The Prologue

Our Hostë gan to swear as he were wood;3479
“Harow!” quoth he, “by nailës and by blood,3480
This was a cursed thief, a false justíce.
As shameful death as heartë can devise
Come to these judges and their advoca’s.3481
Algate3482 this sely3483 maid is slain, alas!
Alas! too dearë bought3484 she her beautý.
Wherefore I say, that all day man may see
That giftës of fortúne and of natúre
Be cause of death to many a creatúre.
Her beauty was her death, I dare well sayn;
Alas! so piteously as she was slain.
[Of bothë giftës, that I speak of now,
Men have full often morë harm than prow.3485]
But truëly, mine owen master dear,
This was a piteous talë for to hear;
But natheless, pass over; ’tis no force.3486
I pray to God to save thy gentle corse,3487
And eke thine urinals, and thy jordans,
Thine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens,3488
And every boist3489 full of thy lectuary,
God bless them, and our lady Saintë Mary.
So may I thé,3490 thou art a proper man,
And like a prelate, by Saint Ronian;
Said I not well? Can I not speak in term?3491
But well I wot thou dost3492 mine heart to erme,3493
That I have almost caught a cardiácle:3494
By corpus Domini, but3495 I have triácle,3496
Or else a draught of moist and corny3497 ale,
Or but3498 I hear anon a merry tale,
Mine heart is brost3499 for pity of this maid.
Thou bel ami, thou Pardoner,” he said,
“Tell us some mirth of japës3500 right anon.”
“It shall be done,” quoth he, “by Saint Ronion.
But first,” quoth he, “here at this alëstake3501
I will both drink, and biten on a cake.”
But right anon the gentles gan to cry,
“Nay, let him tell us of no ribaldry.
Tell us some moral thing, that we may lear3502
Some wit,3503 and thennë will we gladly hear.”
“I grant y-wis,”3504 quoth he; “but I must think
Upon some honest thing while that I drink.”

The Tale3505

Lordings (quoth he), in churchë when I preach,
I painë me3506 to have an hautein3507 speech,
And ring it out, as round as doth a bell,
For I know all by rotë that I tell.
My theme is always one, and ever was;
Radix malorum est cupiditas.3508
First I pronouncë whencë that I come,
And then my bullës shew I all and some;
Our liegë lordë’s seal on my patént,
That shew I first, my body to warrent,3509
That no man be so hardy, priest nor clerk,
Me to disturb of Christë’s holy werk.
And after that then tell I forth my tales.
Bullës of popës, and of cardinales,
Of patriarchs, and of bishóps I shew,
And in Latín I speak a wordës few,
To savour with my predicatión,
And for to stir men to devotión
Then show I forth my longë crystal stones,
Y-crammed fall of cloutës3510 and of bones;
Relics they be, as weenë they3511 each one.
Then have I in latoun3512 a shoulder-bone
Which that was of a holy Jewë’s sheep.
“Good men,” say I, “take of my wordës keep;3513
If that this bone be wash’d in any well,
If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxë swell,
That any worm hath eat, or worm y-stung,
Take water of that well, and wash his tongue,
And it is whole anon; and farthermore
Of pockës, and of scab, and every sore
Shall every sheep be whole, that of this well
Drinketh a draught; take keep3514 of that I tell.

“If that the goodman, that the beastës oweth,3515
Will every week, ere that the cock him croweth,
Fasting, y-drinken of this well a draught,
As thilkë holy Jew our elders taught,
His beastës and his store shall multiply.
And, Sirs, also it healeth jealousy;
For though a man be fall’n in jealous rage,
Let make with this water his pottáge,
And never shall he more his wife mistrist,3516
Though he the sooth of her defaultë wist;
All3517 had she taken priestës two or three.
Here is a mittain3518 eke, that ye may see;
He that his hand will put in this mittáin,
He shall have multiplying of his grain,
When he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats,
So that he offer pence, or ellës groats.
And, men and women, one thing warn I you;
If any wight be in this churchë now
That hath done sin horríble, so that he
Dare not for shame of it y-shriven3519 be;
Or any woman, be she young or old,
That hath y-made her husband cokëwold,3520
Such folk shall have no power nor no grace
To offer to my relics in this place.
And whoso findeth him out of such blame,
He will come up and offer in God’s name;
And I assoil him by the authority
Which that by bull y-granted was to me.”

