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The Canterbury Tales and Other Works of Chaucer (Middle English), by Geoffery Chaucer, [14th cent.], at

The Canterbury Tales

The Pardoner's Introduction and Prologue

 Oure Hooste gan to swere as he were wood;
 "Harrow!" quod he, "by nayles and by blood!
 This was a fals cherl and a fals justise.
290 As shameful deeth as herte may devyse
 Come to thise juges and hire advocatz!
 Algate this sely mayde is slayn, allas!
 Allas, to deere boughte she beautee!
 Wherfore I seye al day that men may see
 That yiftes of Fortune and of Nature
 Been cause of deeth to many a creature.
 Hire beautee was hire deth, I dar wel sayn.
 Allas, so pitously as she was slayn!
 Of bothe yiftes that I speke of now
300 Men han ful ofte moore for harm than prow.
 But trewely, myn owene maister deere,
 This is a pitous tale for to heere.
 But nathelees, passe over; is no fors.
 I pray to God so save thy gentil cors,
 And eek thyne urynals and thy jurdones,
 Thyn ypocras, and eek thy galiones,
 And every boyste ful of thy letuarie;
 God blesse hem, and oure lady Seinte Marie!
 So moot I theen, thou art a propre man,
310 And lyk a prelat, by Seint Ronyan!
 Seyde I nat wel? I kan nat speke in terme;
 But wel I woot thou doost myn herte to erme,
 That I almoost have caught a cardynacle.
 By corpus bones! but I have triacle,
 Or elles a draughte of moyste and corny ale,
 Or but I heere anon a myrie tale,
 Myn herte is lost for pitee of this mayde.
 Thou beel amy, thou Pardoner," he sayde,
 "Telle us som myrthe or japes right anon."
320 "It shal be doon," quod he, "by Seint Ronyon!
 But first," quod he, "heere at this alestake
 I wol bothe drynke and eten of a cake."
 But right anon thise gentils gonne to crye,
 "Nay, lat hym telle us of no ribaudye!
 Telle us som moral thyng, that we may leere
 Som wit, and thanne wol we gladly heere."
 "I graunte, ywis," quod he, "but I moot thynke
 Upon som honest thyng while that I drynke."
 "Lordynges," quod he, "in chirches whan I preche,
330 I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche,
 And rynge it out as round as gooth a belle,
 For I kan al by rote that I telle.
 My theme is alwey oon, and evere was --
 Radix malorum est Cupiditas.
 "First I pronounce whennes that I come,
 And thanne my bulles shewe I, alle and some.
 Oure lige lordes seel on my patente,
 That shewe I first, my body to warente,
 That no man be so boold, ne preest ne clerk,
340 Me to destourbe of Cristes hooly werk.
 And after that thanne telle I forth my tales;
 Bulles of popes and of cardynales,
 Of patriarkes and bishopes I shewe,
 And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe,
 To saffron with my predicacioun,
 And for to stire hem to devocioun.
 Thanne shewe I forth my longe cristal stones,
 Ycrammed ful of cloutes and of bones --
 Relikes been they, as wenen they echoon.
350 Thanne have I in latoun a sholder-boon
 Which that was of an hooly Jewes sheep.
 `Goode men,' I seye, `taak of my wordes keep;
 If that this boon be wasshe in any welle,
 If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swelle
 That any worm hath ete, or worm ystonge,
 Taak water of that welle and wassh his tonge,
 And it is hool anon; and forthermoore,
 Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every soore
 Shal every sheep be hool that of this welle
360 Drynketh a draughte. Taak kep eek what I telle:
 If that the good-man that the beestes oweth
 Wol every wyke, er that the cok hym croweth,
 Fastynge, drynken of this welle a draughte,
 As thilke hooly Jew oure eldres taughte,
 His beestes and his stoor shal multiplie.
 `And, sires, also it heeleth jalousie;
 For though a man be falle in jalous rage,
 Lat maken with this water his potage,
 And nevere shal he moore his wyf mystriste,
