink\r\nTo get a glutton dainty meat and drink.\r\nOf this mattere, O Paul! well canst thou treat\r\nMeat unto womb, and womb eke unto meat,\r\nShall God destroye both, as Paulus saith.\r\nAlas! a foul thing is it, by my faith,\r\nTo say this word, and fouler is the deed,\r\nWhen man so drinketh of the white and red,\r\nThat of his throat he maketh his privy\r\nThrough thilke cursed superfluity\r\nThe apostle saith, weeping full piteously,\r\nThere walk many, of which you told have I, --\r\nI say it now weeping with piteous voice, --\r\nThat they be enemies of Christe's crois;\r\nOf which the end is death; womb is their God.\r\nO womb, O belly, stinking is thy cod,\r\nFull fill'd of dung and of corruptioun;\r\nAt either end of thee foul is the soun.\r\nHow great labour and cost is thee to find!\r\nThese cookes how they stamp, and strain, and grind,\r\nAnd turne substance into accident,\r\nTo fulfill all thy likerous talent!\r\nOut of the harde bones knocke they\r\nThe marrow, for they caste naught away\r\nThat may go through the gullet soft and swoot\r\nOf spicery and leaves, of bark and root,\r\nShall be his sauce y-maked by delight,\r\nTo make him have a newer appetite.\r\nBut, certes, he that haunteth such delices\r\nIs dead while that he liveth in those vices.\r\n\r\nA lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness\r\nIs full of striving and of wretchedness.\r\nO drunken man! disfgur'd is thy face,\r\nSour is thy breath, foul art thou to embrace:\r\nAnd through thy drunken nose sowneth the soun',\r\nAs though thous saidest aye, Samsoun! Samsoun!\r\nAnd yet, God wot, Samson drank never wine.\r\nThou fallest as it were a sticked swine;\r\nThy tongue is lost, and all thine honest cure;\r\nFor drunkenness is very sepulture\r\nOf manne's wit and his discretion.\r\nIn whom that drink hath domination,\r\nHe can no counsel keep, it is no dread.\r\nNow keep you from the white and from the red,\r\nAnd namely from the white wine of Lepe,\r\nThat is to sell in Fish Street and in Cheap.\r\nThis wine of Spaine creepeth subtilly --\r\nIn other wines growing faste by,\r\nOf which there riseth such fumosity,\r\nThat when a man hath drunken draughtes three,\r\nAnd weeneth that he be at home in Cheap,\r\nHe is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe,\r\nNot at the Rochelle, nor at Bourdeaux town;\r\nAnd thenne will he say, Samsoun! Samsoun!\r\nBut hearken, lordings, one word, I you pray,\r\nThat all the sovreign actes, dare I say,\r\nOf victories in the Old Testament,\r\nThrough very God that is omnipotent,\r\nWere done in abstinence and in prayere:\r\nLook in the Bible, and there ye may it lear.\r\nLook, Attila, the greate conqueror,\r\nDied in his sleep, with shame and dishonour,\r\nBleeding aye at his nose in drunkenness:\r\nA captain should aye live in soberness\r\nAnd o'er all this, advise you right well\r\nWhat was commanded unto Lemuel;\r\nNot Samuel, but Lemuel, say I.\r\nReade the Bible, and find it expressly\r\nOf wine giving to them that have justice.\r\nNo more of this, for it may well suffice.\r\n\r\nAnd, now that I have spoke of gluttony,\r\nNow will I you defende hazardry.\r\nHazard is very mother of leasings,\r\nAnd of deceit, and cursed forswearings:\r\nBlasphem' of Christ, manslaughter, and waste also\r\nOf chattel and of time; and furthermo'\r\nIt is repreve, and contrar' of honour,\r\nFor to be held a common hazardour.\r\nAnd ever the higher he is of estate,\r\nThe more he is holden desolate.\r\nIf that a prince use hazardry,\r\nIn alle governance and policy\r\nHe is, as by common opinion,\r\nY-hold the less in reputation.\r\n\r\nChilon, that was a wise ambassador,\r\nWas sent to Corinth with full great honor\r\nFrom Lacedemon, to make alliance;\r\nAnd when he came, it happen'd him, by chance,\r\nThat all the greatest that were of that land,\r\nY-playing atte hazard he them fand.\r\nFor which, as soon as that it mighte be,\r\nHe stole him home again to his country\r\nAnd saide there, \"I will not lose my name,\r\nNor will I take on me so great diffame,\r\nYou to ally unto no hazardors.