By this gaud3521 have I wonnë year by year
A hundred marks, since I was pardonére.
I standë like a clerk in my pulpit,
And when the lewëd3522 people down is set,
I preachë so as ye have heard before,
And tellë them a hundred japës3523 more.
Then pain I me to stretchë forth my neck,
And east and west upon the people I beck,
As doth a dovë, sitting on a bern;3524
My handës and my tonguë go so yern,3525
That it is joy to see my business.
Of avarice and of such cursedness3526
Is all my preaching, for to make them free
To give their pence, and namely3527 unto me.
For mine intent is not but for to win,
And nothing for correctión of sin.
I reckë never, when that they be buried,
Though that their soulës go a blackburied.3528
For certes many a predicatión
Cometh oft-time of evil intentión;3529
Some for pleasánce of folk, and flattery,
To be advanced by hypocrisy;
And some for vainglory, and some for hate.
For, when I dare not otherwise debate,
Then will I sting him with my tonguë smart3530
In preaching, so that he shall not astart3531
To be defamed falsely, if that he
Hath trespass’d3532 to my brethren or to me.
For, though I tellë not his proper name,
Men shall well knowë that it is the same
By signës, and by other circumstánces.
Thus quite I3533 folk that do us displeasánces:
Thus spit I out my venom, under hue
Of holiness, to seem holy and true.
But, shortly mine intent I will devise,
I preach of nothing but of covetise.
Therefore my theme is yet, and ever was⁠—
Radix malorum est cupiditas.
Thus can I preach against the samë vice
Which that I use, and that is avarice.
But though myself be guilty in that sin,
Yet can I maken other folk to twin3534
From avarice, and sorë them repent.
But that is not my principal intent;
I preachë nothing but for covetise.
Of this mattére it ought enough suffice.

Then tell I them examples many a one,
Of oldë stories longë timë gone;
For lewëd3535 people lovë talës old;
Such thingës can they well report and hold.
What? trowë ye, that whilës I may preach
And winnë gold and silver for3536 I teach,
That I will live in povert’ wilfully?
Nay, nay, I thought it never truëly.
For I will preach and beg in sundry lands;
I will not do no labour with mine hands,
Nor makë baskets for to live thereby,
Because I will not beggen idlely.
I will none of the apostles counterfeit;3537
I will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat,
All3538 were it given of the poorest page,
Or of the poorest widow in a villáge:
All3539 should her children stervë3540 for famíne.
Nay, I will drink the liquor of the vine,
And have a jolly wench in every town.
But hearken, lordings, in conclusioún;
Your liking is, that I shall tell a tale
Now I have drunk a draught of corny ale,
By God, I hope I shall you tell a thing
That shall by reason be to your likíng;
For though myself be a full vicious man,
A moral tale yet I you tellë can,
Which I am wont to preachë, for to win.
Now hold your peace, my tale I will begin.

In Flanders whilom was a company
Of youngë folkës, that hauntéd follý,
As riot, hazard, stewës, and tavérns;
Where as with lutës, harpës, and gitérns,3541
They dance and play at dice both day and night,
And eat also, and drink over their might;
Through which they do the devil sacrifice
Within the devil’s temple, in cursed wise,
By superfluity abomináble.
Their oathës be so great and so damnáble,
That it is grisly3542 for to hear them swear.
Our blissful Lordë’s body they to-tear;3543
Them thought the Jewës rent him not enough;
And each of them at other’s sinnë lough.3544
And right anon in comë tombesteres3545
Fetis3546 and small, and youngë fruitesteres.3547
Singers with harpës, baudës,3548 waferers,3549
Which be the very devil’s officers,
To kindle and blow the fire of lechery,
That is annexed unto gluttony.
The Holy Writ take I to my witnéss,
That luxury is in wine and drunkenness.3550
Lo, how that drunken Lot unkindëly3551
Lay by his daughters two unwittingly,
So drunk he was he knew not what he wrought.
Heródes, who so well the stories sought,3552
When he of wine replete was at his feast,
Right at his owen table gave his hest3553
To slay the Baptist John full guiltëless.
Seneca saith a good word, doubtëless:
He saith he can no differencë find
Betwixt a man that is out of his mind,
And a man whichë that is drunkelew:3554
But that woodnéss,3555 y-fallen in a shrew,3556
Persevereth longer than drunkenness.

