The Pardoner’s Tale Free Essays

string(163) " young rioters began To run, and reached the tree, and there they found A pile of golden florins on the ground, New-coined, eight bushels of them as they thought\." In Flanders once there was a company Of youngsters haunting vice and ribaldry, Riot and gambling, stews and public-houses Where each with harp, guitar, or lute carouses, Dancing and dicing day and night, and bold To eat and drink far more than they can hold, Doing thereby the devil sacrifice Within that devil’s temple of cursed vice, Abominable in superfluity, With oaths so damnable in blasphemy That it’s a grisly thing to hear them swear. Our dear Lord’s body they will rend and tear. . We will write a custom essay sample on The Pardoner’s Tale or any similar topic only for you Order Now . . It’s of three rioters I have to tell Who, long before the morning service bell, Were sitting in a tavern for a drink. And as they sat, they heard the hand-bell clink Before a coffin going to the grave; One of them called the little tavern-knave And said â€Å"Go and find out at once—look spry! — Whose corpse is in that coffin passing by; And see you get the name correctly too. † â€Å"Sir,† said the boy, â€Å"no need, I promise you; Two hours before you came here I was told. He was a friend of yours in days of old, And suddenly, last night, the man was slain, Upon his bench, face up, dead drunk again. There came a privy thief, they call him Death, Who kills us all round here, and in a breath He speared him through the heart, he never stirred. And then Death went his way without a word. He’s killed a thousand in the present plague, And, sir, it doesn’t do to be too vague If you should meet him; you had best be wary. Be on your guard with such an adversary, Be primed to meet him everywhere you go, That’s what my mother said. It’s all I know. † The publican joined in with, â€Å"By St. Mary, What the child says is right; you’d best be wary, This very year he killed, in a large village A mile away, man, woman, serf at tillage, Page in the household, children—all there were. Yes, I imagine that he lives round there. It’s well to be prepared in these alarms, He might do you dishonor. † â€Å"Huh, God’s arms! † The rioter said, â€Å"Is he so fierce to meet? I’ll search for him, by Jesus, street by street. God’s blessed bones! I’ll register a vow! Here, chaps! The three of us together now, Hold up your hands, like me, and we’ll be brothers In this affair, and each defend the others, And we will kill this traitor Death, I say! Away with him as he has made away With all our friends. God’s dignity! Tonight! † They made their bargain, swore with appetite, These three, to live and die for one another As brother-born might swear to his born brother. And up they started in their drunken rage And made towards this village which the page And publican had spoken of before. Many and grisly were the oaths they swore, Tearing Christ’s blessed body to a shred; â€Å"If we can only catch him, Death is dead! † When they had gone not fully half a mile, Just as they were about to cross a stile, They came upon a very poor old man Who humbly greeted them and thus began, â€Å"God look to you, my lords, and give you quiet! † To which the proudest of these men of riot Gave back the answer, â€Å"What, old fool? Give place! Why are you all wrapped up except your face? Why live so long? Isn’t it time to die? † The old, old fellow looked him in the eye And said, â€Å"Because I never yet have found, Though I have walked to India, searching round Village and city on my pilgrimage, One who would change his youth to have my age. And so my age is mine and must be still Upon me, for such time as God may will. â€Å"Not even Death, alas, will take my life; So, like a wretched prisoner at strife Within himself, I walk alone and wait About the earth, which is my mother’s gate, Knock-knocking with my staff from night to noon And crying, ‘Mother, open to me soon! Look at me, mother, won’t you let me in? See how I wither, flesh and blood and skin! Alas! When will these bones be laid to rest? Mother, I would exchange—for that were best— The wardrobe in my chamber, standing there So long, for yours! Aye, for a shirt of hair To wrap me in! ’ She has refused her grace, Whence comes the pallor of my withered face. â€Å"But it dishonored you when you began To speak so roughly, sir, to an old man, Unless he had injured you in word or deed. It says in holy writ, as you may read, ‘Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head And honor it. ’ And therefore be it said, ‘Do no more harm to an old man than you, Being now young, would have another do When you are old’—if you should live till then. And so may God be with you, gentlemen, For I must go whither I have to go. † â€Å"By God,† the gambler said, â€Å"you shan’t do so, You don’t get off so easy, by St. John! I heard you mention, just a moment gone, A certain traitor Death who singles out And kills the fine young fellows hereabout. And you’re his spy, by God! You wait a bit. Say where he is or you shall pay for it, By God and by the Holy Sacrament! I say you’ve joined together by consent To kill us younger folk, you thieving swine! † â€Å"Well, sirs,† he said, â€Å"if it be your design To find out Death, turn up this crooked way Towards that grove, I left him there today Under a tree, and there you’ll find him waiting. He isn’t one to hide for all your prating. You see that oak? He won’t be far to find. And God protect you that redeemed mankind, Aye, and amend you! † Thus that ancient man. At once the three young rioters began To run, and reached the tree, and there they found A pile of golden florins on the ground, New-coined, eight bushels of them as they thought. You read "The Pardoner’s Tale" in category "Papers" No longer was it Death those fellows sought, For they were all so thrilled to see the sight, The florins were so beautiful and bright, That down they sat beside the precious pile. The wickedest spoke first after a while. â€Å"Brothers,† he said, â€Å"you listen to what I say. I’m pretty sharp although I joke away. It’s clear that Fortune has bestowed this treasure To let us live in jollity and pleasure. Light come, light go! We’ll spend it as we ought. God’s precious dignity! Who would have thought This morning was to be our lucky day? â€Å"If one could only get the gold away, Back to my house, or else to yours, perhaps— For as you know, the gold is ours, chaps— We’d all be