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Unit 1 Handout - Anglo-Saxon & Middle Ages - SET OF HANDOUTS.docx

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Chaucer & the Canterbury Tales Slideshow

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Chaucer & the Canterbury Tales Slideshow

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Geoffrey Chaucer & The Canterbury Tales Teaching Presentation

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Anglo-Saxon Unit Lesson Plans &  Homework

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Anglo-Saxon Unit Lesson Plans &  Homework

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Background

The legend of King Arthur is probably based on the life of a Celtic warrior who fought the Anglo-Saxon invaders of England in the late fifth and early sixth centuries. His role as a defender of England made him a hero to the Britons, the island's Celtic inhabitants. They told stories celebrating his just rule and championship of the oppressed and abused.

By the time the Arthurian legends were transformed into written literature, the Britons had long since been defeated by the Anglo-Saxons. The fact that the tales came from a vanished world only fueled their power as literature. The Arthurian stories set an ideal for knights, and ideals are never fully realized in the present. Their true home may be the legendary past, or a future yet to come.

The selection begins at the start of a New Year's Eve feast at King Arthur's Court in Camelot. Before anyone has started eating, the festivities are interrupted by an immense green knight who suddenly appears at the hall door. The knight rides a green horse and is armed with a gigantic ax.

This horseman hurtles in, and the hall enters;

Not a greeting he gave as the guests he o'erlooked,

Nor wasted his words, but "Where is," he said,

5 "The captain of this crowd? Keenly I wish

To see that sire with sight, and to himself say my say."

He swaggered all about

To scan the host so gay;

He halted, as if in doubt

10 Who in that hall held sway.

"Would you grant me the grace," said Gawain to the king,

"To be gone from this bench and stand by you there,

If I without discourtesy might quit this board,

I would come to your counsel before your court noble.

For I find it not fit, as in faith it is known,

When such a boon is begged before all these knights,

Though you be tempted thereto, to take it on yourself

125 While so bold men about upon benches sit,

That no host under heaven is hardier of will,

Nor better brothers-in-arms where battle is joined;

I am the weakest, well I know, and of wit feeblest;

And the loss of my life would be least of any;

130 That I have you for uncle is my only praise;

My body, but for your blood, is barren of worth;

And for that this folly befits not a king,

And 'tis I that have asked it, it ought to be mine,

And if my claim be not comely let all this court judge in sight."

135 The court assays the claim,

And in counsel all unite

To give Gawain the game

And release the king outright.

The Green Knight upon ground girds him with care:

Bows a bit with his head, and bares his flesh:

190 His long lovely locks he laid over his crown,

Let the naked nape for the need be shown

Gawain grips to his ax and gathers it aloft-

The left foot on the floor before him he set-

Brought it down deftly upon the bare neck,

195 That the shock of the sharp blow shivered the bones

That the blade of bright steel bit into the ground.

The head was hewn off and fell to the floor;

Many found it at their feet, as forth it rolled;

200 The blood gushed from the body, bright on the green,

Yet fell not the fellow, nor faltered a whit,

But stoutly he starts forth upon stiff shanks,

And as all stood staring he stretched forth his hand,

Laid hold of his head and heaved it aloft,

205 Then goes to the green steed, grasps the bridle,

Steps into the stirrup, bestrides his mount,

And his head by the hair in his hand holds,

And as steady he sits in the stately saddle

As he had met with no mishap, nor missing were his head.

210 His bulk about he haled,

That fearsome body that bled;

There were many in the court that quailed

Before all his say was said.

Though high-born Arthur at heart had wonder,

He let no sign be seen, but said aloud

To the comely queen, with courteous speech,

"Dear dame, on this day dismay you no whit;

240 Such crafts are becoming at Christmastide,

Laughing at interludes, light songs and mirth,

Amid dancing of damsels with doughty knights.

Nevertheless of my meat now let me partake,

For I have met with a marvel, I may not deny."

245 He glanced at Sir Gawain, and gaily he said,

"Now, sir, hang up your ax, that has hewn enough,"

And over the high dais it was hung on the wall

That men in amazement might on it look,

And tell in true terms the tale of the wonder.

250 Then they turned toward the table, those two together,

The good king and Gawain, and made great feast,

With all dainties double, dishes rare,

With all manner of meat and minstrelsy both,

Such happiness wholly had they that day in hold.

255 Now take care, Sir Gawain,

That your courage wax not cold

When you must turn again

To your enterprise foretold.

The following November, Sir Gawain sets out to fulfill his promise to the Green Knight. For weeks, he travels alone through the cold, threatening woods of North Wales. Then, after he prays for shelter, he comes upon a wondrous castle on Christmas Eve, where he is greeted warmly by the lord of the castle and his lady. The lord assures Sir Gawain that the Green Chapel is nearby and promises to provide him with a guide to lead him there on New Year's Day. Before the lord and Sir Gawain retire for the night, they agree to exchange whatever they receive during the next three days. Sir Gawain keeps his pledge for the first two days, but he fails to give the lord the magic green girdle that the lady gives him on the third day, because she gives it with the promise that it will protect him from harm. The next day, Gawain sets out for the Green Chapel. His guide urges him not to proceed, but Gawain feels that it would be dishonorable not to fulfill his pledge. He is determined to accept his fate; however, he wears the magic green girdle that the lady has given him.

He lowers the long ax and leans on it there,

Sets his arms on the head, the haft on the earth,

And beholds the bold knight that bides there afoot,

425 How he faces him fearless, fierce in full arms,

And plies him with proud words-it pleases him well.

Then once again gaily to Gawain he calls,

And in a loud voice and lusty, delivers these words:

"Bold fellow, on this field your anger forbear!

430 No man has made demands here in manner uncouth,

Nor done, save as duly determined at court.

I owed you a hit and you have it; be happy therewith!

The rest of my rights here I freely resign.

Had I been a bit busier, a buffet, perhaps,

435 I could have dealt more directly; and done you some harm.

First I flourished with a feint, in frolicsome mood,

And left your hide unhurt-and here I did well

By the fair terms we fixed on the first night;

And fully and faithfully you followed accord:

440 Gave over all your gains as a good man should.

A second feint, sir, I assigned for the morning

You kissed my comely wife-each kiss you restored.

For both of these there behooved but two feigned blows by right.

True men pay what they owe;

445 No danger then in sight.

You failed at the third throw,

So take my tap, sir knight.

Critical Reading

1. Respond: If you were King Arthur, would you have allowed Sir Gawain to accept the Green Knight's challenge? Why?

2. (a) Recall: How do Arthur's knights first respond to the Green Knight's challenge? (b) Analyze: Why does the Green Knight laugh at their response? (c) Draw Conclusions: Judging from Arthur's reaction, how important is honor in Arthur's court?

3. (a) Recall: What does Gawain offer to do? (b) Analyze: How does he manage to make his offer seem humble, not boastful? (c) Infer: Why are the offer and his manner of making it appropriate for a knight?

4. (a) Interpret: In lines 464-477, how does Sir Gawain react when he considers his own actions? (b) Draw Conclusions: What do you think Sir Gawain has learned from his second encounter with the Green Knight?

5. Make a Judgment: In your opinion, has Sir Gawain failed to live up to his knightly ideals? Explain.

6. Take a Position: Using the example of Sir Gawain, explain whether you think it is more important to achieve one's goals or to learn from one's mistakes.

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The legend of King Arthur is probably based on the life of a Celtic warrior who fought the Anglo-Saxon invaders of England in the late fifth and early sixth centuries. His role as a defender of England made him a hero to the Britons, the island's Celtic inhabitants.

