15. THE PARDONER’S Tale

Introduction and Prologue

287 Oure Hooste gan to swere as he were wood;
288 “Harrow!” quod he, “by nayles and by blood!
289 This was a fals cherl and a fals justise.
290 As shameful deeth as herte may devyse
291 Come to thise juges and hire advocatz!
292 Algate this sely mayde is slayn, allas!
293 Allas, to deere boughte she beautee!
294 Wherfore I seye al day that men may see
295 That yiftes of Fortune and of Nature
296 Been cause of deeth to many a creature.
297 Hire beautee was hire deth, I dar wel sayn.
298 Allas, so pitously as she was slayn!
299 Of bothe yiftes that I speke of now
300 Men han ful ofte moore for harm than prow.
301 But trewely, myn owene maister deere,
302 This is a pitous tale for to heere.
303 But nathelees, passe over; is no fors.
304 I pray to God so save thy gentil cors,
305 And eek thyne urynals and thy jurdones,
306 Thyn ypocras, and eek thy galiones,
307 And every boyste ful of thy letuarie;
308 God blesse hem, and oure lady Seinte Marie!
309 So moot I theen, thou art a propre man,
310 And lyk a prelat, by Seint Ronyan!
311 Seyde I nat wel? I kan nat speke in terme;
312 But wel I woot thou doost myn herte to erme,
313 That I almoost have caught a cardynacle.
314 By corpus bones! but I have triacle,
315 Or elles a draughte of moyste and corny ale,
316 Or but I heere anon a myrie tale,
317 Myn herte is lost for pitee of this mayde.
318 Thou beel amy, thou Pardoner,” he sayde,
319 “Telle us som myrthe or japes right anon.”
320 “It shal be doon,” quod he, “by Seint Ronyon!
321 But first,” quod he, “heere at this alestake
322 I wol bothe drynke and eten of a cake.”
323 But right anon thise gentils gonne to crye,
324 “Nay, lat hym telle us of no ribaudye!
325 Telle us som moral thyng, that we may leere
326 Som wit, and thanne wol we gladly heere.”
327 “I graunte, ywis,” quod he, “but I moot thynke
328 Upon som honest thyng while that I drynke.”
329 “Lordynges,” quod he, “in chirches whan I preche,
330 I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche,
331 And rynge it out as round as gooth a belle,
332 For I kan al by rote that I telle.
333 My theme is alwey oon, and evere was —
334 Radix malorum est Cupiditas.
335 “First I pronounce whennes that I come,
336 And thanne my bulles shewe I, alle and some.
337 Oure lige lordes seel on my patente,
338 That shewe I first, my body to warente,
339 That no man be so boold, ne preest ne clerk,
340 Me to destourbe of Cristes hooly werk.
341 And after that thanne telle I forth my tales;
342 Bulles of popes and of cardynales,
343 Of patriarkes and bishopes I shewe,
344 And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe,
345 To saffron with my predicacioun,
346 And for to stire hem to devocioun.
347 Thanne shewe I forth my longe cristal stones,
348 Ycrammed ful of cloutes and of bones —
349 Relikes been they, as wenen they echoon.
350 Thanne have I in latoun a sholder-boon
351 Which that was of an hooly Jewes sheep.
352 ‘Goode men,’ I seye, ‘taak of my wordes keep;
353 If that this boon be wasshe in any welle,
354 If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swelle
355 That any worm hath ete, or worm ystonge,
356 Taak water of that welle and wassh his tonge,
357 And it is hool anon; and forthermoore,
358 Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every soore
359 Shal every sheep be hool that of this welle
360 Drynketh a draughte. Taak kep eek what I telle:
361 If that the good-man that the beestes oweth
362 Wol every wyke, er that the cok hym croweth,
363 Fastynge, drynken of this welle a draughte,
364 As thilke hooly Jew oure eldres taughte,
365 His beestes and his stoor shal multiplie.
366 ‘ And, sires, also it heeleth jalousie;
367 For though a man be falle in jalous rage,
368 Lat maken with this water his potage,
369 And nevere shal he moore his wyf mystriste,
370 Though he the soothe of hir defaute wiste,
371 Al had she taken prestes two or thre.
372 ‘Heere is a miteyn eek, that ye may se.