370 Though he the soothe of hir defaute wiste,
 Al had she taken prestes two or thre.
 `Heere is a miteyn eek, that ye may se.
 He that his hand wol putte in this mitayn,
 He shal have multipliyng of his grayn,
 Whan he hath sowen, be it whete or otes,
 So that he offre pens, or elles grotes.
 `Goode men and wommen, o thyng warne I yow:
 If any wight be in this chirche now
 That hath doon synne horrible, that he
380 Dar nat, for shame, of it yshryven be,
 Or any womman, be she yong or old,
 That hath ymaked hir housbonde cokewold,
 Swich folk shal have no power ne no grace
 To offren to my relikes in this place.
 And whoso fyndeth hym out of swich blame,
 He wol come up and offre a Goddes name,
 And I assoille him by the auctoritee
 Which that by bulle ygraunted was to me.'
 "By this gaude have I wonne, yeer by yeer,
390 An hundred mark sith I was pardoner.
 I stonde lyk a clerk in my pulpet,
 And whan the lewed peple is doun yset,
 I preche so as ye han herd bifoore
 And telle an hundred false japes moore.
 Thanne peyne I me to strecche forth the nekke,
 And est and west upon the peple I bekke,
 As dooth a dowve sittynge on a berne.
 Myne handes and my tonge goon so yerne
 That it is joye to se my bisynesse.
400 Of avarice and of swich cursednesse
 Is al my prechyng, for to make hem free
 To yeven hir pens, and namely unto me.
 For myn entente is nat but for to wynne,
 And nothyng for correccioun of synne.
 I rekke nevere, whan that they been beryed,
 Though that hir soules goon a-blakeberyed!
 For certes, many a predicacioun
 Comth ofte tyme of yvel entencioun;
 Som for plesance of folk and flaterye,
410 To been avaunced by ypocrisye,
 And som for veyne glorie, and som for hate.
 For whan I dar noon oother weyes debate,
 Thanne wol I stynge hym with my tonge smerte
 In prechyng, so that he shal nat asterte
 To been defamed falsly, if that he
 Hath trespased to my bretheren or to me.
 For though I telle noght his propre name,
 Men shal wel knowe that it is the same,
 By signes, and by othere circumstances.
420 Thus quyte I folk that doon us displesances;
 Thus spitte I out my venym under hewe
 Of hoolynesse, to semen hooly and trewe.
 "But shortly myn entente I wol devyse:
 I preche of no thyng but for coveityse.
 Therfore my theme is yet, and evere was,
 Radix malorum est Cupiditas.
 Thus kan I preche agayn that same vice
 Which that I use, and that is avarice.
 But though myself be gilty in that synne,
430 Yet kan I maken oother folk to twynne
 From avarice and soore to repente.
 But that is nat my principal entente;
 I preche nothyng but for coveitise.
 Of this mateere it oghte ynogh suffise.
 "Thanne telle I hem ensamples many oon
 Of olde stories longe tyme agoon.
 For lewed peple loven tales olde;
 Swiche thynges kan they wel reporte and holde.
 What, trowe ye, that whiles I may preche,
440 And wynne gold and silver for I teche,
 That I wol lyve in poverte wilfully?
 Nay, nay, I thoghte it nevere, trewely!
 For I wol preche and begge in sondry landes;
 I wol nat do no labour with myne handes,
 Ne make baskettes and lyve therby,
 By cause I wol nat beggen ydelly.
 I wol noon of the apostles countrefete;
 I wol have moneie, wolle, chese, and whete,
 Al were it yeven of the povereste page,
450 Or of the povereste wydwe in a village,
 Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne.
 Nay, I wol drynke licour of the vyne
 And have a joly wenche in every toun.
 But herkneth, lordynges, in conclusioun:
 Youre likyng is that I shal telle a tale.
 Now have I dronke a draughte of corny ale,
 By God, I hope I shal yow telle a thyng
 That shal by reson been at youre likyng.
 For though myself be a ful vicious man,
460 A moral tale yet I yow telle kan,
 Which I am wont to preche for to wynne.
 Now hoold youre pees! My tale I wol bigynne."

Next: The Pardoner's Tale