\r\nSende some other wise ambassadors,\r\nFor, by my troth, me were lever die,\r\nThan I should you to hazardors ally.\r\nFor ye, that be so glorious in honours,\r\nShall not ally you to no hazardours,\r\nAs by my will, nor as by my treaty.\"\r\nThis wise philosopher thus said he.\r\nLook eke how to the King Demetrius\r\nThe King of Parthes, as the book saith us,\r\nSent him a pair of dice of gold in scorn,\r\nFor he had used hazard therebeforn:\r\nFor which he held his glory and renown\r\nAt no value or reputatioun.\r\nLordes may finden other manner play\r\nHonest enough to drive the day away.\r\n\r\nNow will I speak of oathes false and great\r\nA word or two, as olde bookes treat.\r\nGreat swearing is a thing abominable,\r\nAnd false swearing is more reprovable.\r\nThe highe God forbade swearing at all;\r\nWitness on Matthew: but in special\r\nOf swearing saith the holy Jeremie,\r\nThou thalt swear sooth thine oathes, and not lie:\r\nAnd swear in doom and eke in righteousness;\r\nBut idle swearing is a cursedness.\r\nBehold and see, there in the firste table\r\nOf highe Godde's hestes honourable,\r\nHow that the second best of him is this,\r\nTake not my name in idle or amiss.\r\nLo, rather he forbiddeth such swearing,\r\nThan homicide, or many a cursed thing;\r\nI say that as by order thus it standeth;\r\nThis knoweth he that his hests understandeth,\r\nHow that the second hest of God is that.\r\nAnd farthermore, I will thee tell all plat,\r\nThat vengeance shall not parte from his house,\r\nThat of his oathes is outrageous.\r\n\"By Godde's precious heart, and by his nails,\r\nAnd by the blood of Christ, that is in Hailes,\r\nSeven is my chance, and thine is cinque and trey:\r\nBy Godde's armes, if thou falsely play,\r\nThis dagger shall throughout thine hearte go.\"\r\nThis fruit comes of the bicched bones two,\r\nForswearing, ire, falseness, and homicide.\r\nNow, for the love of Christ that for us died,\r\nLeave your oathes, bothe great and smale.\r\nBut, Sirs, now will I ell you forth my tale.\r\n\r\nThese riotoures three, of which I tell,\r\nLong erst than prime rang of any bell,\r\nWere set them in a tavern for to drink;\r\nAnd as they sat, they heard a belle clink\r\nBefore a corpse, was carried to the grave.\r\nThat one of them gan calle to his knave,\r\n\"Go bet,\" quoth he, \"and aske readily\r\nWhat corpse is this, that passeth here forth by;\r\nAnd look that thou report his name well.\"\r\n\"Sir,\" quoth the boy, \"it needeth never a deal;\r\nIt was me told ere ye came here two hours;\r\nHe was, pardie, an old fellow of yours,\r\nAnd suddenly he was y-slain to-night;\r\nFordrunk as he sat on his bench upright,\r\nThere came a privy thief, men clepe Death,\r\nThat in this country all the people slay'th,\r\nAnd with his spear he smote his heart in two,\r\nAnd went his way withoute wordes mo'.\r\nHe hath a thousand slain this pestilence;\r\nAnd, master, ere you come in his presence,\r\nMe thinketh that it were full necessary\r\nFor to beware of such an adversary;\r\nBe ready for to meet him evermore.\r\nThus taughte me my dame; I say no more.\"\r\n\"By Sainte Mary,\" said the tavernere,\r\n\"The child saith sooth, for he hath slain this year,\r\nHence ov'r a mile, within a great village,\r\nBoth man and woman, child, and hind, and page;\r\nI trow his habitation be there;\r\nTo be advised great wisdom it were,\r\nEre that he did a man a dishonour.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yea, Godde's armes,\" quoth this riotour,\r\n\"Is it such peril with him for to meet?\r\nI shall him seek, by stile and eke by street.\r\nI make a vow, by Godde's digne bones.\"\r\nHearken, fellows, we three be alle ones:\r\nLet each of us hold up his hand to other,\r\nAnd each of us become the other's brother,\r\nAnd we will slay this false traitor Death;\r\nHe shall be slain, he that so many slay'th,\r\nBy Godde's dignity, ere it be night.