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The Seafarer Text

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Background

When Beowulf was composed, England was changing from a pagan to a Christian culture. Pagan Anglo-Saxons told grim tales of life ruled by fate, tales in which people struggled against monsters for their place in the world. The missionaries who converted them to Christianity taught them that human beings and their choices of good or evil were at the center of creation. Beowulf reflects both pagan and Christian traditions.

The selection opens during a n evening of celebration at Herot, the banquet hall of the Danish king Hrothgar . Outside in the darkness, however, lurks the murderous monster Grendel.

The Wrath of Grendel

A powerful monster, living down

In the darkness, growled in pain, impatient

As day after day the music rang

5 Call and the poet's clear songs, sung

Of the ancient beginnings of us all, recalling

The Almighty making the earth, shaping

These beautiful plains marked off by oceans,

Then proudly setting the sun and moon

10 To glow across the land and light it;

The corners of the earth were made lovely with trees

And leaves, made quick with life, with each

Of the nations who now move on its face. And then

As now warriors sang of their pleasure:

15 So Hrothgar's men lived happy in his hall

Till the monster stirred, that demon, that fiend,

Grendel, who haunted the moors, the wild

Marshes, and made his home in a hell

Not hell but earth. He was spawned in that slime,

20 Conceived by a pair of those monsters born

By God, punished forever for the crime

Of Abel's death. The Almighty drove

Those demons out, and their exile was bitter,

25 Shut away from men; they split

Into a thousand forms of evil-spirits

And fiends, goblins, monsters, giants,

A brood forever opposing the Lord's

Will, and again and again defeated.

30 Then, when darkness had dropped, Grendel

Went up to Herot, wondering what the warriors

Would do in that hall when their drinking was done.

He found them sprawled in sleep, suspecting

Nothing, their dreams undisturbed. The monster's

35 Thoughts were as quick as his greed or his claws:

He slipped through the door and there in the silence

Snatched up thirty men, smashed them

Unknowing in their beds and ran out with their bodies,

The blood dripping behind him, back

40 To his lair, delighted with his night's slaughter.

At daybreak, with the sun's first light, they saw

How well he had worked, and in that gray morning

Broke their long feast with tears and laments

For the dead. Hrothgar, their lord, sat joyless

45 In Herot, a mighty prince mourning

The fate of his lost friends and companions,

Knowing by its tracks that some demon had torn

His followers apart. He wept, fearing

The beginning might not be the end. And that night

50 Grendel came again, so set

On murder that no crime could ever be enough,

No savage assault quench his lust

For evil. Then each warrior tried

To escape him, searched for rest in different

55 Beds, as far from Herot as they could find,

Seeing how Grendel hunted when they slept.

Distance was safety; the only survivors

Were those who fled him. Hate had triumphed.

So Grendel ruled, fought with the righteous,

60 One against many, and won; so Herot

Stood empty, and stayed deserted for years,

Twelve winters of grief for Hrothgar, king

Of the Danes, sorrow heaped at his door

By hell-forged hands. His misery leaped

65 The seas, was told and sung in all

Men's ears: how Grendel's hatred began,

How the monster relished his savage war

On the Danes, keeping the bloody feud

Alive, seeking no peace, offering

70 No truce, accepting no settlement, no price

In gold or land, and paying the living

For one crime only with another. No one

That shadow of death hunted in the darkness,

75 Stalked Hrothgar's warriors, old

And young, lying in waiting, hidden

In mist, invisibly following them from the edge

Of the marsh, always there, unseen.

So mankind's enemy continued his crimes,

80 Killing as often as he could, coming

Alone, bloodthirsty and horrible. Though he lived

In Herot, when the night hid him, he never

Dared to touch King Hrothgar's glorious

Throne, protected by God-God,

85 Whose love Grendel could not know. But Hrothgar's

Heart was bent. The best and most noble

Of his council debated remedies, sat

In secret sessions, talking of terror

And wondering what the bravest of warriors could do.

90 And sometimes they sacrificed to the old stone gods,

Made heathen vows, hoping for Hell's

Support, the Devil's guidance in driving

Their affliction off. That was their way,

And the heathen's only hope, Hell

95 Always in their hearts, knowing neither God

Nor His passing as He walks through our world, the Lord

Of Heaven and earth; their ears could not hear

His praise nor know His glory. Let them

Beware, those who are thrust into danger,

In their hearts, cannot hope to be better! Hail

To those who will rise to God, drop off

Their dead bodies and seek our Father's peace!

The Coming of Beowulf

Beowulf and his men arrive at Herot and are called to see the King.

That night Beowulf and his men stay inside Herot. While his men sleep, Beowulf lies awake, eager to meet with Grendel.

The Battle with Grendel

The Danes celebrate Beowulf's victory. That night, though, Grendel's mother kills Hrothgar's closest friend and carries off her child's claw. The next day the horrified king tells Beowulf about the two monsters and their underwater lair.

The Monsters' Lair

Beowulf resolves to kill Grendel's monstrous mother. He travels to the lake in which she lives.

The Battle With Grendel's Mother

After being honored by Hrothgar, Beowulf and his fellow Geats return home, where he eventually becomes King. Beowulf rules Geatland for fifty years. When a dragon menaces his kingdom, Beowulf, now an old man, determines to slay the beast. Before going into battle, he tells his men about the royal house and his exploits in its service.

The Last Battle

His name was Wiglaf, he was Wexstan's son

715 And a good soldier; his family had been Swedish,

Once. Watching Beowulf, he could see

How his king was suffering, burning. Remembering

Everything his lord and cousin had given him,

Armor and gold and the great estates

720 Wexstan's family enjoyed, Wiglaf's

Mind was made up; he raised his yellow

Shield and drew his sword-an ancient

Weapon that had once belonged to Onela's

Nephew, and that Wexstan had won, killing

725 The prince when he fled from Sweden, sought safety

Had carried the dead man's armor, and his sword,

To Onela, and the king had said nothing, only

Given him armor and sword and all,

730 Everything his rebel nephew had owned

And lost when he left this life. And Wexstan

Had kept those shining gifts, held them

For years, waiting for his son to use them,

Wear them as honorably and well as once

735 His father had done; then Wexstan died

And Wiglaf was his heir, inherited treasures

And weapons and land. He'd never worn

That armor, fought with that sword, until Beowulf

Called him to his side, led him into war.

740 But his soul did not melt, his sword was strong;

The dragon discovered his courage, and his weapon,

When the rush of battle brought them together.

And Wiglaf, his heart heavy, uttered

The kind of words his comrades deserved:

745 "I remember how we sat in the mead-hall, drinking

And boasting of how brave we'd be when Beowulf

Needed us, he who gave us these swords

And armor: all of us swore to repay him,

When the time came, kindness for kindness

750 -With our lives, if he needed them. He allowed us to

Chose us from all his great army, thinking

Our boasting words had some weight, believing

Our promises, trusting our swords. He took us

For soldiers, for men. He meant to kill

755 This monster himself, our mighty king,

Fight this battle alone and unaided,

As in the days when his strength and daring dazzled

Men's eyes. But those days are over and gone

And now our lord must lean on younger

760 Arms. And we must go to him, while angry

Flames burn at his flesh, help

Our glorious king! By almighty God,

I'd rather burn myself than see

Flames swirling around my lord.

765 And who are we to carry home

Our shields before we've slain his enemy

And ours, to run back to our homes with Beowulf

So hard-pressed here? I swear that nothing

He ever did deserved an end

770 Like this, dying miserably and alone,

Butchered by this savage beast: we swore

That these swords and armor were each for us all!"

Then he ran to his king, crying encouragement

As he dove through the dragon's deadly fumes.