O gluttony, full of all cursedness;
O cause first of our confusión,
Original of our damnatión,
Till Christ had bought us with his blood again!
Lookë, how dearë, shortly for to sayn,
Abought3557 was first this cursed villainy:
Corrupt was all this world for gluttony.
Adam our father, and his wife also,
From Paradise, to labour and to woe,
Were driven for that vice, it is no dread.3558
For while that Adam fasted, as I read,
He was in Paradise; and when that he
Ate of the fruit defended3559 of the tree,
Anon he was cast out to woe and pain.
O gluttony! well ought us on thee plain.
Oh! wist a man how many maladies
Follow of éxcess and of gluttonies,
He wouldë be the morë measuráble3560
Of his dietë, sitting at his table.
Alas! the shortë throat, the tender mouth,
Maketh that east and west, and north and south,
In earth, in air, in water, men do swink3561
To get a glutton dainty meat and drink.
Of this mattére, O Paul! well canst thou treat
Meat unto womb, and womb eke unto meat,
Shall God destroyë both, as Paulus saith.3562
Alas! a foul thing is it, by my faith,
To say this word, and fouler is the deed,
When man so drinketh of the white and red,3563
That of his throat he maketh his privý
Through thilkë cursed superfluity
The apostle saith,3564 weeping full piteously,
There walk many, of which you told have I⁠—
I say it now weeping with piteous voice⁠—
That they be enemies of Christë’s crois;3565
Of which the end is death; womb is their God.
O womb, O belly, stinking is thy cod,3566
Full fill’d of dung and of corruptioún;
At either end of thee foul is the soun’.
How great laboúr and cost is thee to find!3567
These cookës how they stamp, and strain, and grind,
And turnë substance into accident,
To fúlfil all thy likerous talent!
Out of the hardë bonës knockë they
The marrow, for they castë naught away
That may go through the gullet soft and swoot3568
Of spicery and leaves, of bark and root,
Shall be his sauce y-maked by delight,
To make him have a newer appetite.
But, certes, he that haunteth such delices
Is dead while that he liveth in those vices.

A lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness
Is full of striving and of wretchedness.
O drunken man! disfigur’d is thy face,3569
Sour is thy breath, foul art thou to embrace:
And through thy drunken nose sowneth the soun’,
As though thous saidest aye, Samsoún! Samsoún!
And yet, God wot, Samson drank never wine.
Thou fallest as it were a sticked swine;
Thy tongue is lost, and all thine honest cure;3570
For drunkenness is very sepultúre
Of mannë’s wit and his discretión.
In whom that drink hath dominatión,
He can no counsel keep, it is no dread.3571
Now keep you from the white and from the red,
And namely3572 from the whitë wine of Lepe,3573
That is to sell in Fish Street3574 and in Cheap.
This wine of Spainë creepeth subtilly
In other winës growing fastë by,
Of which there riseth such fumosity,
That when a man hath drunken draughtës three,
And weeneth that he be at home in Cheap,
He is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe,
Not at the Róchelle, nor at Bourdeaux town;
And thennë will he say, Samsoún! Samsoún!
But hearken, lordings, one word, I you pray,
That all the sov’reign actës, dare I say,
Of victories in the Old Testament,
Through very God that is omnipotent,
Were done in abstinence and in prayére:
Look in the Bible, and there ye may it lear.3575
Look, Attila, the greatë conqueror,
Died in his sleep,3576 with shame and dishonór,
Bleeding aye at his nose in drunkenness:
A captain should aye live in soberness.
And o’er all this, advisë3577 you right well
What was commanded unto Lemuel;
Not Samuel, but Lemuel, say I.
Readë the Bible,3578 and find it expresslý
Of wine giving to them that have justíce.
No more of this, for it may well suffice.