\"\r\nTogether have these three their trothe plight\r\nTo live and die each one of them for other\r\nAs though he were his owen sworen brother.\r\nAnd up they start, all drunken, in this rage,\r\nAnd forth they go towardes that village\r\nOf which the taverner had spoke beforn,\r\nAnd many a grisly oathe have they sworn,\r\nAnd Christe's blessed body they to-rent;\r\n\"Death shall be dead, if that we may him hent.\"\r\nWhen they had gone not fully half a mile,\r\nRight as they would have trodden o'er a stile,\r\nAn old man and a poore with them met.\r\nThis olde man full meekely them gret,\r\nAnd saide thus; \"Now, lordes, God you see!\"\r\nThe proudest of these riotoures three\r\nAnswer'd again; \"What? churl, with sorry grace,\r\nWhy art thou all forwrapped save thy face?\r\nWhy livest thou so long in so great age?\"\r\nThis olde man gan look on his visage,\r\nAnd saide thus; \"For that I cannot find\r\nA man, though that I walked unto Ind,\r\nNeither in city, nor in no village go,\r\nThat woulde change his youthe for mine age;\r\nAnd therefore must I have mine age still\r\nAs longe time as it is Godde's will.\r\nAnd Death, alas! he will not have my life.\r\nThus walk I like a resteless caitife,\r\nAnd on the ground, which is my mother's gate,\r\nI knocke with my staff, early and late,\r\nAnd say to her, 'Leve mother, let me in.\r\nLo, how I wane, flesh, and blood, and skin;\r\nAlas! when shall my bones be at rest?\r\nMother, with you I woulde change my chest,\r\nThat in my chamber longe time hath be,\r\nYea, for an hairy clout to wrap in me.'\r\nBut yet to me she will not do that grace,\r\nFor which fall pale and welked is my face.\r\nBut, Sirs, to you it is no courtesy\r\nTo speak unto an old man villainy,\r\nBut he trespass in word or else in deed.\r\nIn Holy Writ ye may yourselves read;\r\n'Against an old man, hoar upon his head,\r\nYe should arise:' therefore I you rede,\r\nNe do unto an old man no harm now,\r\nNo more than ye would a man did you\r\nIn age, if that ye may so long abide.\r\nAnd God be with you, whether ye go or ride\r\nI must go thither as I have to go.\"\r\n\r\n\"Nay, olde churl, by God thou shalt not so,\"\r\nSaide this other hazardor anon;\r\n\"Thou partest not so lightly, by Saint John.\r\nThou spakest right now of that traitor Death,\r\nThat in this country all our friendes slay'th;\r\nHave here my troth, as thou art his espy;\r\nTell where he is, or thou shalt it abie,\r\nBy God and by the holy sacrament;\r\nFor soothly thou art one of his assent\r\nTo slay us younge folk, thou false thief.\"\r\n\"Now, Sirs,\" quoth he, \"if it be you so lief\r\nTo finde Death, turn up this crooked way,\r\nFor in that grove I left him, by my fay,\r\nUnder a tree, and there he will abide;\r\nNor for your boast he will him nothing hide.\r\nSee ye that oak? right there ye shall him find.\r\nGod save you, that bought again mankind,\r\nAnd you amend!\" Thus said this olde man;\r\nAnd evereach of these riotoures ran,\r\nTill they came to the tree, and there they found\r\nOf florins fine, of gold y-coined round,\r\nWell nigh a seven bushels, as them thought.\r\nNo longer as then after Death they sought;\r\nBut each of them so glad was of the sight,\r\nFor that the florins were so fair and bright,\r\nThat down they sat them by the precious hoard.\r\nThe youngest of them spake the firste word:\r\n\"Brethren,\" quoth he, \"take keep what I shall say;\r\nMy wit is great, though that I bourde and play\r\nThis treasure hath Fortune unto us given\r\nIn mirth and jollity our life to liven;\r\nAnd lightly as it comes, so will we spend.\r\nHey! Godde's precious dignity! who wend\r\nToday that we should have so fair a grace?\r\nBut might this gold he carried from this place\r\nHome to my house, or elles unto yours\r\n(For well I wot that all this gold is ours),\r\nThen were we in high felicity.\r\nBut truely by day it may not be;\r\nMen woulde say that we were thieves strong,\r\nAnd for our owen treasure do us hong.\r\nThis treasure muste carried be by night,\r\nAs wisely and as slily as it might.