Wiglaf and Beowulf kill the dragon, but the old king is mortally wounded. As he dies, Beowulf asks Wiglaf to bring him the treasure that the dragon was guarding.

The Spoils

Wiglaf denounces the warriors who deserted Beowulf. The Geats burn their king's body on a funeral pyre and bitterly lament his death.

The Farewell

Critical Reading

1. Respond: Which episode in the epic did you find most thrilling? Why?

2. (a) Recall: At the opening of the poem, what annoys Grendel and leads to his attacks? (b) Interpret: What universal conflict lies behind his war with the Danes?

3. (a) Recall: Why does Beowulf travel to Herot? (b) Infer: What do his motives for the trip tell you about his character? (c) Analyze: How does the contrast between Grendel and Beowulf turn their conflict into a fight between good and evil?

4. (a) Infer: What does Beowulf's speech in lines 246-255 show about how he defines his identity? (b) Compare and Contrast: Although Beowulf is brave and Grendel is spiteful, both might be said to act out of pride. Explain.

5. Synthesize: Beowulf's defeat of Grendel might be described as the defeat of the "dark side" of the warrior's life. Explain.

6. (a) Support: Identify an example from the epic in which the memory of Beowulf's deeds inspires someone. (b) Synthesize: Explain how the poem, by keeping Beowulf's memory alive, keeps a culture's values alive.

7. Evaluate: Do you think Beowulf's deeds make him a good role model? Explain.

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When Beowulf was composed, England was changing from a pagan to a Christian culture. Pagan Anglo-Saxons told grim tales of life ruled by fate, tales in which people struggled against monsters for their place in the world. The missionaries who converted them to Christianity taught them that human beings and their choices of good or evil were at the center of creation.

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In medieval Christianity, pilgrimages-long, annual trips to holy places-were a popular way to express religious devotion. Canterbury, a town 55 miles southeast of London, was a major destination for English pilgrims. The cathedral in Canterbury was the site of Archbishop Thomas à Becket's murder in 1170. Days after the murder and three years before Becket was made a saint, people began flocking to the cathedral to pay their respects.

The first eighteen lines of the Prologue are presented here in Chaucer's original Middle English, followed by the entire Prologue in a modern translation.

When in April the sweet showers fall

And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all

The veins are bathed in liquor of such power

As brings about the engendering of the flower,

Exhales an air in every grove and heath

Upon tender shoots, and the young sun

And the small fowl are making melody

10 That sleep away the night with open eye

(So nature pricks them and their heart engages)

Then people long to go on pilgrimages

And palmers long to seek the stranger strands

Of far-off saints, hallowed in sundry lands,

15 And specially, from every shire's end

In England, down to Canterbury they wend

To give his help to them when they were sick.

It happened in that season that one day

20 In Southwark, at The Tabard, as I lay

Ready to go on pilgrimage and start

For Canterbury, most devout at heart,

At night there came into that hostelry

Some nine and twenty in a company

25 Of sundry folk happening then to fall

In fellowship, and they were pilgrims all

That towards Canterbury meant to ride.

The rooms and stables of the inn were wide;

They made us easy, all was of the best.

30 And shortly, when the sun had gone to rest,

By speaking to them all upon the trip

I soon was one of them in fellowship

And promised to rise early and take the way

To Canterbury, as you heard me say.

35 But nonetheless, while I have time and space,

Before my story takes a further pace,

It seems a reasonable thing to say

What their condition was, the full array

Of each of them, as it appeared to me

40 According to profession and degree,

And what apparel they were riding in;

And at a Knight I therefore will begin.

Who from the day on which he first began

45 To ride abroad had followed chivalry,

Truth, honor, generousness and courtesy.

He had done nobly in his sovereign's war

And ridden into battle, no man more,

As well in Christian as heathen places,

50 And ever honored for his noble graces.

He often sat at table in the chair

Of honor, above all nations, when in Prussia.

In Lithuania he had ridden, and Russia,

55 No Christian man so often, of his rank.

When, in Granada, Algeciras sank

Under assault, he had been there, and in

North Africa, raiding Benamarin;

In Anatolia he had been as well

60 And fought when Ayas and Attalia fell,

For all along the Mediterranean coast

He had embarked with many a noble host.

In fifteen mortal battles he had been

And jousted for our faith at Tramissene

65 Thrice in the lists, and always killed his man.

For him against another heathen Turk;

He was of sovereign value in all eyes.

70 And though so much distinguished, he was wise

And in his bearing modest as a maid.

He never yet a boorish thing had said

In all his life to any, come what might;

He was a true, a perfect gentle-knight.

75 Speaking of his equipment, he possessed

Fine horses, but he was not gaily dressed.

With smudges where his armor had left mark;

Just home from service, he had joined our ranks

80 To do his pilgrimage and render thanks.

A lover and cadet, a lad of fire

With locks as curly as if they had been pressed.

He was some twenty years of age, I guessed.

85 In stature he was of a moderate length,

With wonderful agility and strength.

He'd seen some service with the cavalry

And had done valiantly in little space

90 Of time, in hope to win his lady's grace.

He was embroidered like a meadow bright

And full of freshest flowers, red and white.

Singing he was, or fluting all the day;

He was as fresh as is the month of May.

95 Short was his gown, the sleeves were long and wide;

He knew the way to sit a horse and ride.

He could make songs and poems and recite,

Knew how to joust and dance, to draw and write.

He loved so hotly that till dawn grew pale

100 He slept as little as a nightingale.

Courteous he was, lowly and serviceable,

And carved to serve his father at the table.

No other servant; so he chose to ride.

105 This Yeoman wore a coat and hood of green,

And peacock-feathered arrows, bright and keen

And neatly sheathed, hung at his belt the while

-For he could dress his gear in yeoman style,

His arrows never drooped their feathers low-

110 And in his hand he bore a mighty bow.

His head was like a nut, his face was brown.

He knew the whole of woodcraft up and down.

It from the bow-string, and a shield and sword

115 Hung at one side, and at the other slipped

Of shining silver on his breast, and bore

A hunting-horn, well slung and burnished clean,

He was a proper forester I guess.

Her way of smiling very simple and coy.

125 And she was known as Madam Eglantyne.

Intoning through her nose, as was most seemly,

And she spoke daintily in French, extremely,

130 French in the Paris style she did not know.

At meat her manners were well taught withal;

No morsel from her lips did she let fall,

Nor dipped her fingers in the sauce too deep;

But she could carry a morsel up and keep

135 The smallest drop from falling on her breast.

For courtliness she had a special zest,

And she would wipe her upper lip so clean

That not a trace of grease was to be seen

Upon the cup when she had drunk; to eat,

140 She reached a hand sedately for the meat.

She certainly was very entertaining,

Pleasant and friendly in her ways, and straining

To counterfeit a courtly kind of grace,

A stately bearing fitting to her place,

145 And to seem dignified in all her dealings.

As for her sympathies and tender feelings,

She used to weep if she but saw a mouse

Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bleeding.

150 And she had little dogs she would be feeding

With roasted flesh, or milk, or fine white bread.

And bitterly she wept if one were dead

Or someone took a stick and made it smart;

She was all sentiment and tender heart.

155 Her veil was gathered in a seemly way,

Her nose was elegant, her eyes glass-gray;

Her mouth was very small, but soft and red,

Her forehead, certainly, was fair of spread,

160 She was indeed by no means undergrown.

Her cloak, I noticed, had a graceful charm.

She wore a coral trinket on her arm,

Whence hung a golden brooch of brightest sheen

170 Who rode the country; hunting was his sport.

A manly man, to be an Abbot able;

Many a dainty horse he had in stable.