373 He that his hand wol putte in this mitayn,
374 He shal have multipliyng of his grayn,
375 Whan he hath sowen, be it whete or otes,
376 So that he offre pens, or elles grotes.
377 ‘Goode men and wommen, o thyng warne I yow:
378 If any wight be in this chirche now
379 That hath doon synne horrible, that he
380 Dar nat, for shame, of it yshryven be,
381 Or any womman, be she yong or old,
382 That hath ymaked hir housbonde cokewold,
383 Swich folk shal have no power ne no grace
384 To offren to my relikes in this place.
385 And whoso fyndeth hym out of swich blame,
386 He wol come up and offre a Goddes name,
387 And I assoille him by the auctoritee
388 Which that by bulle ygraunted was to me.’
389 “By this gaude have I wonne, yeer by yeer,
390 An hundred mark sith I was pardoner.
391 I stonde lyk a clerk in my pulpet,
392 And whan the lewed peple is doun yset,
393 I preche so as ye han herd bifoore
394 And telle an hundred false japes moore.
395 Thanne peyne I me to strecche forth the nekke,
396 And est and west upon the peple I bekke,
397 As dooth a dowve sittynge on a berne.
398 Myne handes and my tonge goon so yerne
399 That it is joye to se my bisynesse.
400 Of avarice and of swich cursednesse
401 Is al my prechyng, for to make hem free
402 To yeven hir pens, and namely unto me.
403 For myn entente is nat but for to wynne,
404 And nothyng for correccioun of synne.
405 I rekke nevere, whan that they been beryed,
406 Though that hir soules goon a-blakeberyed!
407 For certes, many a predicacioun
408 Comth ofte tyme of yvel entencioun;
409 Som for plesance of folk and flaterye,
410 To been avaunced by ypocrisye,
411 And som for veyne glorie, and som for hate.
412 For whan I dar noon oother weyes debate,
413 Thanne wol I stynge hym with my tonge smerte
414 In prechyng, so that he shal nat asterte
415 To been defamed falsly, if that he
416 Hath trespased to my bretheren or to me.
417 For though I telle noght his propre name,
418 Men shal wel knowe that it is the same,
419 By signes, and by othere circumstances.
420 Thus quyte I folk that doon us displesances;
421 Thus spitte I out my venym under hewe
422 Of hoolynesse, to semen hooly and trewe.
423 “But shortly myn entente I wol devyse:
424 I preche of no thyng but for coveityse.
425 Therfore my theme is yet, and evere was,
426 Radix malorum est Cupiditas.
427 Thus kan I preche agayn that same vice
428 Which that I use, and that is avarice.
429 But though myself be gilty in that synne,
430 Yet kan I maken oother folk to twynne
431 From avarice and soore to repente.
432 But that is nat my principal entente;
433 I preche nothyng but for coveitise.
434 Of this mateere it oghte ynogh suffise.
435 “Thanne telle I hem ensamples many oon
436 Of olde stories longe tyme agoon.
437 For lewed peple loven tales olde;
438 Swiche thynges kan they wel reporte and holde.
439 What, trowe ye, that whiles I may preche,
440 And wynne gold and silver for I teche,
441 That I wol lyve in poverte wilfully?
442 Nay, nay, I thoghte it nevere, trewely!
443 For I wol preche and begge in sondry landes;
444 I wol nat do no labour with myne handes,
445 Ne make baskettes and lyve therby,
446 By cause I wol nat beggen ydelly.
447 I wol noon of the apostles countrefete;
448 I wol have moneie, wolle, chese, and whete,
449 Al were it yeven of the povereste page,
450 Or of the povereste wydwe in a village,
451 Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne.