\r\nWherefore I rede, that cut among us all\r\nWe draw, and let see where the cut will fall:\r\nAnd he that hath the cut, with hearte blithe\r\nShall run unto the town, and that full swithe,\r\nAnd bring us bread and wine full privily:\r\nAnd two of us shall keepe subtilly\r\nThis treasure well: and if he will not tarry,\r\nWhen it is night, we will this treasure carry,\r\nBy one assent, where as us thinketh best.\"\r\nThen one of them the cut brought in his fist,\r\nAnd bade them draw, and look where it would fall;\r\nAnd it fell on the youngest of them all;\r\nAnd forth toward the town he went anon.\r\nAnd all so soon as that he was y-gone,\r\nThe one of them spake thus unto the other;\r\n\"Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother,\r\nThy profit will I tell thee right anon.\r\nThou knowest well that our fellow is gone,\r\nAnd here is gold, and that full great plenty,\r\nThat shall departed he among us three.\r\nBut natheless, if I could shape it so\r\nThat it departed were among us two,\r\nHad I not done a friende's turn to thee?\"\r\nTh' other answer'd, \"I n'ot how that may be;\r\nHe knows well that the gold is with us tway.\r\nWhat shall we do? what shall we to him say?\"\r\n\"Shall it be counsel?\" said the firste shrew;\r\n\"And I shall tell to thee in wordes few\r\nWhat we shall do, and bring it well about.\"\r\n\"I grante,\" quoth the other, \"out of doubt,\r\nThat by my truth I will thee not bewray.\"\r\n\"Now,\" quoth the first, \"thou know'st well we be tway,\r\nAnd two of us shall stronger be than one.\r\nLook; when that he is set, thou right anon\r\nArise, as though thou wouldest with him play;\r\nAnd I shall rive him through the sides tway,\r\nWhile that thou strugglest with him as in game;\r\nAnd with thy dagger look thou do the same.\r\nAnd then shall all this gold departed be,\r\nMy deare friend, betwixte thee and me:\r\nThen may we both our lustes all fulfil,\r\nAnd play at dice right at our owen will.\"\r\nAnd thus accorded be these shrewes tway\r\nTo slay the third, as ye have heard me say.\r\n\r\nThe youngest, which that wente to the town,\r\nFull oft in heart he rolled up and down\r\nThe beauty of these florins new and bright.\r\n\"O Lord!\" quoth he, \"if so were that I might\r\nHave all this treasure to myself alone,\r\nThere is no man that lives under the throne\r\nOf God, that shoulde have so merry as I.\"\r\nAnd at the last the fiend our enemy\r\nPut in his thought, that he should poison buy,\r\nWith which he mighte slay his fellows twy.\r\nFor why, the fiend found him in such living,\r\nThat he had leave to sorrow him to bring.\r\nFor this was utterly his full intent\r\nTo slay them both, and never to repent.\r\nAnd forth he went, no longer would he tarry,\r\nInto the town to an apothecary,\r\nAnd prayed him that he him woulde sell\r\nSome poison, that he might his rattes quell,\r\nAnd eke there was a polecat in his haw,\r\nThat, as he said, his eapons had y-slaw:\r\nAnd fain he would him wreak, if that he might,\r\nOf vermin that destroyed him by night.\r\nTh'apothecary answer'd, \"Thou shalt have\r\nA thing, as wisly God my soule save,\r\nIn all this world there is no creature\r\nThat eat or drank hath of this confecture,\r\nNot but the mountance of a corn of wheat,\r\nThat he shall not his life anon forlete;\r\nYea, sterve he shall, and that in lesse while\r\nThan thou wilt go apace nought but a mile:\r\nThis poison is so strong and violent.\"\r\nThis cursed man hath in his hand y-hent\r\nThis poison in a box, and swift he ran\r\nInto the nexte street, unto a man,\r\nAnd borrow'd of him large bottles three;\r\nAnd in the two the poison poured he;\r\nThe third he kepte clean for his own drink,\r\nFor all the night he shope him for to swink\r\nIn carrying off the gold out of that place.\r\nAnd when this riotour, with sorry grace,\r\nHad fill'd with wine his greate bottles three,\r\n\r\nTo his fellows again repaired he.\r\nWhat needeth it thereof to sermon more?\r\nFor, right as they had cast his death before,\r\nRight so they have him slain, and that anon.