180

But ydel swering is a cursednesse.
Bihold and see, that in the firste table 4
Of heighe Goddes hestes houurable,
How that the seconde heste of him is this
'Tak nat my name in ydel or amis.'
Lo, rather 5 he forbedeth swich swering
Than homicyde or many a cursed thing;
I seye that, as by ordre, thus it stondeth;
This knowen, that his hestes understond-
eth,

How that the second heste of God is that.
And forther over, I wol thee telle al plat,
That vengeance shal nat parten from his
hous,

That of his othes is to outrageous. 'By Goddes precious herte, and by his nayles,

And by the blode of Crist, that it is in Hayles,7

190

Seven is my chaunce, and thyn is cink and treye;8

By Goddes armes, if thou falsly pleye,

1 John of Salisbury's Policraticus, after the place last cited.

2 Matthew, v. 34.

3 Jeremiah, iv, 2.

4 The commandments were divided into two tables, the first laying down man's duty toward God, the second his duty toward his fellows. The first two commandments were grouped as one, and so our third was the second- as in 1. 179.

5 He forbids it sooner, i.e. earlier among the commandments.

• And furthermore I say flatly.

7 At Ashridge in Gloucestershire. This precious blood in a phial was visible only to the truly penitent. 8 five and three. These are technical expressions in the game of "hazard.”

THISE ryotoures three, of whiche I telle, Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle, 200 Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke; And as they satte, they herde a belle cliuke Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave; That oon of hem gan callen to his knave, 'Go bet,' 10 quod he, and axe redily, What cors is this that passeth heer forby; And look that thou reporte his name wel.’ 'Sir,' quod this boy, 'it nedeth nevera-del.

It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres;
He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres; 210
And sodeynly he was y-slayn to-night,
For-dronke,11 as he sat on his bench upright;
Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth
Deeth,

That in this contree al the peple sleeth, And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two,

220

And wente his wey with-outen wordes mo.
He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence:
And, maister, er ye come in his presence,
Me thinketh that it were necessarie
For to be war of swich an adversarie:
Beth redy for to mete him evermore.
Thus taughte me my dame, I sey na-more.'
By seinte Marie,' seyde this taverner,
"The child seith sooth, for he hath slayn
this yeer,

Henne over a myle, with-in a greet village, Both man and womman, child and hyne, and page.

I trowe his habitacioun be there;
To been avysed greet wisdom it were,
Er that he dide a man a dishonour.'
'Ye, Goddes armes!' quod this ryotour, 230
Is it swich peril with him for to mete?
I shal him seke by wey and eek by strete,
I make avow to Goddes digne bones!
Herkneth, felawes, we three been al ones;
Lat ech of us holde up his hond til other,
And ech of us bicomen otheres brother,

An uncertain word meaning picked, endented; or accursed; or knuckle (bones).

10 quickly, literally "better." 11 Dead drunk.

An old man and a povre with hem mette. This olde man ful mekely hem grette,1 And seyde thus, 'Now, lordes, God yow see! '2

The proudest of thise ryotoures three Answerde agayn, 'What? carl, with sory grace,

4

Why artow al forwrapped save thy face? Why livestow so longe in so greet age?'

This olde man gan loke in his visage, And seyde thus, 'For I ne can nat finde A man, though that I walked in-to Inde, 260 Neither in citee nor in no village,

That wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age;

And therfore moot I han myn age stille, As longe time as it is Goddes wille.

Ne deeth, allas! ne wol nat han my lyf; Thus walke I, lyk a restelees caityf, And on the ground, which is my modres

aspye,

10

Tel wher he is, or thou shalt it abye,11
By God, and by the holy sacrament!
For soothly thou art oon of his assent,
To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef!'
'Now, sirs,' quod he, 'if that yow be so
leef

To finde Deeth, turne up this croked wey,
For in that grove I lafte him, by my fey,
Under a tree and ther he wol abyde;
Nat for your boost he wol him no-thing
hyde.

301

See ye that ook? Right ther ye shul him finde,

God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde, And yow amende!'. - thus seyde this olde

man.

And everich of thise ryotoures ran,
Til he cam to that tree, and ther they

founde

Of florins fyne of golde y-coyned rounde Wel ny an eighte busshels, as hem thoughte. No lenger thanne after Deeth they soughte, But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte, For that the florins been so faire and brighte,

312

That doun they sette hem by this precious hord.

The worste of hem he spake the firste word. 'Brethren,' quod he, 'tak kepe what I

seye;

My wit is greet, though that I bourde 12 and pleye.

7 When you meet. • walk.

10 spy.

And bad hem drawe, and loke wher it wol falle;

And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle; And forth toward the toun he wente anon. And also sone as that he was gon,

That oon of hem spak thus un-to that other, 'Thou knowest wel thou art my sworne brother,

Thy profit wol I telle thee anon.

351

Thou woost wel that our felawe is agon;
And heer is gold, and that ful greet plentee,
That shal departed been among us three.
But natheles, if I can shape it so
That it departed were among us two,
Hadde I nat doon a freendes torn to thee?'
That other answerde, 'I noot how that
may be;

He woot how that the gold is with us tweye;

What shal we doon, what shal we to him seye?'