at the top of fortune, hey? But certainly it can’t be done by day. People would call us robbers—a strong gang, So our own property would make us hang. No, we must bring this treasure back by night Some prudent way, and keep it out of sight. And so as a solution I propose We draw for lots and see the way it goes; The one who draws the longest, lucky man, Shall run to town as quickly as he can To fetch us bread and wine—but keep things dark— While two remain in hiding here to mark Our heap of treasure. If there’s no delay, When night comes down we’ll carry it away, All three of us, wherever we have planned. † He gathered lots and hid them in his hand Bidding them draw for where the luck should fall. It fell upon the youngest of them all, And off he ran at once towards the town. As soon as he had gone the first sat down And thus began a parley with the other: â€Å"You know that you can trust me as a brother; Now let me tell you where your profit lies; You know our friend has gone to get supplies And here’s a lot of gold that is to be Divided equally among us three. Nevertheless, if I could shape things thus So that we shared it out—the two of us— Wouldn’t you take it as a friendly act? † â€Å"But how? † the other said. â€Å"He knows the fact That all the gold was left with me and you; What can we tell him? What are we to do? † â€Å"Is it a bargain,† said the first, â€Å"or no? For I can tell you in a word or so What’s to be done to bring the thing about. â€Å"Trust me,† the other said, â€Å"you needn’t doubt My word. I won’t betray you, I’ll be true. † â€Å"Well,† said his friend, â€Å"you see that we are two, And two are twice as powerful as one. Now look; when he comes back, get up i n fun To have a wrestle; then, as you attack, I’ll up and put my dagger through his back While you and he are struggling, as in game; Then draw your dagger too and do the same. Then all this money will be ours to spend, Divided equally of course, dear friend. Then we can gratify our lusts and fill The day with dicing at our own sweet will. † Thus these two miscreants agreed to slay The third and youngest, as you heard me say. The youngest, as he ran towards the town, Kept turning over, rolling up and down Within his heart the beauty of those bright New florins, saying, â€Å"Lord, to think I might Have all that treasure to myself alone! Could there be anyone beneath the throne Of God so happy as I then should be? † And so the Fiend, our common enemy, Was given power to put it in his thought That there was always poison to be bought, And that with poison he could kill his friends. To men in such a state the Devil sends Thoughts of this kind, and has a full permission To lure them on to sorrow and perdition; For this young man was utterly content To kill them both and never to repent. And on he ran, he had no thought to tarry, Came to the town, found an apothecary And said, â€Å"Sell me some poison if you will, I have a lot of rats I want to kill And there’s a polecat too about my yard That takes my chickens and it hits me hard; But I’ll get even, as is only right, With vermin that destroy a man by night. † The chemist answered, â€Å"I’ve a preparation Which you shall have, and by my soul’s salvation If any living creature eat or drink A mouthful, ere he has the time to think, Though he took less than makes a grain of wheat, You’ll see him fall down dying at your feet; Yes, die he must, and in so short a while You’d hardly have the time to walk a mile, The poison is so strong, you understand. † This cursed fellow grabbed into his hand The box of poison and away he ran Into a neighboring street, and found a man Who lent him three large bottles. He withdrew And deftly poured the poison into two. He kept the third one clean, as well he might, For his own drink, meaning to work all night Stacking the gold and carrying it away. And when this rioter, this devil’s clay, Had filled his bottles up with wine, all three, Back to rejoin his comrades sauntered he. Why make a sermon of it? Why waste breath? Exactly in the way they’d planned his death They fell on him and slew him, two to one. Then said the first of them when this was done, â€Å"Now for a drink. Sit down and let’s be merry, For later on there’ll be the corpse to bury. † And, as it happened, reaching for a sup, He took a bottle full of poison up And drank; and his companion, nothing loth, Drank from it also, and they perished both. There is, in Avicenna’s long relation Concerning poison and its operation, Trust me, no ghastlier section to transcend What these two wretches suffered at their end. Thus these two murderers received their due, So did the treacherous young poisoner too. . . . â€Å"One thing I should have mentioned in my tale, Dear people. I’ve some relics in my bale And pardons too, as full and fine, I hope, As any in England, given me by the Pope. If there be one among you that is willing To have my absolution for a shilling Devoutly given, come! and do not harden Your hearts but kneel in humbleness for pardon; Or else, receive my pardon as we go. You can renew it every town or so Always provided that you still renew Each time, and in good money, what is due. It is an honor to you to have found A pardoner with his credentials sound Who can absolve you as you ply the spur In any accident that may occur. For instance—we are all at Fortune’s beck— Your horse may throw you down and break your neck. What a security it is to all To have me here among you and at call With pardon for the lowly and the great When soul leaves body for the future state! And I advise our Host here to begin, The most enveloped of you all in sin. Come forward, Host, you shall be the first to pay, And kiss my holy relics right away. Only a groat. Come on, unbuckle your purse! † â€Å"No, no,† said he, â€Å"not I, and may the curse Of Christ descend upon me if I do! . . .† The Pardoner said nothing, not a word; He was so angry that he couldn’t speak. â€Å"Well,† said our Host, â€Å"if you’re for showing pique,   I’ll joke no more, not with an angry man. † The worthy Knight immediately began, Seeing the fun was getting rather rough, And said, â€Å"No more, we’ve all had quite enough. Now, Master Pardoner, perk up, look cheerly! And you, Sir Host, whom I esteem so dearly, I beg of you to kiss the Pardoner. â€Å"Come, Pardoner, draw nearer, my dear sir. Let’s laugh again and keep the ball in play. † They kissed, and we continued on our way. s How to cite The Pardoner’s Tale, Papers