And, now that I have spoke of gluttony,
Now will I you defendë hazardry.3579
Hazárd is very mother of leasíngs,3580
And of deceit, and cursed forswearíngs:
Blasphem’ of Christ, manslaughter, and waste also
Of chattel3581 and of time; and furthermo’
It is repreve,3582 and contrar’ of honoúr,
For to be held a common hazardoúr.
And ever the higher he is of estate,
The morë he is holden desolate.3583
If that a princë usë hazardry,
In allë governance and policy
He is, as by commón opinión,
Y-hold the less in reputatión.

Chilon, that was a wise ambassador,
Was sent to Corinth with full great honór
From Lacedaemon,3584 to make álliánce;
And when he came, it happen’d him, by chance,
That all the greatest that were of that land,
Y-playing attë hazard he them fand.
For which, as soon as that it mightë be,
He stole him home again to his countrý.
And saidë there, “I will not lose my name,
Nor will I take on me so great diffame,3585
You to ally unto no hazardors.3586
Sendë some other wise ambassadors,
For, by my troth, me werë lever3587 die,
Than I should you to hazardors ally.
For ye, that be so glorious in honoúrs,
Shall not ally you to no hazardoúrs,
As by my will, nor as by my treatý.”
This wisë philosópher thus said he.
Look eke how to the King Demetrius
The King of Parthes, as the book saith us,
Sent him a pair of dice of gold in scorn,
For he had used hazard therebeforn:
For which he held his glory and renown
At no valúe or reputatioún.
Lordës may finden other manner play
Honest enough to drive the day away.

Now will I speak of oathës false and great
A word or two, as oldë bookës treat.
Great swearing is a thing abomináble,
And false swearing is morë reprováble.
The highë God forbade swearing at all;
Witness on Matthew:3588 but in special
Of swearing saith the holy Jeremie,3589
Thou shalt swear sooth thine oathës, and not lie:
And swear in doom,3590 and eke in righteousness;
But idle swearing is a cursedness.3591
Behold and see, there in the firstë table
Of highë Goddë’s hestës3592 honouráble,
How that the second best of him is this,
Take not my name in idle3593 or amiss.
Lo, rather3594 he forbiddeth such swearíng,
Than homicide, or many a cursed thing;
I say that as by order thus it standeth;
This knoweth he that his hests understandeth,
How that the second hest of God is that.
And farthermore, I will thee tell all plat,3595
That vengeance shall not partë from his house,
That of his oathës is outrageoús.
“By Goddë’s precious heart, and by his nails,3596
And by the blood of Christ, that is in Hailes,3597
Seven is my chance, and thine is cinque and trey:
By Goddë’s armës, if thou falsely play,
This dagger shall throughout thine heartë go.”
This fruit comes of the bicched3598 bonës two,
Forswearing, ire, falseness, and homicide.
Now, for the love of Christ that for us died,
Leavë your oathës, bothë great and smale.
But, Sirs, now will I ell you forth my tale.