'Shal it be conseil ?'4 seyde the firste shrewe,5

And thus acorded been thise shrewes tweye To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me seye.

This yongest, which that wente un-to the toun,

Ful ofte in herte he rolleth up and doun The beautee of thise florins newe and brighte.

"O lord! quod he, if so were that I mighte

Have al this tresor to my-self allone,

Ther is no man that liveth under the trone
Of God, that sholde live so mery as I!' 381
And atte laste the feend, our enemy,
Putte in his thought that he shold poyson
beye,

With which he mighte sleen his felawes

tweye; For-why the feend fond him in swich

lyvinge,

That he had leve him to sorwe bringe,
For this was outrely his fulle entente
To sleen hem bothe, and never to repente.
And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie,
Into the toun, un-to a pothecarie,

390

And preyed him, that he him wolde selle Som poyson, that he mighte his rattes quelle ; 6

And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe,7 That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde y-slawe,

6 kill. 7 yard, hen-yard, literally "hedge."

Ye, sterve2 he shal, and that in lasse whyle Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a myle;

This poyson is so strong and violent.'

410

This cursed man hath in his hond y-hent This poyson in a box, and sith he ran In-to the nexte strete, un-to a man, And borwed of him large botels three; And in the two his poyson poured he; The thridde he kepte clene for his drinke. For al the night he shoop him for to swinke In caryinge of the gold out of that place. And whan this ryotour, with sory grace, Had filled with wyn his grete botels three, To his felawes agayn repaireth he.

What nedeth it to sermone of it more? For right as they had cast his deeth bifore, Right so they han him slayn, and that anon. And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon,

420

'Now lat us sitte and drinke, and make us merie,

And afterward we wol his body berie.'
And with that word it happed him, par cas,
To take the botel ther the poyson was,
And drank, and yaf his felawe drinke also,
For which anon they storven bothe two.
But, certes, I suppose that Avicen
Wroot never in no canon, ne in no fen,
Mo wonder signes of empoisoning
Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir end-
ing.

7

Thus ended been thise homicydes two, And eek the false empoysoner also.

O cursed sinne, ful of cursednesse! O traytours homicyde, o wikkednesse ! O glotonye, luxurie, and hasardrye! Thou blasphemour of Crist with vileinye And othes grete, of usage and of pryde! Allas! mankinde, how may it bityde,

430

As ye were born; and, lo, sirs, thus I preche.
And Jesu Crist, that is our soules leche,
So graunte yow his pardon to receyve;
For that is best; I wol yow nat deceyve.

461

But sirs, o word forgat I in my tale, I have relikes and pardon in my male, As faire as any man in Eugelond, Whiche were me yeven by the popes hond. If any of yow wol, of devocioun, Offren, and han myn absolucioun, Cometh forth anon, and kneleth heer adoun, And mekely receyveth my pardoun: Or elles, taketh pardon as ye wende, Al newe and fresh, at every tounes ende, So that ye offren alwey newe and newe Nobles and pens, which that be gode and

Whan that the soule shal fro the body passe.
I rede that our hoste heer shal biginne,
For he is most envoluped in sinne.
Com forth, sir hoste, and offre first anon,
And thou shalt kisse the reliks everichon,
Ye, for a grote ! unbokel anon thy purs.
'Nay, nay,' quod he, 'than have I Cristes

Lat be,' quod he,' it shal nat be, so thee'ch! 1 Thou woldest make me kisse thyn old breech,2

And swere it were a relik of a seint.' 8

Here is ended the Pardoners Tale.

THE TALE OF THE WYF OF BATHE

Here biginneth the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe IN th'olde dayes of the king Arthour, Of which that Britons speken greet honour, Al was this land fulfild of fayerye. The elf-queen, with hir joly companye, Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede; This was the olde opinion, as I rede. I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see none elves mo. For now the grete charitee and prayeres Of limitours and othere holy freres, That serchen every lond and every streem, As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem, Blessinge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,

ΤΟ

19

That dampned was this knight for to be deed

By cours of lawe, and sholde han lost his heed

Paraventure, swich was the statut tho;
But that the quene and othere ladies mo
So longe preyeden the king of grace,
Til he his lyf bim graunted in the place, 40
And yaf him to the queue al at hir wille,
To chese, whether she wolde him save or
spille. 10

The quene thanketh the king with al hir might,

And after this thus spak she to the knight, Whan that she saugh hir tyme, up-on a day:

'Thou standest yet,' quod she, 'in swich array

That of thy lyf yet hastow no suretee.
I grante thee lyf, if thou canst tellen me
What thing is it that wommen mot de-
syren.

Be war, and keep thy nekke-boon from yren.

50

And if thou canst nat tellen it anon,
Yet wol I yeve thee leve for to gon
A twelf-month and a day, to seche and
lere

An answere suffisant in this matere.
And suretee wol I han, er that thou pace,
Thy body for to yelden in this place.'

Wo was this knight and sorwefully he syketh;

But what! he may nat do al as him lyketh. And at the laste, he chees him for to