452 Nay, I wol drynke licour of the vyne
453 And have a joly wenche in every toun.
454 But herkneth, lordynges, in conclusioun:
455 Youre likyng is that I shal telle a tale.
456 Now have I dronke a draughte of corny ale,
457 By God, I hope I shal yow telle a thyng
458 That shal by reson been at youre likyng.
459 For though myself be a ful vicious man,
460 A moral tale yet I yow telle kan,
461 Which I am wont to preche for to wynne.
462 Now hoold youre pees! My tale I wol bigynne.”

The Tale

463 In Flaundres whilom was a compaignye
464 Of yonge folk that haunteden folye,
465 As riot, hasard, stywes, and tavernes,
466 Where as with harpes, lutes, and gyternes,
467 They daunce and pleyen at dees bothe day and nyght,
468 And eten also and drynken over hir myght,
469 Thurgh which they doon the devel sacrifise
470 Withinne that develes temple in cursed wise
471 By superfluytee abhomynable.
472 Hir othes been so grete and so dampnable
473 That it is grisly for to heere hem swere.
474 Oure blissed Lordes body they totere —
475 Hem thoughte that Jewes rente hym noght ynough —
476 And ech of hem at otheres synne lough.
477 And right anon thanne comen tombesteres
478 Fetys and smale, and yonge frutesteres,
479 Syngeres with harpes, baudes, wafereres,
480 Whiche been the verray develes officeres
481 To kyndle and blowe the fyr of lecherye,
482 That is annexed unto glotonye.
483 The hooly writ take I to my witnesse
484 That luxurie is in wyn and dronkenesse.
485 Lo, how that dronken Looth, unkyndely,
486 Lay by his doghtres two, unwityngly;
487 So dronke he was, he nyste what he wroghte.
488 Herodes, whoso wel the stories soghte,
489 Whan he of wyn was repleet at his feeste,
490 Right at his owene table he yaf his heeste
491 To sleen the Baptist John, ful giltelees.
492 Senec seith a good word doutelees;
493 He seith he kan no difference fynde
494 Bitwix a man that is out of his mynde
495 And a man which that is dronkelewe,
496 But that woodnesse, yfallen in a shrewe,
497 Persevereth lenger than doth dronkenesse.
498 O glotonye, ful of cursednesse!
499 O cause first of oure confusioun!
500 O original of oure dampnacioun,
501 Til Crist hadde boght us with his blood agayn!
502 Lo, how deere, shortly for to sayn,
503 Aboght was thilke cursed vileynye!
504 Corrupt was al this world for glotonye.
505 Adam oure fader, and his wyf also,
506 Fro Paradys to labour and to wo
507 Were dryven for that vice, it is no drede.
508 For whil that Adam fasted, as I rede,
509 He was in Paradys; and whan that he
510 Eet of the fruyt deffended on the tree,
511 Anon he was out cast to wo and peyne.
512 O glotonye, on thee wel oghte us pleyne!
513 O, wiste a man how manye maladyes
514 Folwen of excesse and of glotonyes,
515 He wolde been the moore mesurable
516 Of his diete, sittynge at his table.
517 Allas, the shorte throte, the tendre mouth,
518 Maketh that est and west and north and south,
519 In erthe, in eir, in water, men to swynke
520 To gete a glotoun deyntee mete and drynke!
521 Of this matiere, O Paul, wel kanstow trete:
522 “Mete unto wombe, and wombe eek unto mete,
523 Shal God destroyen bothe,” as Paulus seith.
524 Allas, a foul thyng is it, by my feith,
525 To seye this word, and fouler is the dede,
526 Whan man so drynketh of the white and rede
527 That of his throte he maketh his pryvee
528 Thurgh thilke cursed superfluitee.
529 The apostel wepyng seith ful pitously,
530 “Ther walken manye of whiche yow toold have I —
531 I seye it now wepyng, with pitous voys —
532 They been enemys of Cristes croys,
533 Of whiche the ende is deeth; wombe is hir god!”
