Chapter 35

To his fellows again repaired he. What needeth it thereof to sermon* more? *talk, discourse For, right as they had cast* his death before, *plotted 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 cas* *by chance To take the bottle where the poison was, And drank, and gave his fellow drink also, For which anon they sterved* both the two. *died But certes I suppose that Avicen Wrote never in no canon, nor no fen, <28> More wondrous signes of empoisoning, Than had these wretches two ere their ending. Thus ended be these homicides 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,* *outrage, impiety And oathes great, of usage and of pride! Alas! mankinde, how may it betide, That to thy Creator, which that thee wrought, And with his precious hearte-blood thee bought, Thou art so false and so unkind,* alas! *unnatural Now, good men, God forgive you your trespass, And ware* you from the sin of avarice. *keep Mine holy pardon may you all warice,* *heal So that ye offer *nobles or sterlings,* *gold or silver coins* Or elles silver brooches, spoons, or rings. Bowe 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 assoil* by mine high powere, *absolve <29> You that will offer, as clean and eke as clear As ye were born. Lo, Sires, thus I preach; And Jesus Christ, that is our soules’ leech,* *healer So grante you his pardon to receive; For that is best, I will not deceive.

But, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale; I have relics and pardon in my mail, As fair as any man in Engleland, Which were me given by the Pope’s hand. If any of you will of devotion Offer, and have mine absolution, Come forth anon, and kneele here adown And meekely receive my pardoun. Or elles take pardon, as ye wend,* *go All new and fresh at every towne’s end, So that ye offer, always new and new, Nobles or pence which that be good and true. ’Tis an honour to evereach* that is here, *each one That ye have a suffisant* pardonere *suitable T’assoile* you in country as ye ride, *absolve For aventures which that may betide. Paraventure 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 bothe *more and lass,* *absolve When that the soul shall from the body pass. *great and small* I rede* that our Hoste shall begin, *advise 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 Christe’s curse! Let be,” quoth he, “it shall not be, *so the’ch.* *so may I thrive* Thou wouldest make me kiss thine olde breech, And swear it were a relic of a saint, Though it were with thy *fundament depaint’.* *stained by your bottom* But, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,* *found <30> I would I had thy coilons* in mine hand, *testicles Instead of relics, or of sanctuary. Let cut them off, I will thee help them carry; They shall be shrined in a hogge’s turd.” The Pardoner answered not one word; So wroth he was, no worde 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 lough*), *laughed “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,* *nearer And as we didde, let us laugh and play.” Anon they kiss’d, and rode forth their way.

Notes to the Pardoner’s Tale

1. The outline of this Tale is to be found in the “Cento Novelle Antiche,” but the original is now lost. As in the case of the Wife of Bath’s Tale, there is a long prologue, but in this case it has been treated as part of the Tale.

2. Hautein: loud, lofty; from French, “hautain.”

3. Radix malorum est cupiditas: “the love of money is the root of all evil” (1 Tim.vi. 10)

4.All had she taken priestes two or three: even if she had committed adultery with two or three priests.

5. Blackburied: The meaning of this is not very clear, but it is probably a periphrastic and picturesque way of indicating damnation.

6. Grisly: dreadful; fitted to “agrise” or horrify the listener.

7. Mr Wright says: “The common oaths in the Middle Ages were by the different parts of God’s body; and the popular preachers represented that profane swearers tore Christ’s body by their imprecations.” The idea was doubtless borrowed from the passage in Hebrews (vi. 6), where apostates are said to “crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put Him to an open shame.”

8. Tombesteres: female dancers or tumblers; from Anglo- Saxon, “tumban,” to dance.

9. “Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.” Eph. v.18.

10. The reference is probably to the diligent inquiries Herod made at the time of Christ’s birth. See Matt. ii. 4-8

11. A drunkard. “Perhaps,” says Tyrwhitt, “Chaucer refers to Epist. LXXXIII., ‘Extende in plures dies illum ebrii habitum; nunquid de furore dubitabis? nunc quoque non est minor sed brevior.’” (“Prolong the drunkard’s condition to several days; will you doubt his madness? Even as it is, the madness is no less; merely shorter.”)

12. Defended: forbidden; French, “defendu.” St Jerome, in his book against Jovinian, says that so long as Adam fasted, he was in Paradise; he ate, and he was thrust out.

13. “Meats for the belly, and the belly for meats; but God shall destroy both it and them.” 1 Cor. vi. 13.

14. “For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things.” Phil. iii. 18, 19.