\r\nAnd when that this was done, thus spake the one;\r\n\"Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry,\r\nAnd afterward we will his body bury.\"\r\nAnd with that word it happen'd him par cas\r\nTo take the bottle where the poison was,\r\nAnd drank, and gave his fellow drink also,\r\nFor which anon they sterved both the two.\r\nBut certes I suppose that Avicen\r\nWrote never in no canon, nor no fen,\r\nMore wondrous signes of empoisoning,\r\nThan had these wretches two ere their ending.\r\nThus ended be these homicides two,\r\nAnd eke the false empoisoner also.\r\n\r\nO cursed sin, full of all cursedness!\r\nO trait'rous homicide! O wickedness!\r\nO glutt'ny, luxury, and hazardry!\r\nThou blasphemer of Christ with villany,\r\nAnd oathes great, of usage and of pride!\r\nAlas! mankinde, how may it betide,\r\nThat to thy Creator, which that thee wrought,\r\nAnd with his precious hearte-blood thee bought,\r\nThou art so false and so unkind, alas!\r\nNow, good men, God forgive you your trespass,\r\nAnd ware you from the sin of avarice.\r\nMine holy pardon may you all warice,\r\nSo that ye offer nobles or sterlings,\r\nOr elles silver brooches, spoons, or rings.\r\nBowe your head under this holy bull.\r\nCome up, ye wives, and offer of your will;\r\nYour names I enter in my roll anon;\r\nInto the bliss of heaven shall ye gon;\r\nI you assoil by mine high powere,\r\nYou that will offer, as clean and eke as clear\r\nAs ye were born. Lo, Sires, thus I preach;\r\nAnd Jesus Christ, that is our soules' leech,\r\nSo grante you his pardon to receive;\r\nFor that is best, I will not deceive.\r\n\r\nBut, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale;\r\nI have relics and pardon in my mail,\r\nAs fair as any man in Engleland,\r\nWhich were me given by the Pope's hand.\r\nIf any of you will of devotion\r\nOffer, and have mine absolution,\r\nCome forth anon, and kneele here adown\r\nAnd meekely receive my pardoun.\r\nOr elles take pardon, as ye wend,\r\nAll new and fresh at every towne's end,\r\nSo that ye offer, always new and new,\r\nNobles or pence which that be good and true.\r\n'Tis an honour to evereach that is here,\r\nThat ye have a suffisant pardonere\r\nT'assoile you in country as ye ride,\r\nFor aventures which that may betide.\r\nParaventure there may fall one or two\r\nDown of his horse, and break his neck in two.\r\nLook, what a surety is it to you all,\r\nThat I am in your fellowship y-fall,\r\nThat may assoil you bothe more and lass,\r\nWhen that the soul shall from the body pass.\r\nI rede that our Hoste shall begin,\r\nFor he is most enveloped in sin.\r\nCome forth, Sir Host, and offer first anon,\r\nAnd thou shalt kiss; the relics every one,\r\nYea, for a groat; unbuckle anon thy purse.\r\n\r\n\"Nay, nay,\" quoth he, \"then have I Christe's curse!\r\nLet be,\" quoth he, \"it shall not be, so the'ch.\r\nThou wouldest make me kiss thine olde breech,\r\nAnd swear it were a relic of a saint,\r\nThough it were with thy fundament depaint'.\r\nBut, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,\r\nI would I had thy coilons in mine hand,\r\nInstead of relics, or of sanctuary.\r\nLet cut them off, I will thee help them carry;\r\nThey shall be shrined in a hogge's turd.\"\r\nThe Pardoner answered not one word;\r\nSo wroth he was, no worde would he say.\r\n\r\n\"Now,\" quoth our Host, \"I will no longer play\r\nWith thee, nor with none other angry man.\"\r\nBut right anon the worthy Knight began\r\n(When that he saw that all the people lough),\r\n\"No more of this, for it is right enough.\r\nSir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer;\r\nAnd ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear,\r\nI pray you that ye kiss the Pardoner;\r\nAnd, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,\r\nAnd as we didde, let us laugh and play.\"\r\nAnon they kiss'd, and rode forth their way.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n
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