534 O wombe! O bely! O stynkyng cod,
535 Fulfilled of dong and of corrupcioun!
536 At either ende of thee foul is the soun.
537 How greet labour and cost is thee to fynde!
538 Thise cookes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grynde,
539 And turnen substaunce into accident
540 To fulfille al thy likerous talent!
541 Out of the harde bones knokke they
542 The mary, for they caste noght awey
543 That may go thurgh the golet softe and swoote.
544 Of spicerie of leef, and bark, and roote
545 Shal been his sauce ymaked by delit,
546 To make hym yet a newer appetit.
547 But, certes, he that haunteth swiche delices
548 Is deed, whil that he lyveth in tho vices.
549 A lecherous thyng is wyn, and dronkenesse
550 Is ful of stryvyng and of wrecchednesse.
551 O dronke man, disfigured is thy face,
552 Sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace,
553 And thurgh thy dronke nose semeth the soun
554 As though thou seydest ay “Sampsoun, Sampsoun!”
555 And yet, God woot, Sampsoun drank nevere no wyn.
556 Thou fallest as it were a styked swyn;
557 Thy tonge is lost, and al thyn honeste cure,
558 For dronkenesse is verray sepulture
559 Of mannes wit and his discrecioun.
560 In whom that drynke hath dominacioun
561 He kan no conseil kepe; it is no drede.
562 Now kepe yow fro the white and fro the rede,
563 And namely fro the white wyn of Lepe
564 That is to selle in Fysshstrete or in Chepe.
565 This wyn of Spaigne crepeth subtilly
566 In othere wynes, growynge faste by,
567 Of which ther ryseth swich fumositee
568 That whan a man hath dronken draughtes thre,
569 And weneth that he be at hoom in Chepe,
570 He is in Spaigne, right at the toune of Lepe —
571 Nat at the Rochele, ne at Burdeux toun —
572 And thanne wol he seye “Sampsoun, Sampsoun!”
573 But herkneth, lordynges, o word, I yow preye,
574 That alle the sovereyn actes, dar I seye,
575 Of victories in the Olde Testament,
576 Thurgh verray God, that is omnipotent,
577 Were doon in abstinence and in preyere.
578 Looketh the Bible, and ther ye may it leere.
579 Looke, Attilla, the grete conquerour,
580 Deyde in his sleep, with shame and dishonour,
581 Bledynge ay at his nose in dronkenesse.
582 A capitayn sholde lyve in sobrenesse.
583 And over al this, avyseth yow right wel
584 What was comaunded unto Lamuel —
585 Nat Samuel, but Lamuel, seye I;
586 Redeth the Bible, and fynde it expresly
587 Of wyn-yevyng to hem that han justise.
588 Namoore of this, for it may wel suffise.
589 And now that I have spoken of glotonye,
590 Now wol I yow deffenden hasardrye.
591 Hasard is verray mooder of lesynges,
592 And of deceite, and cursed forswerynges,
593 Blaspheme of Crist, manslaughtre, and wast also
594 Of catel and of tyme; and forthermo,
595 It is repreeve and contrarie of honour
596 For to ben holde a commune hasardour.
597 And ever the hyer he is of estaat,
598 The moore is he yholden desolaat.
599 If that a prynce useth hasardrye,
600 In alle governaunce and policye
601 He is, as by commune opinioun,
602 Yholde the lasse in reputacioun.
603 Stilboun, that was a wys embassadour,
604 Was sent to Corynthe in ful greet honour
605 Fro Lacidomye to make hire alliaunce.
606 And whan he cam, hym happede, par chaunce,
607 That alle the gretteste that were of that lond,
608 Pleyynge atte hasard he hem fond.
609 For which, as soone as it myghte be,
610 He stal hym hoom agayn to his contree,
611 And seyde, “Ther wol I nat lese my name,
612 Ne I wol nat take on me so greet defame,
613 Yow for to allie unto none hasardours.
614 Sendeth othere wise embassadours;