His bridle, when he rode, a man might hear

Jingling in a whistling wind as clear,

175 Aye, and as loud as does the chapel bell

Where my lord Monk was Prior of the cell.

As old and strict he tended to ignore;

He let go by the things of yesterday

180 And took the modern world's more spacious way.

He did not rate that text at a plucked hen

Which says that hunters are not holy men

And that a monk uncloistered is a mere

Fish out of water, flapping on the pier,

185 That is to say a monk out of his cloister.

That was a text he held not worth an oyster;

And I agreed and said his views were sound;

Was he to study till his head went round

Poring over books in cloisters? Must he toil

Was he to leave the world upon the shelf?

Let Austin have his labor to himself.

This Monk was therefore a good man to horse;

Greyhounds he had, as swift as birds, to course.

195 Hunting a hare or riding at a fence

Was all his fun, he spared for no expense.

With fine gray fur, the finest in the land,

And on his hood, to fasten it at his chin

200 He had a wrought-gold cunningly fashioned pin;

Into a lover's knot it seemed to pass.

His head was bald and shone like looking-glass;

So did his face, as if it had been greased.

He was a fat and personable priest;

205 His prominent eyeballs never seemed to settle.

They glittered like the flames beneath a kettle;

Supple his boots, his horse in fine condition.

He was a prelate fit for exhibition,

He was not pale like a tormented soul.

210 He liked a fat swan best, and roasted whole.

215 So glib with gallant phrase and well-turned speech.

He'd fixed up many a marriage, giving each

Of his young women what he could afford her.

He was a noble pillar to his Order.

Highly beloved and intimate was he

And city dames of honor and possessions;

For he was qualified to hear confessions,

Or so he said, with more than priestly scope;

He had a special license from the Pope.

He was an easy man in penance-giving

Where he could hope to make a decent living;

It's a sure sign whenever gifts are given

And should he give enough he knew in verity

The penitent repented in sincerity.

For many a fellow is so hard of heart

He cannot weep, for all his inward smart.

235 Therefore instead of weeping and of prayer

One should give silver for a poor Friar's care.

And pocket-knives, to give to pretty girls.

And certainly his voice was gay and sturdy,

At sing-songs he was champion of the hour.

His neck was whiter than a lily-flower

But strong enough to butt a bruiser down.

He knew the taverns well in every town

245 And every innkeeper and barmaid too

Better than lepers, beggars and that crew,

For in so eminent a man as he

It was not fitting with the dignity

Of his position, dealing with a scum

250 Of wretched lepers; nothing good can come

Of dealings with the slum-and-gutter dwellers,

But only with the rich and victual-sellers.

But anywhere a profit might accrue

Courteous he was and lowly of service too.

255 Natural gifts like his were hard to match.

He was the finest beggar of his batch,

And, for his begging-district, payed a rent;

His brethren did no poaching where he went.

For though a widow mightn't have a shoe,

260 So pleasant was his holy how-d'ye-do

He got his farthing from her just the same

Before he left, and so his income came

To more than he laid out. And how he romped,

Just like a puppy! He was ever prompt

265 To arbitrate disputes on settling days

(For a small fee) in many helpful ways,

Not then appearing as your cloistered scholar

With threadbare habit hardly worth a dollar,

But much more like a Doctor or a Pope.

Upon his shoulders, and the swelling fold

About him, like a bell about its mold

When it is casting, rounded out his dress.

He lisped a little out of wantonness

275 To make his English sweet upon his tongue.

When he had played his harp, or having sung,

His eyes would twinkle in his head as bright

As any star upon a frosty night.

This worthy's name was Hubert, it appeared.

And motley dress, high on his horse he sat,

And on his feet daintily buckled boots.

He told of his opinions and pursuits

285 In solemn tones, and how he never lost.

The sea should be kept free at any cost

He was expert at currency exchange.

This estimable Merchant so had set

290 His wits to work, none knew he was in debt,

He was so stately in negotiation,

Loan, bargain and commercial obligation.

He was an excellent fellow all the same;

To tell the truth I do not know his name.

One who had taken logic long ago,

Was there; his horse was thinner than a rake,

And he was not too fat, I undertake,

But had a hollow look, a sober stare;

300 The thread upon his overcoat was bare.

He had found no preferment in the church

And he was too unworldly to make search

For secular employment. By his bed

He preferred having twenty books in red

Though a philosopher, as I have told,

Whatever money from his friends he took

310 He spent on learning or another book

And prayed for them most earnestly, returning

Thanks to them thus for paying for his learning.

His only care was study, and indeed

He never spoke a word more than was need,

315 Formal at that, respectful in the extreme,

Short, to the point, and lofty in his theme.

The thought of moral virtue filled his speech

And he would gladly learn, and gladly teach.

There also was, of noted excellence.

Discreet he was, a man to reverence,

Or so he seemed, his sayings were so wise.

He often had been Justice of Assize

His fame and learning and his high position

Had won him many a robe and many a fee.

330 Not one conveyance could be called in question.

Nowhere there was so busy a man as he;

But was less busy than he seemed to be.

He knew of every judgment, case and crime

Recorded, ever since King William's time.

335 He could dictate defenses or draft deeds;

And he knew every statute off by rote.

He wore a homely parti-colored coat

Girt with a silken belt of pin-stripe stuff;

340 Of his appearance I have said enough.

White as a daisy-petal was his beard.

345 He lived for pleasure and had always done,

In whose opinion sensual delight

Was the one true felicity in sight.

350 He made his household free to all the County.

His bread, his ale were the finest of the fine

And no one had a better stock of wine.

His house was never short of bake-meat pies,

Of fish and flesh, and these in such supplies

355 It positively snowed with meat and drink

And all the dainties that a man could think.

According to the seasons of the year

Changes of dish were ordered to appear.

He kept fat partridges in coops, beyond,

360 Many a bream and pike were in his pond.

Woe to the cook whose sauces had no sting

Or who was unprepared in anything!

And in his hall a table stood arrayed

And ready all day long, with places laid.

A dagger and a little purse of silk

Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk.

As Sheriff he checked audit, every entry.

370 He was a model among landed gentry.

Among our ranks, all in the livery

375 They were so trim and fresh their gear would pass

For new. Their knives were not tricked out with brass

A like display on girdles and on pouches.

380 A guild-hall with a seat upon the dais.

Their wisdom would have justified a plan

To make each one of them an alderman;

They had the capital and revenue,

Besides their wives declared it was their due.

385 And if they did not think so, then they ought;

And so is going to church and being seen

Having your mantle carried like a queen.

390 For boiling chicken with a marrow-bone,

Sharp flavoring-powder and a spice for savor.

He could distinguish London ale by flavor,

And he could roast and seethe and broil and fry,

Make good thick soup and bake a tasty pie.

395 But what a pity-so it seemed to me,

That he should have an ulcer on his knee.

He came from Dartmouth, so I understood.

400 He rode a farmer's horse as best he could,

In a woolen gown that reached his knee.

Hung from his neck under his arm and down.

The summer heat had tanned his color brown,

405 And certainly he was an excellent fellow.

Many a draught of vintage, red and yellow,

He'd drawn at Bordeaux, while the trader snored.

The nicer rules of conscience he ignored.

If, when he fought, the enemy vessel sank,

410 He sent his prisoners home; they walked the plank.

As for his skill in reckoning his tides,

Currents and many another risk besides,

Moons, harbors, pilots, he had such dispatch

That none from Hull to Carthage was his match.