15. Cod: bag; Anglo-Saxon, “codde;” hence peas-cod, pin-cod (pin-cushion), &c.

16. Compare with the lines which follow, the picture of the drunken messenger in the Man of Law’s Tale.

17. Lepe: A town near Cadiz, whence a stronger wine than the Gascon vintages afforded was imported to England. French wine was often adulterated with the cheaper and stronger Spanish.

18. Another reading is “Fleet Street.”

19. Attila was suffocated in the night by a haemorrhage, brought on by a debauch, when he was preparing a new invasion of Italy, in 453.

20. “It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink; lest they drink, and forget the law, and pervert the judgment of any of the afflicted.” Prov. xxxi. 4, 5.

21. Most manuscripts, evidently in error, have “Stilbon” and “Calidone” for Chilon and Lacedaemon. Chilon was one of the seven sages of Greece, and flourished about B.C. 590. According to Diogenes Laertius, he died, under the pressure of age and joy, in the arms of his son, who had just been crowned victor at the Olympic games.

22. “Swear not at all;” Christ’s words in Matt. v. 34.

23. “And thou shalt swear, the lord liveth in truth, in judgement, and in righteousness.” Jeremiah iv. 2

24. The nails that fastened Christ on the cross, which were regarded with superstitious reverence.

25. Hailes: An abbey in Gloucestershire, where, under the designation of “the blood of Hailes,” a portion of Christ’s blood was preserved.

26. Go bet: a hunting phrase; apparently its force is, “go beat up the game.”

27. Haw; farm-yard, hedge Compare the French, “haie.”

28. Avicen, or Avicenna, was among the distinguished physicians of the Arabian school in the eleventh century, and very popular in the Middle Ages. His great work was called “Canon Medicinae,” and was divided into “fens,” “fennes,” or sections.

29. Assoil: absolve. compare the Scotch law-term “assoilzie,” to acquit.

30. Saint Helen, according to Sir John Mandeville, found the cross of Christ deep below ground, under a rock, where the Jews had hidden it; and she tested the genuineness of the sacred tree, by raising to life a dead man laid upon it.

THE SHIPMAN’S TALE.<1>

THE PROLOGUE

Our Host upon his stirrups stood anon, And saide; “Good men, hearken every one, This was a thrifty* tale for the nones. *discreet, profitable Sir Parish Priest,” quoth he, “for Godde’s bones, Tell us a tale, as was thy *forword yore:* *promise formerly* I see well that ye learned men in lore Can* muche good, by Godde’s dignity.” *know The Parson him answer’d, “Ben’dicite! What ails the man, so sinfully to swear?” Our Host answer’d, “O Jankin, be ye there? Now, good men,” quoth our Host, “hearken to me. I smell a Lollard <2> in the wind,” quoth he. “Abide, for Godde’s digne* passion, *worthy For we shall have a predication: This Lollard here will preachen us somewhat.” “Nay, by my father’s soul, that shall he not, Saide the Shipman; “Here shall he not preach, He shall no gospel glose* here nor teach. *comment upon We all believe in the great God,” quoth he. “He woulde sowe some difficulty, Or springe cockle <3> in our cleane corn. And therefore, Host, I warne thee beforn, My jolly body shall a tale tell, And I shall clinke you so merry a bell, That I shall waken all this company; But it shall not be of philosophy, Nor of physic, nor termes quaint of law; There is but little Latin in my maw.”* *belly

Notes to the Prologue to the Shipman’s Tale

1. The Prologue here given was transferred by Tyrwhitt from the place, preceding the Squire’s Tale, which it had formerly occupied; the Shipman’s Tale having no Prologue in the best manuscripts.

2. Lollard: A contemptuous name for the followers of Wyckliffe; presumably derived from the Latin, “lolium,” tares, as if they were the tares among the Lord’s wheat; so, a few lines below, the Shipman intimates his fear lest the Parson should “spring cockle in our clean corn.”

3. Cockle: A weed, the “Agrostemma githago” of Linnaeus; perhaps named from the Anglo-Saxon, “ceocan,” because it chokes the corn. (Transcriber’s note: It is also possible Chaucer had in mind Matthew 13:25, where in some translations, an enemy sowed “cockle” amongst the wheat. (Other translations have “tares” and “darnel”.))

THE TALE. <1>

A Merchant whilom dwell’d at Saint Denise, That riche was, for which men held him wise. A wife he had of excellent beauty, And *companiable and revellous* was she, *fond of society and Which is a thing that causeth more dispence merry making* Than worth is all the cheer and reverence That men them do at feastes and at dances. Such salutations and countenances Passen, as doth the shadow on the wall; Put woe is him that paye must for all. The sely* husband algate** he must pay, *innocent **always He must us <2> clothe and he must us array All for his owen worship richely: In which array we dance jollily. And if that he may not, paraventure, Or elles list not such dispence endure, But thinketh it is wasted and y-lost, Then must another paye for our cost, Or lend us gold, and that is perilous.