615 For, by my trouthe, me were levere dye
616 Than I yow sholde to hasardours allye.
617 For ye, that been so glorious in honours,
618 Shul nat allyen yow with hasardours
619 As by my wyl, ne as by my tretee.”
620 This wise philosophre, thus seyde hee.
621 Looke eek that to the kyng Demetrius
622 The kyng of Parthes, as the book seith us,
623 Sente him a paire of dees of gold in scorn,
624 For he hadde used hasard ther-biforn;
625 For which he heeld his glorie or his renoun
626 At no value or reputacioun.
627 Lordes may fynden oother maner pley
628 Honest ynough to dryve the day awey.
629 Now wol I speke of othes false and grete
630 A word or two, as olde bookes trete.
631 Gret sweryng is a thyng abhominable,
632 And fals sweryng is yet moore reprevable.
633 The heighe God forbad sweryng at al,
634 Witnesse on Mathew; but in special
635 Of sweryng seith the hooly Jeremye,
636 “Thou shalt swere sooth thyne othes, and nat lye,
637 And swere in doom and eek in rightwisnesse”;
638 But ydel sweryng is a cursednesse.
639 Bihoold and se that in the firste table
640 Of heighe Goddes heestes honurable,
641 Hou that the seconde heeste of hym is this:
642 “Take nat my name in ydel or amys.”
643 Lo, rather he forbedeth swich sweryng
644 Than homycide or many a cursed thyng;
645 I seye that, as by ordre, thus it stondeth;
646 This knoweth, that his heestes understondeth,
647 How that the seconde heeste of God is that.
648 And forther over, I wol thee telle al plat
649 That vengeance shal nat parten from his hous
650 That of his othes is to outrageous.
651 “By Goddes precious herte,” and “By his nayles,”
652 And “By the blood of Crist that is in Hayles,
653 Sevene is my chaunce, and thyn is cynk and treye!”
654 “By Goddes armes, if thou falsly pleye,
655 This daggere shal thurghout thyn herte go!” —
656 This fruyt cometh of the bicched bones two,
657 Forsweryng, ire, falsnesse, homycide.
658 Now, for the love of Crist, that for us dyde,
659 Lete youre othes, bothe grete and smale.
660 But, sires, now wol I telle forth my tale.
661 Thise riotoures thre of whiche I telle,
662 Longe erst er prime rong of any belle,
663 Were set hem in a taverne to drynke,
664 And as they sat, they herde a belle clynke
665 Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave.
666 That oon of hem gan callen to his knave:
667 “Go bet,” quod he, “and axe redily
668 What cors is this that passeth heer forby;
669 And looke that thou reporte his name weel.”
670 “Sire,” quod this boy, “it nedeth never-a-deel;
671 It was me toold er ye cam heer two houres.
672 He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres,
673 And sodeynly he was yslayn to-nyght,
674 Fordronke, as he sat on his bench upright.
675 Ther cam a privee theef men clepeth Deeth,
676 That in this contree al the peple sleeth,
677 And with his spere he smoot his herte atwo,
678 And wente his wey withouten wordes mo.
679 He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence.
680 And, maister, er ye come in his presence,
681 Me thynketh that it were necessarie
682 For to be war of swich an adversarie.
683 Beth redy for to meete hym everemoore;
684 Thus taughte me my dame; I sey namoore.”
685 “By Seinte Marie!” seyde this taverner,
686 “The child seith sooth, for he hath slayn this yeer,
687 Henne over a mile, withinne a greet village,
688 Bothe man and womman, child, and hyne, and page;
689 I trowe his habitacioun be there.
690 To been avysed greet wysdom it were,
691 Er that he dide a man a dishonour.”
692 “Ye, Goddes armes!” quod this riotour,
693 “Is it swich peril with hym for to meete?
