No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: Prologue to the Pardoner’s Tale Page 1

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Original Text	Modern Text
HERE FOLWETH THE PROLOGE OF THE PARDONERS TALE.	HERE FOLWETH THE PROLOGE OF THE PARDONERS TALE.
‘Lordings,’ quod he, ‘in chirches whan I preche, I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche, And ringe it out as round as gooth a belle, For I can al by rote that I telle. My theme is alwey oon, and ever was— “Radix malorum est Cupiditas.”	‘Lordings,’ quod he, ‘in chirches whan I preche, I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche, And ringe it out as round as gooth a belle, For I can al by rote that I telle. My theme is alwey oon, and ever was— “Radix malorum est Cupiditas.”
First I pronounce whennes that I come, And than my bulles shewe I, alle and somme. Our lige lordes seel on my patente, That shewe I first, my body to warente, That no man be so bold, ne preest ne clerk, Me to destourbe of Cristes holy werk; And after that than telle I forth my tales, Bulles of popes and of cardinales, Of patriarkes, and bishoppes I shewe; And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe, To saffron with my predicacioun, And for to stire men to devocioun. Than shewe I forth my longe cristal stones, Y-crammed ful of cloutes and of bones; Reliks been they, as wenen they echoon. Than have I in latoun a sholder-boon Which that was of an holy Iewes shepe. “Good men,” seye I, “tak of my wordes kepe; 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 y-stonge, Tak water of that welle, and wash his tonge, And it is hool anon; and forthermore, Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every sore Shal every sheep be hool, that of this welle Drinketh a draughte; tak kepe eek what I telle. If that the good-man, that the bestes oweth, Wol every wike, er that the cok him croweth, Fastinge, drinken of this welle a draughte, As thilke holy Iewe our eldres taughte, His bestes and his stoor shal multiplye. And, sirs, also it heleth Ialousye; For, though a man be falle in Ialous rage, Let maken with this water his potage, And never shal he more his wyf mistriste, Though he the sooth of hir defaute wiste; Al had she taken preestes two or three.	First I pronounce whennes that I come, And than my bulles shewe I, alle and somme. Our lige lordes seel on my patente, That shewe I first, my body to warente, That no man be so bold, ne preest ne clerk, Me to destourbe of Cristes holy werk; And after that than telle I forth my tales, Bulles of popes and of cardinales, Of patriarkes, and bishoppes I shewe; And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe, To saffron with my predicacioun, And for to stire men to devocioun. Than shewe I forth my longe cristal stones, Y-crammed ful of cloutes and of bones; Reliks been they, as wenen they echoon. Than have I in latoun a sholder-boon Which that was of an holy Iewes shepe. “Good men,” seye I, “tak of my wordes kepe; 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 y-stonge, Tak water of that welle, and wash his tonge, And it is hool anon; and forthermore, Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every sore Shal every sheep be hool, that of this welle Drinketh a draughte; tak kepe eek what I telle. If that the good-man, that the bestes oweth, Wol every wike, er that the cok him croweth, Fastinge, drinken of this welle a draughte, As thilke holy Iewe our eldres taughte, His bestes and his stoor shal multiplye. And, sirs, also it heleth Ialousye; For, though a man be falle in Ialous rage, Let maken with this water his potage, And never shal he more his wyf mistriste, Though he the sooth of hir defaute wiste; Al had she taken preestes two or three.

Original Text	Modern Text
HERE FOLWETH THE PROLOGE OF THE PARDONERS TALE.	HERE FOLWETH THE PROLOGE OF THE PARDONERS TALE.
‘Lordings,’ quod he, ‘in chirches whan I preche, I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche, And ringe it out as round as gooth a belle, For I can al by rote that I telle. My theme is alwey oon, and ever was— “Radix malorum est Cupiditas.”	‘Lordings,’ quod he, ‘in chirches whan I preche, I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche, And ringe it out as round as gooth a belle, For I can al by rote that I telle. My theme is alwey oon, and ever was— “Radix malorum est Cupiditas.”
First I pronounce whennes that I come, And than my bulles shewe I, alle and somme. Our lige lordes seel on my patente, That shewe I first, my body to warente, That no man be so bold, ne preest ne clerk, Me to destourbe of Cristes holy werk; And after that than telle I forth my tales, Bulles of popes and of cardinales, Of patriarkes, and bishoppes I shewe; And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe, To saffron with my predicacioun, And for to stire men to devocioun. Than shewe I forth my longe cristal stones, Y-crammed ful of cloutes and of bones; Reliks been they, as wenen they echoon. Than have I in latoun a sholder-boon Which that was of an holy Iewes shepe. “Good men,” seye I, “tak of my wordes kepe; 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 y-stonge, Tak water of that welle, and wash his tonge, And it is hool anon; and forthermore, Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every sore Shal every sheep be hool, that of this welle Drinketh a draughte; tak kepe eek what I telle. If that the good-man, that the bestes oweth, Wol every wike, er that the cok him croweth, Fastinge, drinken of this welle a draughte, As thilke holy Iewe our eldres taughte, His bestes and his stoor shal multiplye. And, sirs, also it heleth Ialousye; For, though a man be falle in Ialous rage, Let maken with this water his potage, And never shal he more his wyf mistriste, Though he the sooth of hir defaute wiste; Al had she taken preestes two or three.	First I pronounce whennes that I come, And than my bulles shewe I, alle and somme. Our lige lordes seel on my patente, That shewe I first, my body to warente, That no man be so bold, ne preest ne clerk, Me to destourbe of Cristes holy werk; And after that than telle I forth my tales, Bulles of popes and of cardinales, Of patriarkes, and bishoppes I shewe; And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe, To saffron with my predicacioun, And for to stire men to devocioun. Than shewe I forth my longe cristal stones, Y-crammed ful of cloutes and of bones; Reliks been they, as wenen they echoon. Than have I in latoun a sholder-boon Which that was of an holy Iewes shepe. “Good men,” seye I, “tak of my wordes kepe; 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 y-stonge, Tak water of that welle, and wash his tonge, And it is hool anon; and forthermore, Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every sore Shal every sheep be hool, that of this welle Drinketh a draughte; tak kepe eek what I telle. If that the good-man, that the bestes oweth, Wol every wike, er that the cok him croweth, Fastinge, drinken of this welle a draughte, As thilke holy Iewe our eldres taughte, His bestes and his stoor shal multiplye. And, sirs, also it heleth Ialousye; For, though a man be falle in Ialous rage, Let maken with this water his potage, And never shal he more his wyf mistriste, Though he the sooth of hir defaute wiste; Al had she taken preestes two or three.