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CANTERBURY TALES

THE PROLOGUE TO THE PARDONER'S TALE

by Geoffrey Chaucer

THE PROLOGUE TO THE PARDONER'S TALE

Radix malorum est Cupiditas:

Ad Thimotheum, sexto. -

"Masters," quoth he, "in churches, when I preach,

I am at pains that all shall hear my speech,

And ring it out as roundly as a bell,

For I know all by heart the thing I tell.

My theme is always one, and ever was:

'Radix malorum est cupiditas.'

"First I announce the place whence I have come,

And then I show my pardons, all and some.

Our liege-lord's seal on my patent perfect,

I show that first, my safety to protect,

And then no man's so bold, no priest nor clerk,

As to disturb me in Christ's holy work;

And after that my tales I marshal all.

Indulgences of pope and cardinal,

Of patriarch and bishop, these I do

Show, and in Latin speak some words, a few,

To spice therewith a bit my sermoning

And stir men to devotion, marvelling.

Then show I forth my hollow crystal-stones,

Which are crammed full of rags, aye, and of bones;

Relics are these, as they think, every one.

Then I've in latten box a shoulder bone

Which came out of a holy Hebrew's sheep.

'Good men,' say I, 'my words in memory keep;

If this bone shall be washed in any well,

Then if a cow, calf, sheep, or ox should swell

That's eaten snake, or been by serpent stung,

Take water of that well and wash its tongue,

And 'twill be well anon; and furthermore,

Of pox and scab and every other sore

Shall every sheep be healed that of this well

Drinks but one draught; take heed of what I tell.

And if the man that owns the beasts, I trow,

Shall every week, and that before cock-crow,

And before breakfast, drink thereof a draught,

As that Jew taught of yore in his priestcraft,

His beasts and all his store shall multiply.

And, good sirs, it's a cure for jealousy;

For though a man be fallen in jealous rage,

Let one make of this water his pottage

And nevermore shall he his wife mistrust,

Though he may know the truth of all her lust,

Even though she'd taken two priests, aye, or three.

"'Here is a mitten, too, that you may see.

Who puts his hand therein, I say again,

He shall have increased harvest of his grain,

After he's sown, be it of wheat or oats,

Just so he offers pence or offers groats.

"'Good men and women, one thing I warn you.

If any man be here in church right now

That's done a sin so horrible that he

Dare not, for shame, of that sin shriven be,

Or any woman, be she young or old,

That's made her husband into a cuckold,

Such folk shall have no power and no grace

To offer to my relics in this place.

But whoso finds himself without such blame,

He will come up and offer, in God's name,

And I'll absolve him by authority

That has, by bull, been granted unto me.'

"By this fraud have I won me, year by year,

A hundred marks, since I've been pardoner.

I stand up like a scholar in pulpit,

And when the ignorant people all do sit,

I preach, as you have heard me say before,

And tell a hundred false japes, less or more.

I am at pains, then, to stretch forth my neck,

And east and west upon the folk I beck,

As does a dove that's sitting on a barn.

With hands and swift tongue, then, do I so yarn

That it's a joy to see my busyness.

Of avarice and of all such wickedness

Is all my preaching, thus to make them free

With offered pence, the which pence come to me.

For my intent is only pence to win,

And not at all for punishment of sin.

When they are dead, for all I think thereon

Their souls may well black-berrying have gone!

For, certainly, there's many a sermon grows

Ofttimes from evil purpose, as one knows;

Some for folks' pleasure and for flattery,

To be advanced by all hypocrisy,

And some for vainglory, and some for hate.

For, when I dare not otherwise debate,

Then do I sharpen well my tongue and sting

The man in sermons, and upon him fling

My lying defamations, if but he

Has wronged my brethren or- much worse- wronged me.

For though I mention not his proper name,

Men know whom I refer to, all the same,

By signs I make and other circumstances.

Thus I pay those who do us displeasances.

Thus spit I out my venom under hue

Of holiness, to seem both good and true.

"But briefly my intention I'll express;

I preach no sermon, save for covetousness.

For at my theme is yet, and ever was,