694 I shal hym seke by wey and eek by strete,
695 I make avow to Goddes digne bones!
696 Herkneth, felawes, we thre been al ones;
697 Lat ech of us holde up his hand til oother,
698 And ech of us bicomen otheres brother,
699 And we wol sleen this false traytour Deeth.
700 He shal be slayn, he that so manye sleeth,
701 By Goddes dignitee, er it be nyght!”
702 Togidres han thise thre hir trouthes plight
703 To lyve and dyen ech of hem for oother,
704 As though he were his owene ybore brother.
705 And up they stirte, al dronken in this rage,
706 And forth they goon towardes that village
707 Of which the taverner hadde spoke biforn.
708 And many a grisly ooth thanne han they sworn,
709 And Cristes blessed body they torente —
710 Deeth shal be deed, if that they may hym hente!
711 Whan they han goon nat fully half a mile,
712 Right as they wolde han troden over a stile,
713 An oold man and a povre with hem mette.
714 This olde man ful mekely hem grette,
715 And seyde thus, “Now, lordes, God yow see!”
716 The proudeste of thise riotoures three
717 Answerde agayn, “What, carl, with sory grace!
718 Why artow al forwrapped save thy face?
719 Why lyvestow so longe in so greet age?”
720 This olde man gan looke in his visage,
721 And seyde thus: “For I ne kan nat fynde
722 A man, though that I walked into Ynde,
723 Neither in citee ne in no village,
724 That wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age;
725 And therfore moot I han myn age stille,
726 As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille.
727 Ne Deeth, allas, ne wol nat han my lyf.
728 Thus walke I, lyk a restelees kaityf,
729 And on the ground, which is my moodres gate,
730 I knokke with my staf, bothe erly and late,
731 And seye ‘Leeve mooder, leet me in!
732 Lo how I vanysshe, flessh, and blood, and skyn!
733 Allas, whan shul my bones been at reste?
734 Mooder, with yow wolde I chaunge my cheste
735 That in my chambre longe tyme hath be,
736 Ye, for an heyre clowt to wrappe me!’
737 But yet to me she wol nat do that grace,
738 For which ful pale and welked is my face.
739 “But, sires, to yow it is no curteisye
740 To speken to an old man vileynye,
741 But he trespasse in word or elles in dede.
742 In Hooly Writ ye may yourself wel rede:
743 ‘ Agayns an oold man, hoor upon his heed,
744 Ye sholde arise;’ wherfore I yeve yow reed,
745 Ne dooth unto an oold man noon harm now,
746 Namoore than that ye wolde men did to yow
747 In age, if that ye so longe abyde.
748 And God be with yow, where ye go or ryde!
749 I moot go thider as I have to go.”
750 “Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shalt nat so,”
751 Seyde this oother hasardour anon;
752 “Thou partest nat so lightly, by Seint John!
753 Thou spak right now of thilke traytour Deeth.
754 That in this contree alle oure freendes sleeth.
755 Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his espye,
756 Telle where he is or thou shalt it abye,
757 By God and by the hooly sacrement!
758 For soothly thou art oon of his assent
759 To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef!”
760 “Now, sires,” quod he, “if that yow be so leef
761 To fynde Deeth, turne up this croked wey,
762 For in that grove I lafte hym, by my fey,
763 Under a tree, and there he wole abyde;
764 Noght for youre boost he wole him no thyng hyde.
765 Se ye that ook? Right there ye shal hym fynde.
766 God save yow, that boghte agayn mankynde,
767 And yow amende!” Thus seyde this olde man;
768 And everich of thise riotoures ran
769 Til he cam to that tree, and ther they founde
770 Of floryns fyne of gold ycoyned rounde
771 Wel ny an eighte busshels, as hem thoughte.
772 No lenger thanne after Deeth they soughte,
773 But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte,
774 For that the floryns been so faire and brighte,
775 That doun they sette hem by this precious hoord.
776 The worste of hem, he spak the firste word.
777 “Bretheren,” quod he, “taak kep what that I seye;