415 Hardy he was, prudent in undertaking;

His beard in many a tempest had its shaking,

And he knew all the havens as they were

From Gottland to the Cape of Finisterre,

And every creek in Brittany and Spain;

No one alive could talk as well as he did

On points of medicine and of surgery,

For, being grounded in astronomy,

425 He watched his patient's favorable star

And, by his Natural Magic, knew what are

The lucky hours and planetary degrees

For making charms and magic effigies.

The cause of every malady you'd got

He knew their seat, their humor and condition.

He was a perfect practicing physician.

These causes being known for what they were,

He gave the man his medicine then and there.

Were ready with the drugs he would prescribe,

And each made money from the other's guile;

They had been friendly for a goodish while.

440 And what Hippocrates and Rufus knew

And Dioscorides, now dead and gone,

Galen and Rhazes, Hali, Serapion,

Averroes, Avicenna, Constantine,

445 In his own diet he observed some measure;

There were no superfluities for pleasure,

Only digestives, nutritives and such.

He did not read the Bible very much.

In blood-red garments, slashed with bluish-gray

Yet he was rather close as to expenses

And kept the gold he won in pestilences.

Gold stimulates the heart, or so we're told.

He therefore had a special love of gold.

Was with us, somewhat deaf, which was a pity.

In making cloth she showed so great a bent

In all the parish not a dame dared stir

460 Towards the altar steps in front of her,

And if indeed they did, so wrath was she

As to be quite put out of charity.

I dared have sworn they weighed a good ten pound,

465 The ones she wore on Sunday, on her head.

Her hose were of the finest scarlet red

And gartered tight; her shoes were soft and new.

Bold was her face, handsome, and red in hue.

A worthy woman all her life, what's more

470 She'd had five husbands, all at the church door,

Apart from other company in youth;

No need just now to speak of that, forsooth.

And she had thrice been to Jerusalem,

Seen many strange rivers and passed over them;

475 She'd been to Rome and also to Boulogne,

And she was skilled in wandering by the way.

She had gap-teeth, set widely, truth to say.

Easily on an ambling horse she sat

She had a flowing mantle that concealed

Large hips, her heels spurred sharply under that.

In company she liked to laugh and chat

485 And knew the remedies for love's mischances,

An art in which she knew the oldest dances.

A holy-minded man of good renown

Yet he was rich in holy thought and work.

490 He also was a learned man, a clerk,

Who truly knew Christ's gospel and would preach it

Devoutly to parishioners, and teach it.

Benign and wonderfully diligent,

And patient when adversity was sent

495 (For so he proved in great adversity)

Nay rather he preferred beyond a doubt

Giving to poor parishioners round about

From his own goods and Easter offerings

500 He found sufficiency in little things.

Wide was his parish, with houses far asunder,

Yet he neglected not in rain or thunder,

In sickness or in grief, to pay a call

On the remotest, whether great or small,

505 Upon his feet, and in his hand a stave.

This noble example to his sheep he gave,

First following the word before he taught it,

And it was from the gospel he had caught it.

This little proverb he would add thereto

510 That if gold rust, what then will iron do?

For if a priest be foul in whom we trust

No wonder that a common man should rust;

And shame it is to see-let priests take stock-

A soiled shepherd and a snowy flock.

515 The true example that a priest should give

Is one of cleanness, how the sheep should live.

And leave his sheep encumbered in the mire

Or run to London to earn easy bread

520 By singing masses for the wealthy dead,

Or find some Brotherhood and get enrolled.

He stayed at home and watched over his fold

So that no wolf should make the sheep miscarry.

He was a shepherd and no mercenary.

525 Holy and virtuous he was, but then

Never contemptuous of sinful men,

Never disdainful, never too proud or fine,

But was discreet in teaching and benign.

His business was to show a fair behavior

530 And draw men thus to Heaven and their Savior,

Unless indeed a man were obstinate;

And such, whether of high or low estate,

He put to sharp rebuke to say the least.

I think there never was a better priest.

535 He sought no pomp or glory in his dealings,

No scrupulosity had spiced his feelings.

Christ and His Twelve Apostles and their lore

He taught, but followed it himself before.

540 Many a load of dung one time or other

He must have carted through the morning dew.

He was an honest worker, good and true,

Living in peace and perfect charity,

And, as the gospel bade him, so did he,

545 Loving God best with all his heart and mind

And then his neighbor as himself, repined

At no misfortune, slacked for no content,

For steadily about his work he went

To thrash his corn, to dig or to manure

550 Or make a ditch; and he would help the poor

For love of Christ and never take a penny

If he could help it, and, as prompt as any,

He paid his tithes in full when they were due

On what he owned, and on his earnings too.

There was a Reeve, also a Miller , there,

560 And finally myself-that was the lot.

A great stout fellow big in brawn and bone.

He did well out of them, for he could go

And win the ram at any wrestling show.

565 Broad, knotty and short-shouldered, he would boast

He could heave any door off hinge and post,

Or take a run and break it with his head.

His beard, like any sow or fox, was red

And broad as well, as though it were a spade;

570 And, at its very tip, his nose displayed

A wart on which there stood a tuft of hair.

Red as the bristles in an old sow's ear.

His nostrils were as black as they were wide.

He had a sword and buckler at his side,

575 His mighty mouth was like a furnace door.

A wrangler and buffoon, he had a store

Of tavern stories, filthy in the main.

His was a master-hand at stealing grain.

He felt it with his thumb and thus he knew

580 Its quality and took three times his due-

A thumb of gold, by God, to gauge an oat!

He wore a hood of blue and a white coat.

He liked to play his bagpipes up and down

And that was how he brought us out of town.

All caterers might follow his example

In buying victuals; he was never rash

Whether he bought on credit or paid cash.

He used to watch the market most precisely

590 And go in first, and so he did quite nicely.

Now isn't it a marvel of God's grace

That an illiterate fellow can outpace

The wisdom of a heap of learned men?

His masters-he had more than thirty then-

595 All versed in the abstrusest legal knowledge,

Could have produced a dozen from their College

Fit to be stewards in land and rents and game

To any Peer in England you could name,

And show him how to live on what he had

600 Debt-free (unless of course the Peer were mad)

Or be as frugal as he might desire,

And they were fit to help about the Shire

In any legal case there was to try;

And yet this Manciple could wipe their eye.

His beard was shaven closely to the skin,

His shorn hair came abruptly to a stop

Above his ears, and he was docked on top

Just like a priest in front; his legs were lean,

610 Like sticks they were, no calf was to be seen.

No auditor could gain a point on him.

And he could judge by watching drought and rain

The yield he might expect from seed and grain.

615 His master's sheep, his animals and hens,

Pigs, horses, dairies, stores and cattle-pens

Were wholly trusted to his government.

And he was under contract to present

The accounts, right from his master's earliest years.

620 No one had ever caught him in arrears.

No bailiff, serf or herdsman dared to kick,

He knew their dodges, knew their every trick;

Feared like the plague he was, by those beneath.

He had a lovely dwelling on a heath,

A better hand at bargains than his lord,

He had grown rich and had a store of treasure

Well tucked away, yet out it came to pleasure

His lord with subtle loans or gifts of goods,

630 To earn his thanks and even coats and hoods.

When young he'd learnt a useful trade and still

He was a carpenter of first-rate skill.

The stallion-cob he rode at a slow trot

Was dapple-gray and bore the name of Scot.

635 He wore an overcoat of bluish shade

And rather long; he had a rusty blade

Slung at his side. He came, as I heard tell,

From Norfolk, near a place called Baldeswell.

His coat was tucked under his belt and splayed.

640 He rode the hindmost of our cavalcade.

He was as hot and lecherous as a sparrow.

645 Black, scabby brows he had, and a thin beard.

Children were afraid when he appeared.