These riotoúrës three, of which I tell,
Long erst than3599 primë rang of any bell,
Were set them in a tavern for to drink;
And as they sat, they heard a bellë clink
Before a corpse, was carried to the grave.
That one of them gan callë to his knave,3600
“Go bet,”3601 quoth he, “and askë readily
What corpse is this, that passeth here forth by;
And look that thou report his namë well.”
“Sir,” quoth the boy, “it needeth never a deal;3602
It was me told ere ye came here two hours;
He was, pardie, an old fellów of yours,
And suddenly he was y-slain tonight;
Fordrunk3603 as he sat on his bench upright,
There came a privy thief, men clepë Death,
That in this country all the people slay’th,
And with his spear he smote his heart in two,
And went his way withoutë wordës mo’.
He hath a thousand slain this pestilence;
And, master, ere you come in his presénce,
Me thinketh that it were full necessary
For to beware of such an adversary;
Be ready for to meet him evermore.
Thus taughtë me my dame; I say no more.”
“By Saintë Mary,” said the tavernére,
“The child saith sooth, for he hath slain this year,
Hence ov’r a mile, within a great villáge,
Both man and woman, child, and hind, and page;
I trow his habitatión be there;
To be advised3604 great wisdóm it were,
Ere3605 that he did a man a dishonoúr.”
“Yea, Goddë’s armës,” quoth this riotoúr,
“Is it such peril with him for to meet?
I shall him seek, by stile and eke by street.
I make a vow, by Goddë’s dignë3606 bones.
Hearken, fellóws, we three be allë ones:3607
Let each of us hold up his hand to other,
And each of us become the other’s brother,
And we will slay this falsë traitor Death;
He shall be slain, he that so many slay’th,
By Goddë’s dignity, ere it be night.”

Together have these three their trothë plight
To live and die each one of them for other
As though he were his owen boren3608 brother.
And up they start, all drunken, in this rage,
And forth they go towárdës that villáge
Of which the taverner had spoke beforn,
And many a grisly3609 oathë have they sworn,
And Christë’s blessed body they to-rent;3610
“Death shall be dead, if that we may him hent.”3611
When they had gone not fully half a mile,
Right as they would have trodden o’er a stile,
An old man and a poorë with them met.
This oldë man full meekëly them gret,3612
And saidë thus; “Now, lordës, God you see!”3613
The proudest of these riotoúrës three
Answér’d again; “What? churl, with sorry grace,
Why art thou all forwrapped3614 save thy face?
Why livest thou so long in so great age?”
This oldë man gan look on his viságe,
And saidë thus; “For that I cannot find
A man, though that I walked unto Ind,
Neither in city, nor in no villáge,
That wouldë change his youthë for mine age;
And therefore must I have mine agë still
As longë time as it is Goddë’s will.
And Death, alas! he will not have my life.
Thus walk I like a restëless caitífe,3615
And on the ground, which is my mother’s gate,
I knockë with my staff, early and late,
And say to her, ‘Leve3616 mother, let me in.
Lo, how I wanë, flesh, and blood, and skin;
Alas! when shall my bonës be at rest?
Mother, with you I wouldë change my chest,
That in my chamber longë time hath be,
Yea, for an hairy clout to wrap in me.’3617
But yet to me she will not do that grace,
For which fall pale and welked3618 is my face.
But, Sirs, to you it is no courtesy
To speak unto an old man villainy,
But3619 he trespass in word or else in deed.
In Holy Writ ye may yourselvës read;
‘Against3620 an old man, hoar upon his head,
Ye should arisë:’ therefore I you rede,3621
Ne do unto an old man no harm now,
No morë than ye would a man did you
In age, if that ye may so long abide.
And God be with you, whether ye go or ride.
I must go thither as I have to go.”

“Nay, oldë churl, by God thou shalt not so,”
Saidë this other hazardor anon;
“Thou partest not so lightly, by Saint John.
Thou spakest right now of that traitor Death,
That in this country all our friendës slay’th;
Have here my troth, as thou art his espy;3622
Tell where he is, or thou shalt it abie,3623
By God and by the holy sacrament;
For soothly thou art one of his assent
To slay us youngë folk, thou falsë thief.”
“Now, Sirs,” quoth he, “if it be you so lief3624
To findë Death, turn up this crooked way,
For in that grove I left him, by my fay,
Under a tree, and there he will abide;
Nor for your boast he will him nothing hide.
See ye that oak? right there ye shall him find.
God savë you, that bought again mankind,
And you amend!” Thus said this oldë man;
And evereach of these riotoúrës ran,
Till they came to the tree, and there they found
Of florins fine, of gold y-coined round,
Well nigh a seven bushels, as them thought.
No longer as then after Death they sought;
But each of them so glad was of the sight,
For that the florins were so fair and bright,
That down they sat them by the precious hoard.
The youngest of them spake the firstë word:

“Brethren,” quoth he, “take keep what I shall say;
My wit is great, though that I bourde3625 and play.
This treasure hath Fortúne unto us given
In mirth and jollity our life to liven;
And lightly as it comes, so will we spend.
Hey! Goddë’s precious dignity! who wend3626
To-day that we should have so fair a grace?
But might this gold he carried from this place
Home to my house, or ellës unto yours
(For well I wot that all this gold is ours),
Then werë we in high felicitý.
But truëly by day it may not be;
Men wouldë say that we were thievës strong,
And for our owen treasure do us hong.3627
This treasure mustë carried be by night,
As wisely and as slily as it might.
Wherefore I rede,3628 that cut3629 among us all
We draw, and let see where the cut will fall:
And he that hath the cut, with heartë blithe
Shall run unto the town, and that full swithe,3630
And bring us bread and wine full privily:
And two of us shall keepë subtilly
This treasure well: and if he will not tarry,
When it is night, we will this treasure carry,
By one assent, where as us thinketh best.”
Then one of them the cut brought in his fist,
And bade them draw, and look where it would fall;
And it fell on the youngest of them all;
And forth toward the town he went anon.
And all so soon as that he was y-gone,
The one of them spake thus unto the other;
“Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother,
Thy profit3631 will I tell thee right anon.
Thou knowest well that our fellów is gone,
And here is gold, and that full great plentý,
That shall departed3632 he among us three.
But natheless, if I could shape3633 it so
That it departed were among us two,
Had I not done a friendë’s turn to thee?”
Th’ other answér’d, “I n’ot3634 how that may be;
He knows well that the gold is with us tway.
What shall we do? what shall we to him say?”
“Shall it be counsel?”3635 said the firstë shrew;3636
“And I shall tell to thee in wordës few
What we shall do, and bring it well about.”
“I grantë,” quoth the other, “out of doubt,
That by my truth I will thee not bewray.”
“Now,” quoth the first, “thou know’st well we be tway,
And two of us shall stronger be than one.
Look, when that he is set,3637 thou right anon
Arise, as though thou wouldest with him play;
And I shall rive him through the sidës tway,
While that thou strugglest with him as in game;
And with thy dagger look thou do the same.
And then shall all this gold departed be,
My dearë friend, betwixtë thee and me:
Then may we both our lustës3638 all fulfil,
And play at dice right at our owen will.”
And thus accorded3639 be these shrewës3640 tway
To slay the third, as ye have heard me say.

The youngest, which that wentë to the town,
Full oft in heart he rolled up and down
The beauty of these florins new and bright.
“O Lord!” quoth he, “if so were that I might
Have all this treasure to myself alone,
There is no man that lives under the throne
Of God, that shouldë have so merry as I.”
And at the last the fiend our enemy
Put in his thought, that he should poison buy,
With which he mightë slay his fellows twy.3641
For why, the fiend found him in such livíng,3642
That he had leave to sorrow him to bring.
For this was utterly his full intent
To slay them both, and never to repent.
And forth he went, no longer would he tarry,
Into the town to an apothecáry,
And prayed him that he him wouldë sell
Some poison, that he might his rattës quell,3643
And eke there was a polecat in his haw,3644
That, as he said, his capons had y-slaw:3645
And fain he would him wreak,3646 if that he might,
Of vermin that destroyed him by night.
Th’ apothecary answer’d, “Thou shalt have
A thing, as wisly3647 God my soulë save,
In all this world there is no creatúre
That eat or drank hath of this cónfectúre,
Not but the mountance3648 of a corn of wheat,
That he shall not his life anon forlete;3649
Yea, sterve3650 he shall, and that in lessë while
Than thou wilt go apace3651 nought but a mile:
This poison is so strong and violent.”
This cursed man hath in his hand y-hent3652
This poison in a box, and swift he ran
Into the nextë street, unto a man,
And borrow’d of him largë bottles three;
And in the two the poison poured he;
The third he keptë clean for his own drink,
For all the night he shope him3653 for to swink3654
In carrying off the gold out of that place.
And when this riotoúr, with sorry grace,
Had fill’d with wine his greatë bottles three,
To his fellóws again repaired he.