778 My wit is greet, though that I bourde and pleye.
779 This tresor hath Fortune unto us yiven
780 In myrthe and joliftee oure lyf to lyven,
781 And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende.
782 Ey, Goddes precious dignitee! Who wende
783 To-day that we sholde han so fair a grace?
784 But myghte this gold be caried fro this place
785 Hoom to myn hous, or elles unto youres —
786 For wel ye woot that al this gold is oures —
787 Thanne were we in heigh felicitee.
788 But trewely, by daye it may nat bee.
789 Men wolde seyn that we were theves stronge,
790 And for oure owene tresor doon us honge.
791 This tresor moste ycaried be by nyghte
792 As wisely and as slyly as it myghte.
793 Wherfore I rede that cut among us alle
794 Be drawe, and lat se wher the cut wol falle;
795 And he that hath the cut with herte blithe
796 Shal renne to the town, and that ful swithe,
797 And brynge us breed and wyn ful prively.
798 And two of us shul kepen subtilly
799 This tresor wel; and if he wol nat tarie,
800 Whan it is nyght, we wol this tresor carie,
801 By oon assent, where as us thynketh best.”
802 That oon of hem the cut broghte in his fest,
803 And bad hem drawe and looke where it wol falle;
804 And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle,
805 And forth toward the toun he wente anon.
806 And also soone as that he was gon,
807 That oon of hem spak thus unto that oother:
808 “Thow knowest wel thou art my sworen brother;
809 Thy profit wol I telle thee anon.
810 Thou woost wel that oure felawe is agon.
811 And heere is gold, and that ful greet plentee,
812 That shal departed been among us thre.
813 But nathelees, if I kan shape it so
814 That it departed were among us two,
815 Hadde I nat doon a freendes torn to thee?”
816 That oother answerde, “I noot hou that may be.
817 He woot that the gold is with us tweye;
818 What shal we doon? What shal we to hym seye?”
819 “Shal it be conseil?” seyde the firste shrewe,
820 ” And I shal tellen in a wordes fewe
821 What we shal doon, and brynge it wel aboute.”
822 “I graunte,” quod that oother, “out of doute,
823 That, by my trouthe, I wol thee nat biwreye.”
824 “Now,” quod the firste, “thou woost wel we be tweye,
825 And two of us shul strenger be than oon.
826 Looke whan that he is set, that right anoon
827 Arys as though thou woldest with hym pleye,
828 And I shal ryve hym thurgh the sydes tweye
829 Whil that thou strogelest with hym as in game,
830 And with thy daggere looke thou do the same;
831 And thanne shal al this gold departed be,
832 My deere freend, bitwixen me and thee.
833 Thanne may we bothe oure lustes all fulfille,
834 And pleye at dees right at oure owene wille.”
835 And thus acorded been thise shrewes tweye
836 To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me seye.
837 This yongeste, which that wente to the toun,
838 Ful ofte in herte he rolleth up and doun
839 The beautee of thise floryns newe and brighte.
840 “O Lord!” quod he, “if so were that I myghte
841 Have al this tresor to myself allone,
842 Ther is no man that lyveth under the trone
843 Of God that sholde lyve so murye as I!”
844 And atte laste the feend, oure enemy,
845 Putte in his thought that he sholde poyson beye,
846 With which he myghte sleen his felawes tweye;
847 For-why the feend foond hym in swich lyvynge
848 That he hadde leve him to sorwe brynge.
849 For this was outrely his fulle entente,
850 To sleen hem bothe and nevere to repente.
851 And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie,
852 Into the toun, unto a pothecarie,
853 And preyde hym that he hym wolde selle
854 Som poyson, that he myghte his rattes quelle;
855 And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe,
856 That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde yslawe,
857 And fayn he wolde wreke hym, if he myghte,
858 On vermyn that destroyed hym by nyghte.
859 The pothecarie answerde, ” And thou shalt have
860 A thyng that, also God my soule save,
861 In al this world ther is no creature
862 That eten or dronken hath of this confiture
863 Noght but the montance of a corn of whete,
864 That he ne shal his lif anon forlete;
865 Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lasse while
866 Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a mile,
867 This poysoun is so strong and violent.”
868 This cursed man hath in his hond yhent
869 This poysoun in a box, and sith he ran
870 Into the nexte strete unto a man,
871 And borwed [of] hym large botelles thre,
872 And in the two his poyson poured he;
873 The thridde he kepte clene for his drynke.
874 For al the nyght he shoop hym for to swynke
875 In cariynge of the gold out of that place.
876 And whan this riotour, with sory grace,
877 Hadde filled with wyn his grete botels thre,
878 To his felawes agayn repaireth he.
879 What nedeth it to sermone of it moore?
880 For right as they hadde cast his deeth bifoore,
881 Right so they han hym slayn, and that anon.
882 And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon:
883 “Now lat us sitte and drynke, and make us merie,
884 And afterward we wol his body berie.”
885 And with that word it happed hym, par cas,
886 To take the botel ther the poyson was,
887 And drank, and yaf his felawe drynke also,
888 For which anon they storven bothe two.
889 But certes, I suppose that Avycen
890 Wroot nevere in no canon, ne in no fen,
891 Mo wonder signes of empoisonyng
892 Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir endyng.