No quicksilver, lead ointments, tartar creams,

Could make a salve that had the power to bite,

Or purge the pimples sitting on his cheeks.

Garlic he loved, and onions too, and leeks,

And drinking strong wine till all was hazy.

Then he would shout and jabber as if crazy,

655 And wouldn't speak a word except in Latin

When he was drunk, such tags as he was pat in;

He only had a few, say two or three,

That he had mugged up out of some decree;

No wonder, for he heard them every day.

660 And, as you know, a man can teach a jay

To call out "Walter" better than the Pope.

But had you tried to test his wits and grope

For more, you'd have found nothing in the bag.

665 He was a gentle varlet and a kind one,

No better fellow if you went to find one.

He would allow-just for a quart of wine-

Any good lad to keep a concubine

A twelvemonth and dispense it altogether!

670 Yet he could pluck a finch to leave no feather:

And if he found some rascal with a maid

He would instruct him not to be afraid

In such a case of the Archdeacon's curse

(Unless the rascal's soul were in his purse)

675 For in his purse the punishment should be.

"Purse is the good Archdeacon's Hell," said he.

But well I know he lied in what he said;

A curse should put a guilty man in dread,

For curses kill, as shriving brings, salvation.

680 We should beware of excommunication.

Thus, as he pleased, the man could bring duress

On any young fellow in the diocese.

He knew their secrets, they did what he said.

He wore a garland set upon his head

685 Large as the holly-bush upon a stake

Outside an ale-house, and he had a cake,

A round one, which it was his joke to wield

As if it were intended for a shield.

690 A bird from Charing Cross of the same feather,

Just back from visiting the Court of Rome.

The Summoner sang deep seconds to this song,

No trumpet ever sounded half so strong.

695 This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,

Hanging down smoothly like a hank of flax.

In driblets fell his locks behind his head

Down to his shoulder which they overspread;

Thinly they fell, like rat-tails, one by one.

700 He wore no hood upon his head, for fun;

The hood inside his wallet had been stowed,

He aimed at riding in the latest mode;

But for a little cap his head was bare

And he had bulging eyeballs, like a hare.

705 He'd sewed a holy relic on his cap;

His wallet lay before him on his lap,

Brimful of pardons come from Rome all hot.

He had the same small voice a goat has got.

His chin no beard had harbored, nor would harbor,

710 Smoother than ever chin was left by barber.

I judge he was a gelding, or a mare.

As to his trade, from Berwick down to Ware

There was no pardoner of equal grace,

For in his trunk he had a pillowcase

715 Which he asserted was Our Lady's veil.

Saint Peter had the time when he made bold

To walk the waves, till Jesu Christ took hold.

He had a cross of metal set with stones

720 And, in a glass, a rubble of pigs' bones.

And with these relics, any time he found

Some poor up-country parson to astound,

On one short day, in money down, he drew

More than the parson in a month or two,

Made monkeys of the priest and congregation.

But still to do him justice first and last

In church he was a noble ecclesiast.

How well he read a lesson or told a story!

For well he knew that when that song was sung

He'd have to preach and tune his honey-tongue

And (well he could) win silver from the crowd.

That's why he sang so merrily and loud.

735 Now I have told you shortly, in a clause,

The rank, the array, the number and the cause

Of our assembly in this company

In Southwark, at that high-class hostelry

Known as The Tabard, close beside The Bell.

740 And now the time has come for me to tell

How we behaved that evening; I'll begin

After we had alighted at the inn,

Then I'll report our journey, stage by stage,

All the remainder of our pilgrimage.

745 But first I beg of you, in courtesy,

Not to condemn me as unmannerly

If I speak plainly and with no concealings

And give account of all their words and dealings,

Using their very phrases as they fell.

750 For certainly, as you all know so well,

He who repeats a tale after a man

Is bound to say, as nearly as he can,

Each single word, if he remembers it,

However rudely spoken or unfit,

755 Or else the tale he tells will be untrue,

The things invented and the phrases new.

He may not flinch although it were his brother,

If he says one word he must say the other.

760 And as you know there's nothing there unfit,

"The word should be as cousin to the deed."

Further I beg you to forgive it me

If I neglect the order and degree

765 And what is due to rank in what I've planned.

I'm short of wit as you will understand.

Was given a place and supper was begun.

He served the finest victuals you could think,

770 The wine was strong and we were glad to drink.

A very striking man our Host withal,

And fit to be a marshal in a hall.

His eyes were bright, his girth a little wide;

775 Bold in his speech, yet wise and full of tact,

There was no manly attribute he lacked,

What's more he was a merry-hearted man.

After our meal he jokingly began

To talk of sport, and, among other things

780 After we'd settled up our reckonings,

He said as follows: "Truly, gentlemen,

You're very welcome and I can't think when

-Upon my word I'm telling you no lie-

I've seen a gathering here that looked so spry,

785 No, not this year, as in this tavern now.

I'd think you up some fun if I knew how.

And, as it happens, a thought has just occurred

And it will cost you nothing, on my word.

You're off to Canterbury-well, God speed!

790 Blessed St. Thomas answer to your need!

And I don't doubt, before the journey's done

You mean to while the time in tales and fun.

Indeed, there's little pleasure for your bones

Riding along and all as dumb as stones.

795 So let me then propose for your enjoyment,

Just as I said, a suitable employment.

And if my notion suits and you agree

And promise to submit yourselves to me

Playing your parts exactly as I say

800 Tomorrow as you ride along the way,

Then by my father's soul (and he is dead)

If you don't like it you can have my head!

Hold up your hands, and not another word."

Well, our consent of course was not deferred,

805 It seemed not worth a serious debate;

We all agreed to it at any rate

And bade him issue what commands he would.

"My lords," he said, "now listen for your good,

And please don't treat my notion with disdain.

810 This is the point. I'll make it short and plain.

Each one of you shall help to make things slip

By telling two stories on the outward trip

To Canterbury, that's what I intend,

And, on the homeward way to journey's end

815 Another two, tales from the days of old;

And then the man whose story is best told,

That is to say who gives the fullest measure

Of good morality and general pleasure,

He shall be given a supper, paid by all,

820 Here in this tavern, in this very hall,

When we come back again from Canterbury.

And in the hope to keep you bright and merry

I'll go along with you myself and ride

All at my own expense and serve as guide.

825 I'll be the judge, and those who won't obey

Shall pay for what we spend upon the way.

Now if you all agree to what you've heard

Tell me at once without another word,

And I will make arrangements early for it."

830 Of course we all agreed, in fact we swore it

Delightedly, and made entreaty too

That he should act as he proposed to do,

Become our Governor in short, and be

Judge of our tales and general referee,

835 And set the supper at a certain price.

We promised to be ruled by his advice

Come high, come low; unanimously thus

We set him up in judgment over us.

More wine was fetched, the business being done;

840 We drank it off and up went everyone

To bed without a moment of delay.

Early next morning at the spring of day

Up rose our Host and roused us like a cock,

Gathering us together in a flock,

845 And off we rode at slightly faster pace

And there our Host drew up, began to ease

His horse, and said, "Now, listen if you please,

My lords! Remember what you promised me.

Let's see who shall be first to tell a tale.

And as I hope to drink good wine and ale

I'll be your judge. The rebel who disobeys,

However much the journey costs, he pays.

The man who draws the shortest cut shall start."

1. Respond: Which of the pilgrims would you most like to meet? Why?

4. Infer: Judging from the descriptions of the two, what does Chaucer think can cause a religious person to fail in his or her duty?

5. Compare and Contrast: How does Chaucer's attitude towards the Monk differ, if at all, from his attitude towards the Friar? Explain.