This noble merchant held a noble house; For which he had all day so great repair,* *resort of visitors For his largesse, and for his wife was fair, That wonder is; but hearken to my tale. Amonges all these guestes great and smale, There was a monk, a fair man and a bold, I trow a thirty winter he was old, That ever-in-one* was drawing to that place. *constantly This younge monk, that was so fair of face, Acquainted was so with this goode man, Since that their firste knowledge began, That in his house as familiar was he As it is possible any friend to be. And, for as muchel as this goode man, And eke this monk of which that I began, Were both the two y-born in one village, The monk *him claimed, as for cousinage,* *claimed kindred And he again him said not once nay, with him* But was as glad thereof as fowl of day; “For to his heart it was a great pleasance. Thus be they knit with etern’ alliance, And each of them gan other to assure Of brotherhood while that their life may dure. Free was Dan <3> John, and namely* of dispence,** *especially **spending As in that house, and full of diligence To do pleasance, and also *great costage;* *liberal outlay* He not forgot to give the leaste page In all that house; but, after their degree, He gave the lord, and sithen* his meinie,** *afterwards **servants When that he came, some manner honest thing; For which they were as glad of his coming As fowl is fain when that the sun upriseth. No more of this as now, for it sufficeth.

But so befell, this merchant on a day Shope* him to make ready his array *resolved, arranged Toward the town of Bruges <4> for to fare, To buye there a portion of ware;* *merchandise For which he hath to Paris sent anon A messenger, and prayed hath Dan John That he should come to Saint Denis, and play* *enjoy himself With him, and with his wife, a day or tway, Ere he to Bruges went, in alle wise. This noble monk, of which I you devise,* *tell Had of his abbot, as him list, licence, (Because he was a man of high prudence, And eke an officer out for to ride, To see their granges and their barnes wide); <5> And unto Saint Denis he came anon. Who was so welcome as my lord Dan John, Our deare cousin, full of courtesy? With him he brought a jub* of malvesie, *jug And eke another full of fine vernage, <6> And volatile,* as aye was his usage: *wild-fowl And thus I let them eat, and drink, and play, This merchant and this monk, a day or tway. The thirde day the merchant up ariseth, And on his needeis sadly him adviseth; And up into his countour-house* went he, *counting-house <7> To reckon with himself as well may be, Of thilke* year, how that it with him stood, *that And how that he dispended bad his good, And if that he increased were or non. His bookes and his bagges many a one He laid before him on his counting-board. Full riche was his treasure and his hoard; For which full fast his countour door he shet; And eke he would that no man should him let* *hinder Of his accountes, for the meane time: And thus he sat, till it was passed prime.

Dan John was risen in the morn also, And in the garden walked to and fro, And had his thinges said full courteously. The good wife came walking full privily Into the garden, where he walked soft, And him saluted, as she had done oft; A maiden child came in her company, Which as her list she might govern and gie,* *guide For yet under the yarde* was the maid. *rod <8> “O deare cousin mine, Dan John,” she said, “What aileth you so rath* for to arise?” *early “Niece,” quoth he, “it ought enough suffice Five houres for to sleep upon a night;’ But* it were for an old appalled** wight, *unless **pallid, wasted As be these wedded men, that lie and dare,* *stare As in a forme sits a weary hare, Alle forstraught* with houndes great and smale; *distracted, confounded But, deare niece, why be ye so pale? I trowe certes that our goode man Hath you so laboured, since this night began, That you were need to reste hastily.” And with that word he laugh’d full merrily, And of his owen thought he wax’d all red. This faire wife gan for to shake her head, And saide thus; “Yea, God wot all” quoth she. “Nay, cousin mine, it stands not so with me; For by that God, that gave me soul and life, In all the realm of France is there no wife That lesse lust hath to that sorry play; For I may sing alas and well-away! That I was born; but to no wight,” quoth she, “Dare I not tell how that it stands with me. Wherefore I think out of this land to wend, Or elles of myself to make an end, So full am I of dread and eke of care.”

