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- 1380
- CANTERBURY TALES
- THE WORDS OF THE HOST TO THE PHYSICIAN AND THE PARDONER
- by Geoffrey Chaucer
-
- Our host began to swear as madman would:
- "Halloo!" he cried, "now by the Nails and Blood!
- This was a false churl and a false justice!
- As shameful death as thinking may devise
- Come to such judge who such a helper has!
- And so this luckless maid is slain, alas!
- Alas, too dearly paid she for beauty!
- Wherefore I always say, as men may see,
- That Fortune's gifts, or those of Dame Nature,
- Are cause of death to many a good creature.
- Her beauty was her death, I say again;
- Alas, so pitiably she there was slain!
- From both the kinds of gift I speak of now
- Men often take more harm than help, I vow.
- But truly, my own master lief and dear,
- This is a very pitiful tale to hear,
- Yet let us pass it by as of no force.
- I pray to God to save your gentle corse,
- Your urinals and all your chamberpots,
- Your hippocras and medicines and tots
- And every boxful of electuary;
- God bless them, and Our Lady, holy Mary!
- So may I prosper, you're a proper man,
- And like a prelate too, by Saint Ronan!
- Said I not well? I can't speak in set terms;
- But well I know my heart with grief so warms
- That almost I have caught a cardiac pain.
- Body and Bones! Save I some remedy gain,
- Or else a draught of fresh-drawn, malty ale,
- Or save I hear, anon, a merry tale,
- My heart is lost for pity of this maid.
- You, bon ami, you pardoner," he said,
- "Tell us some pleasant tale or jest, anon."
- "It shall be done," said he, "by Saint Ronan!
- But first," he said, "just here, at this ale-stake,
- I will both drink and eat a bite of cake."
- But then these gentle folk began to cry:
- "Nay, let him tell us naught of ribaldry;
- Tell us some moral thing, that we may hear
- Wisdom, and then we gladly will give ear."
- "I grant it, aye," said he, "but I must think
- Upon some seemly tale the while I drink."
- HERE ENDS THE WORDS OF THE HOST
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