6. (a) Infer: What does Chaucer seem to dislike about the Skipper? (b) Infer: What does he seem to admire about this character? (c) Draw Conclusions: Describe Chaucer's overall attitude toward him.

7. Draw Conclusions: Judging from his pilgrims, do you think Chaucer believes people are basically good, basically evil, or often a mix of the two? Give examples to support your answer.

10. Evaluate: Do you think Chaucer's view of people is justified? Explain.

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In medieval Christianity, pilgrimages-long, annual trips to holy places-were a popular way to express religious devotion. Canterbury, a town 55 miles southeast of London, was a major destination for English pilgrims. The cathedral in Canterbury was the site of Archbishop Thomas à Becket's murder in 1170.

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In the Prologue, Chaucer describes the Pardoner as a cleric full of "flatteries and prevarication." By selling pardons-documents officially forgiving the purchaser's sins-and supposedly holy relics, the swindling Pardoner earns more in one short day than a poor country parson earns in a month or two. Even while exposing the Pardoner's dishonesty, Chaucer praises the Pardoner's persuasive skills: "How well he read a lesson or told a story!" Now, when it is the Pardoner's turn to tell a story, he himself explains his methods: All his sermons illustrate the biblical text Radix malorum est cupiditas ("Love of money is the root of all evil"). He finds that preaching against the sin of avarice, or greed, is the best way to get people to pay him large sums of money for his pardons and relics! After providing this boastful explanation, he then proceeds to tell one of the stories from his sermons. As you read, think of answers to the question, What effect would the Pardoner's story have on an audience of poorly educated country folk?

The Pardoner explains how he introduces himself to a congregation, showing official documents and offering relics as cures for various problems. Next, he explains how he preaches.

"Then, priestlike in my pulpit, with a frown,

I preach, as you have heard me say before,

I take great pains, and stretching out my neck

To east and west I crane about and peck

15 Just like a pigeon sitting on a barn.

My hands and tongue together spin the yarn

20 Out come the pence, and specially for myself,

For my exclusive purpose is to win

Once dead what matter how their souls may fare?

They can go blackberrying, for all I care!

25 "Believe me, many a sermon or devotive

Some to give pleasure by their flattery

And gain promotion through hypocrisy,

Some out of vanity, some out of hate;

30 Or when I dare not otherwise debate

I'll put my discourse into such a shape,

My tongue will be a dagger; no escape

For him from slandering falsehood shall there be,

35 For though I never mention him by name

The congregation guesses all the same

From certain hints that everybody knows,

And so I take revenge upon our foes

And spit my venom forth, while I profess

40 Holy and true-or seeming holiness.

"But let me briefly make my purpose plain;

I preach for nothing but for greed of gain

And use the same old text, as bold as brass,

Radix malorum est cupiditas.

45 And thus I preach against the very vice

I make my living out of-avarice.

And yet however guilty of that sin

Myself with others I have power to win

Them from it, I can bring them to repent;

50 But that is not my principal intent.

Of all I preach. That ought to be enough.

"Well, then I give examples thick and fast

From bygone times, old stories from the past.

55 A yokel mind loves stories from of old,

Being the kind it can repeat and hold.

What! Do you think, as long as I can preach

And get their silver for the things I teach,

That I will live in poverty, from choice?

60 That's not the counsel of my inner voice!

And never do an honest job of work,

No, nor make baskets, like St. Paul, to gain

A livelihood. I do not preach in vain.

65 There's no apostle I would counterfeit;

I mean to have money, wool and cheese and wheat

Though it were given me by the poorest lad

Or poorest village widow, though she had

A string of starving children, all agape.

70 No, let me drink the liquor of the grape

And keep a jolly wench in every town!

"But listen, gentlemen; to bring things down

To a conclusion, would you like a tale?

Now as I've drunk a draught of corn-ripe ale,

75 By God it stands to reason I can strike

On some good story that you all will like.

For though I am a wholly vicious man

Don't think I can't tell moral tales. I can!

Here's one I often preach when out for winning;

80 Now please be quiet. Here is the beginning."

It's of three rioters I have to tell

Were sitting in a tavern for a drink.

And as they sat, they heard the hand-bell clink

85 Before a coffin going to the grave;

And said "Go and find out at once-look spry!-

Whose corpse is in that coffin passing by;

And see you get the name correctly too."

90 "Sir," said the boy, "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.

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.

100 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."

What the child says is right; you'd best be wary,

This very year he killed, in a large village

Page in the household, children-all there were.

110 Yes, I imagine that he lives round there.

It's well to be prepared in these alarms,

He might do you dishonor." "Huh, God's arms!"

The rioter said, "Is he so fierce to meet?

I'll search for him, by Jesus, street by street.

115 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!

120 Away with him as he had 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.

125 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,

130 "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,

135 "God look to you, my lords, and give you quiet!"

To which the proudest of these men of riot

Gave back the answer, "What, old fool? Give place!

Why are you all wrapped up except your face?

Why live so long? Isn't it time to die?"

140 The old, old fellow looked him in the eye

And said, "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.

145 And so my age is mine and must be still

Upon me, for such time as God may will.

"Not even Death, alas, will take my life;

So, like a wretched prisoner at strife

Within himself, I walk alone and wait

150 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!

155 Alas! When will these bones be laid to rest?

Mother, I would exchange-for that were best-

The wardrobe in my chamber, standing there

To wrap me in!' She has refused her grace,

160 Whence comes the pallor of my withered face.

"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,

165 '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.

170 And so may God be with you, gentlemen,

For I must go whither I have to go.'

"By God," the gambler said, "you shan't do so,

You don't get off so easy, by St. John!

I heard you mention, just a moment gone,

175 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!

180 I say you've joined together by consent

To kill us younger folk, you thieving swine!"

"Well, sirs," he said, "if it be your design

To find out Death, turn up this crooked way

Towards that grove, I left him there today

185 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.

190 At once the three young rioters began

To run, and reached the tree, and there they found

New-coined, eight bushels of them as they thought.

No longer was it Death those fellows sought,

195 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.

"Brothers," he said, "you listen to what I say.

200 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

205 This morning was to be our lucky day?

"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?

210 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.

215 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-

220 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

225 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

230 "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 amongst us three.

235 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?"

"But how?" the other said. "He knows the fact

that all the gold was left with me and you;

240 What can we tell him? What are we to do?"

"Is it a bargain," said the first, "or no?

For I can tell you in a word or so

What's to be done to bring the thing about."

"Trust me," the other said, "you needn't doubt

245 My word. I won't betray you, I'll be true."

"Well," said his friend, "you see that we are two,

And two are twice as powerful as one.

Now look; when he comes back, get up in fun

To have a wrestle; then, as you attack,

250 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.

255 Then we can gratify our lusts and fill

The day with dicing at our own sweet will."

The third and youngest, as you heard me say.

The youngest, as he ran towards the town,

260 Kept turning over, rolling up and down

Within his heart the beauty of those bright

New florins, saying, "Lord, to think I might

Have all that treasure to myself alone!

Could there be anyone beneath the throne

265 Of God so happy as I then should be?"

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.

270 To men in such a state the Devil sends

Thoughts of this kind, and has a full permission

For this young man was utterly content

To kill them both and never to repent.

275 And on he ran, he had no thought to tarry ,

Came to the town, found an apothecary

And said, "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

280 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, "I've a preparation

Which you shall have, and by my soul's salvation

285 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

290 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

295 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.

300 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

305 They fell on him and slew him, two to one.

Then said the first of them when this was done,

"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,

310 He took a bottle full of poison up

And drank and his companion, nothing loth,

Drank from it also, and they perished both.

Concerning poison and its operation,

315 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.