This monk began upon this wife to stare, And said, “Alas! my niece, God forbid That ye for any sorrow, or any dread, Fordo* yourself: but telle me your grief, *destroy Paraventure I may, in your mischief,* *distress Counsel or help; and therefore telle me All your annoy, for it shall be secre. For on my portos* here I make an oath, *breviary That never in my life, *for lief nor loth,* *willing or unwilling* Ne shall I of no counsel you bewray.” “The same again to you,” quoth she, “I say. By God and by this portos I you swear, Though men me woulden all in pieces tear, Ne shall I never, for* to go to hell, *though I should Bewray* one word of thing that ye me tell, *betray For no cousinage, nor alliance, But verily for love and affiance.”* *confidence, promise Thus be they sworn, and thereupon they kiss’d, And each of them told other what them list. “Cousin,” quoth she, “if that I hadde space, As I have none, and namely* in this place, *specially Then would I tell a legend of my life, What I have suffer’d since I was a wife With mine husband, all* be he your cousin. *although “Nay,” quoth this monk, “by God and Saint Martin, He is no more cousin unto me, Than is the leaf that hangeth on the tree; I call him so, by Saint Denis of France, To have the more cause of acquaintance Of you, which I have loved specially Aboven alle women sickerly,* *surely This swear I you *on my professioun;* *by my vows of religion Tell me your grief, lest that he come adown, And hasten you, and go away anon.”

“My deare love,” quoth she, “O my Dan John, Full lief* were me this counsel for to hide, *pleasant But out it must, I may no more abide. My husband is to me the worste man That ever was since that the world began; But since I am a wife, it sits* not me *becomes To telle no wight of our privity, Neither in bed, nor in none other place; God shield* I shoulde tell it for his grace; *forbid A wife shall not say of her husband But all honour, as I can understand; Save unto you thus much I telle shall; As help me God, he is nought worth at all In no degree, the value of a fly. But yet me grieveth most his niggardy.* *stinginess And well ye wot, that women naturally Desire thinges six, as well as I. They woulde that their husbands shoulde be Hardy,* and wise, and rich, and thereto free, *brave And buxom* to his wife, and fresh in bed. *yielding, obedient But, by that ilke* Lord that for us bled, *same For his honour myself for to array, On Sunday next I muste needes pay A hundred francs, or elles am I lorn.* *ruined, undone Yet *were me lever* that I were unborn, *I would rather* Than me were done slander or villainy. And if mine husband eke might it espy, I were but lost; and therefore I you pray, Lend me this sum, or elles must I dey.* *die Dan John, I say, lend me these hundred francs; Pardie, I will not faile you, *my thanks,* *if I can help it* If that you list to do that I you pray; For at a certain day I will you pay, And do to you what pleasance and service That I may do, right as you list devise. And but* I do, God take on me vengeance, *unless As foul as e’er had Ganilion <9> of France.”

This gentle monk answer’d in this mannere; “Now truely, mine owen lady dear, I have,” quoth he, “on you so greate ruth,* *pity That I you swear, and plighte you my truth, That when your husband is to Flanders fare,* *gone I will deliver you out of this care, For I will bringe you a hundred francs.” And with that word he caught her by the flanks, And her embraced hard, and kissed her oft. “Go now your way,” quoth he, “all still and soft, And let us dine as soon as that ye may, For by my cylinder* ’tis prime of day; *portable sundial Go now, and be as true as I shall be .” “Now elles God forbidde, Sir,” quoth she; And forth she went, as jolly as a pie, And bade the cookes that they should them hie,* *make haste So that men mighte dine, and that anon. Up to her husband is this wife gone, And knocked at his contour boldely. *“Qui est la?”* quoth he. “Peter! it am I,” *who is there?* Quoth she; “What, Sir, how longe all will ye fast? How longe time will ye reckon and cast Your summes, and your bookes, and your things? The devil have part of all such reckonings! Ye have enough, pardie, of Godde’s sond.* *sending, gifts Come down to-day, and let your bagges stond.* *stand Ne be ye not ashamed, that Dan John Shall fasting all this day elenge* gon? *see note <10> What? let us hear a mass, and go we dine.” “Wife,” quoth this man, “little canst thou divine The curious businesse that we have; For of us chapmen,* all so God me save, *merchants And by that lord that cleped is Saint Ive, Scarcely amonges twenty, ten shall thrive Continually, lasting unto our age. We may well make cheer and good visage, And drive forth the world as it may be, And keepen our estate in privity, Till we be dead, or elles that we play A pilgrimage, or go out of the way. And therefore have I great necessity Upon this quaint* world to advise** me. *strange **consider For evermore must we stand in dread Of hap and fortune in our chapmanhead.* *trading To Flanders will I go to-morrow at day, And come again as soon as e’er I may: For which, my deare wife, I thee beseek *beseech As be to every wight buxom* and meek, *civil, courteous And for to keep our good be curious, And honestly governe well our house. Thou hast enough, in every manner wise, That to a thrifty household may suffice. Thee lacketh none array, nor no vitail; Of silver in thy purse thou shalt not fail.”