893 Thus ended been thise homycides two,
894 And eek the false empoysonere also.
895 O cursed synne of alle cursednesse!
896 O traytours homycide, O wikkednesse!
897 O glotonye, luxurie, and hasardrye!
898 Thou blasphemour of Crist with vileynye
899 And othes grete, of usage and of pride!
900 Allas, mankynde, how may it bitide
901 That to thy creatour, which that the wroghte
902 And with his precious herte-blood thee boghte,
903 Thou art so fals and so unkynde, allas?
904 Now, goode men, God foryeve yow youre trespas,
905 And ware yow fro the synne of avarice!
906 Myn hooly pardoun may yow alle warice,
907 So that ye offre nobles or sterlynges,
908 Or elles silver broches, spoones, rynges.
909 Boweth youre heed under this hooly bulle!
910 Cometh up, ye wyves, offreth of youre wolle!
911 Youre names I entre heer in my rolle anon;
912 Into the blisse of hevene shul ye gon.
913 I yow assoille, by myn heigh power,
914 Yow that wol offre, as clene and eek as cleer
915 As ye were born. — And lo, sires, thus I preche.
916 And Jhesu Crist, that is oure soules leche,
917 So graunte yow his pardoun to receyve,
918 For that is best; I wol yow nat deceyve.
919 But, sires, o word forgat I in my tale:
920 I have relikes and pardoun in my male,
921 As faire as any man in Engelond,
922 Whiche were me yeven by the popes hond.
923 If any of yow wole, of devocion,
924 Offren and han myn absolucion,
925 Com forth anon, and kneleth heere adoun,
926 And mekely receyveth my pardoun;
927 Or elles taketh pardoun as ye wende,
928 Al newe and fressh at every miles ende,
929 So that ye offren, alwey newe and newe,
930 Nobles or pens, whiche that be goode and trewe.
931 It is an honour to everich that is heer
932 That ye mowe have a suffisant pardoneer
933 T’ assoille yow in contree as ye ryde,
934 For aventures whiche that may bityde.
935 Paraventure ther may fallen oon or two
936 Doun of his hors and breke his nekke atwo.
937 Looke which a seuretee is it to yow alle
938 That I am in youre felaweshipe yfalle,
939 That may assoille yow, bothe moore and lasse,
940 Whan that the soule shal fro the body passe.
941 I rede that oure Hoost heere shal bigynne,
942 For he is moost envoluped in synne.
943 Com forth, sire Hoost, and offre first anon,
944 And thou shalt kisse the relikes everychon,
945 Ye, for a grote! Unbokele anon thy purs.”
946 “Nay, nay!” quod he, “thanne have I Cristes curs!
947 Lat be,” quod he, “it shal nat be, so theech!
948 Thou woldest make me kisse thyn olde breech,
949 And swere it were a relyk of a seint,
950 Though it were with thy fundement depeint!
951 But, by the croys which that Seint Eleyne fond,
952 I wolde I hadde thy coillons in myn hond
953 In stide of relikes or of seintuarie.
954 Lat kutte hem of, I wol thee helpe hem carie;
955 They shul be shryned in an hogges toord!”
956 This Pardoner answerde nat a word;
957 So wrooth he was, no word ne wolde he seye.
958 “Now,” quod oure Hoost, “I wol no lenger pleye
959 With thee, ne with noon oother angry man.”
960 But right anon the worthy Knyght bigan,
961 Whan that he saugh that al the peple lough,
962 “Namoore of this, for it is right ynough!
963 Sire Pardoner, be glad and myrie of cheere;
964 And ye, sire Hoost, that been to me so deere,
965 I prey yow that ye kisse the Pardoner.
966 And Pardoner, I prey thee, drawe thee neer,
967 And, as we diden, lat us laughe and pleye.”
968 Anon they kiste, and ryden forth hir weye.

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