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He goes on to relate how he stands like a clergy at the pulpit, and preaches against avarice but to gain the congregation's money he doesn't care for the correction of sin or for their souls. The Pardoner says to the pilgrims that by these tricks he has acquired a considerable sum of money of £100 a year. He that his hand wol putte in this mitayn, He shal have multipliyng of his greyn, (lines 373–374)īut he will warn that any person that "hath doon synne horrible" will not be able to benefit from these relics. He explains that his false credentials consist of official letters from high-ranking church officials and a superficial use of a few Latin words then he will produce some "relics", and claim that among them is a bone which has miraculous powers when dipped into a well and a mitten for which: He says that his "theme"-biblical text for a sermon-is Radix malorum est cupiditas ("Greed is the root of evils" 1 Timothy 6.10). However, rather than an apology for his vices, the Pardoner boasts of his duping of his victims, for whom he has nothing but contempt.
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The prologue takes the form of a literary confession in the same manner as The Wife of Bath's Prologue. However, the pilgrims-aware of pardoners' notoriety for telling lewd tales and in anticipation of hearing something objectionable -voice their desire for no ribaldry, but instead want a moral tale. The Host then asks the Pardoner to "telle us som myrthe or japes right anon". … 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.
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The invitation for the Pardoner to tell a tale comes after the Host declares his dissatisfaction with the depressing tale, and declares: The Physician's Tale is a harrowing tale about a judge who plots with a "churl " to abduct a beautiful young woman rather than allow her to be raped, her father beheads her. The proudest of the revelers glanced at him and laughed scornfully.In the order of The Canterbury Tales, the Pardoner's Prologue and Tale are preceded by The Physician's Tale. He tottered out of their way and said meekly, "God keep you, gentlemen." So the three, all of them half drunk, swore tipsily that they would be as true to one another as born brothers, and then they staggered toward the village that the tavern-keeper had pointed out to them, and as they walked, they swore many dreadful oaths that if they could only catch this Death, they would surely kill him.īefore they had gone half a mile, they came to a stile, and on the other side of the stile was an old man in poor and worn-out garments. He has slain many, but before night he'll be dead himself, he will." Let us each hold up his hand and swear that we will stand by one another like brothers and kill this traitor Death.
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Listen to me, fellows: we are all agreed. "I tell you I'll go to seek him by street and by lane I vow I will. "And you call it such a peril to meet him?" said one of the revelers. My word upon it, it needs a pretty wise man to be on his guard against him." "Why, in the great village over yonder, only a mile from here, Death has slain man, woman, child, page, and hind within this one year. "The boy tells the truth," declared the tavern-keeper. My mother used to tell me to see to it well that I was ready to meet him." That old fellow kills all the people in the country hereabouts he struck down a thousand the last time of pestilence. He was sitting on a bench dead drunk last night, and a sly old thief that they call Death came upon him suddenly and thrust a spear through his heart, and the man fell over dead. "Sir, there is no need of asking," the boy replied, "for I knew two hours and more ago who was to be buried this morning, and surely there is no need of telling you, for he was an old companion of yours. "Boy," the first called tipsily to the waiter, "do you go and ask the corpse's name, and see that you don't forget it on the way back." "What's that?" one asked, and another replied, "Nothing but the jingling of a bell before a corpse." The tinkling of a bell was heard from the street. It was not yet nine o'clock, but these young rioters did not even await the coming of night for their orgies, and though it was so early, they had already emptied many cups. My story is a truly moral tale about three of these revelers who sat together in a tavern one morning. They gambled, they gorged themselves with the richest viands, they drank till they could not have told whether they were men or beasts, and they swore such terrible oaths that it would freeze one's blood to hear them. THERE once lived in Flanders a company of wild young men who gave themselves up to foolish revelry.