What needeth it thereof to sermon3655 more?
For, right as they had cast3656 his death before,
Right so they have him slain, and that anon.
And when that this was done, thus spake the one;
“Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry,
And afterward we will his body bury.”
And with that word it happen’d him par cas3657
To take the bottle where the poison was,
And drank, and gave his fellow drink also,
For which anon they sterved3658 both the two.
But certes I suppose that Avicen
Wrote never in no canon, nor no fen,3659
More wondrous signës of empoisoníng,
Than had these wretches two ere their endíng.
Thus ended be these homicidës two,
And eke the false empoisoner also.
O cursed sin, full of all cursedness!
O trait’rous homicide! O wickedness!
O glutt’ny, luxury, and hazardry!
Thou blasphemer of Christ with villany,3660
And oathës great, of usage and of pride!
Alas! mankindë, how may it betide,
That to thy Creatór, which that thee wrought,
And with his precious heartë-blood thee bought,
Thou art so false and so unkind,3661 alas!

Now, good men, God forgive you your trespáss,
And ware3662 you from the sin of avaríce.
Mine holy pardon may you all waríce,3663
So that ye offer nobles or sterlings,3664
Or ellës silver brooches, spoons, or rings.
Bowë your head under this holy bull.
Come up, ye wives, and offer of your will;
Your names I enter in my roll anon;
Into the bliss of heaven shall ye gon;
I you assoil3665 by minë high powére,
You that will offer, as clean and eke as clear
As ye were born. Lo, Sirës, thus I preach;
And Jesus Christ, that is our soulës’ leech,3666
So grantë you his pardon to receive;
For that is best, I will not deceive.

But, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale;
I have relícs and pardon in my mail,
As fair as any man in Engleland,
Which were me given by the Popë’s hand.
If any of you will of devotión
Offer, and have mine absolutión,
Come forth anon, and kneelë here adown,
And meekëly receivë my pardoún.
Or ellës takë pardon, as ye wend,3667
All new and fresh at every townë’s end,
So that ye offer, always new and new,
Nobles or pence which that be good and true.
’Tis an honoúr to evereach that is here,
That ye have a suffisant pardonére
T’ assoilë3668 you in country as ye ride,
For áventúrës which that may betide.
Paráventure there may fall one or two
Down of his horse, and break his neck in two.
Look, what a surety is it to you all,
That I am in your fellowship y-fall,
That may assoil you bothë more and lass,3669
When that the soul shall from the body pass.
I redë3670 that our Hostë shall begin,
For he is most enveloped in sin.
Come forth, Sir Host, and offer first anon,
And thou shalt kiss; the relics every one,
Yea, for a groat; unbuckle anon thy purse.

“Nay, nay,” quoth he, “then have I Christë’s curse!
Let be,” quoth he, “it shall not be, so thé ’ch.3671
Thou wouldest make me kiss thine oldë breech,
And swear it were a relic of a saint,
Though it were with thy fundament depaint’.
But, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,3672
I would I had thy coilons in mine hand,
Instead of relics, or of sanctuary.
Let cut them off, I will thee help them carry;
They shall be shrined in a hoggë’s tord.”
The Pardoner answered not one word;
So wroth he was, no wordë would he say.

“Now,” quoth our Host, “I will no longer play
With thee, nor with none other angry man.”
But right anon the worthy Knight began
(When that he saw that all the people lough3673),
“No more of this, for it is right enough.
Sir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer;
And ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear,
I pray you that ye kiss the Pardoner;
And, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,3674
And as we diddë, let us laugh and play.”
Anon they kiss’d, and rodë forth their way.