1. Respond: Were you surprised by the fate of the rioters? Why or why not?

6. Draw Conclusions: The Pardoner is quite open about the manipulative use to which he puts the tale. Do the Pardoner's reasons for telling the story detract from its moral truth? Explain.

8. Make a Judgment: Do you think the desire for gain is ultimately destructive, as the Pardoner's tale suggests, or can it lead to positive consequences? Explain.

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In the Prologue, Chaucer describes the Pardoner as a cleric full of "flatteries and prevarication." By selling pardons-documents officially forgiving the purchaser's sins-and supposedly holy relics, the swindling Pardoner earns more in one short day than a poor country parson earns in a month or two.

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In her own prologue to this tale, the Wife of Bath pronounces herself an "expert wife." Her experiences with her five husbands were widely varied, but it was her last husband, Johnny, who finally learned what it meant to be a good husband. With his wife's help, Johnny discovered the one elusive thing that women wanted most. In this tale, the Wife of Bath uses the character of the knight to illustrate the lesson Johnny finally learned.

When good King Arthur ruled in ancient days,

(A king that every Briton loves to praise.)

This was a land brim-full of fairy folk.

The Elf-Queen and her courtiers joined and broke

5 Their elfin dance on many a green mead,

Or so was the opinion once, I read,

Hundreds of years ago, in days of yore.

But no one now sees fairies any more.

For now the saintly charity and prayer

10 Of holy friars seem to have purged the air;

They search the countryside through field and stream

Blessing the halls, the chambers, kitchens, bowers,

Cities and boroughs, castles, courts and towers,

And that's the reason why there are no fairies.

Wherever there was wont to walk an elf

To-day there walks the holy friar himself

As evening falls or when the daylight springs,

Walking his limit round from town to town.

Women can now go safely up and down.

By every bush or under every tree;

There is no other incubus but he,

25 So there is really no one else to hurt you

And he will do no more than take your virtue.

Now it so happened, I began to say,

Long, long ago in good King Arthur's day,

There was a knight who was a lusty liver.

30 One day as he came riding from the river

He saw a maiden walking all forlorn

Ahead of him, alone as she was born.

And of that maiden, spite of all she said,

By very force he took her maidenhead.

35 This act of violence made such a stir,

So much petitioning of the king for her,

That he condemned the knight to lose his head

By course of law. He was as good as dead

(It seems that then the statutes took that view)

40 But that the queen, and other ladies too,

So ceaselessly, he gave the queen the case

And granted her his life, and she could choose

Whether to show him mercy or refuse.

45 The queen returned him thanks with all her might,

And then she sent a summons to the knight

At her convenience, and expressed her will:

'You stand, for such is the position still,

In no way certain of your life,' said she,

50 "Yet you shall live if you can answer me:

What is the thing that women most desire?

Beware the axe and say as I require.

"If you can't answer on the moment, though,

I will concede you this: you are to go

55 A twelvemonth and a day to seek and learn

Sufficient answer, then you shall return.

Surrender of your body to the court.'

Sad was the knight and sorrowfully sighed,

60 But there! All other choices were denied,

And in the end he chose to go away

And to return after a year and day

Armed with such answer as there might be sent

To him by God. He took his leave and went.

65 He knocked at every house, searched every place,

Yes, anywhere that offered hope of grace.

What could it be that women wanted most?

But all the same he never touched a coast,

Country or town in which there seemed to be

70 Any two people willing to agree.

Some said that women wanted wealth and treasure,

„Honour," said some, some „Jollity and pleasure,"

Some „Gorgeous clothes" and others "Fun in bed,"

"To be oft widowed and remarried," said

75 Others again, and some that what most mattered

That's very near the truth, it seems to me;

A man can win us best with flattery.

To dance attendance on us, make a fuss,

80 Ensnares us all, the best and worst of us.

Some say the things we most desire are these:

Freedom to do exactly as we please,

With no one to reprove our faults and lies,

Rather to have one call us good and wise.

85 Truly there's not a woman in ten score

Who has a fault, and someone rubs the sore,

But she will kick if what he says is true;

You try it out and you will find so too.

However vicious we may be within

90 We like to be thought wise and void of sin.

Others assert we women find it sweet

When we are thought dependable, discreet

And secret, firm of purpose and controlled,

Never betraying things that we are told.

95 But that's not worth the handle of a rake;

Women conceal a thing? For Heaven's sake!

Among some other little things, now stale,

100 The unhappy Midas grew a splendid pair

Of ass's ears; as subtly as he might,

He kept his foul deformity from sight;

Save for his wife, there was not one that knew.

He loved her best, and trusted in her too.

105 He begged her not to tell a living creature

That he possessed so horrible a feature.

And she-she swore, were all the world to win,

She would not do such villainy and sin

As saddle her husband with so foul a name;

110 Besides to speak would be to share the shame.

Nevertheless she thought she would have died

Keeping this secret bottled up inside;

It seemed to swell her heart and she, no doubt,

Thought it was on the point of bursting out.

115 Fearing to speak of it to woman or man,

Down to a reedy marsh she quickly ran

And reached the sedge. Her heart was all on fire

She whispered to the water, near the ground,

120 "Betray me not, O water, with thy sound!

To thee alone I tell it: it appears

My husband has a pair of ass's ears!

Ah! My heart's well again, the secret's out!

I could no longer keep it, not a doubt."

125 And so you see, although we may hold fast

A little while, it must come out at last,

We can't keep secrets; as for Midas, well,

Read Ovid for his story; he will tell.

This knight that I am telling you about

130 Perceived at last he never would find out

What it could be that women loved the best.

Faint was the soul within his sorrowful breast

As home he went, he dared no longer stay;

His year was up and now it was the day.

135 As he rode home in a dejected mood

Suddenly, at the margin of a wood,

He saw a dance upon the leafy floor

Of four and twenty ladies, nay, and more.

Eagerly he approached, in hope to learn

140 Some words of wisdom ere he should return;

But lo! Before he came to where they were,

Dancers and dance all vanished into air!

There wasn't a living creature to be seen

Save one old woman crouched upon the green.

145 A fouler-looking creature I suppose

Could scarcely be imagined. She arose

And said, "Sir knight, there's no way on from here.

Tell me what you are looking for, my dear,

For peradventure that were best for you;

150 We old, old women know a thing or two."

"Dear Mother," said the knight, "alack the day!

I am as good as dead if I can't say

What thing it is that women most desire;

If you could tell me I would pay your hire."

155 "Give me your hand," she said, "and swear to do

Whatever I shall next require of you

-If so to do should lie within your might-

And you shall know the answer before night."

"Upon my honour," he answered, "I agree."

160 "Then," said the crone, "I dare to guarantee

Your life is safe; I shall make good my claim.

Upon my life the queen will say the same.

Show me the very proudest of them all

165 That dare say no to what I have to teach.

Let us go forward without further speech."

And then she crooned her gospel in his ear

And told him to be glad and not to fear.

They came to court. This knight, in full array,

170 Stood forth and said, "O Queen, I've kept my day

And kept my word and have my answer ready."

There sat the noble matrons and the heady

Young girls, and widows too, that have the grace

Of wisdom, all assembled in that place,

175 And there the queen herself was throned to hear

And judge his answer. Then the knight drew near

And silence was commanded through the hall.

The queen then bade the knight to tell them all

What thing it was that women wanted most.

180 He stood not silent like a beast or post,

But gave his answer with the ringing word

Of a man's voice and the assembly heard:

"My liege and lady, in general," said he,

"A woman wants the self-same sovereignty*

185 Over her husband as over her lover,

And master him; he must not be above her.

That is your greatest wish, whether you kill

Or spare me; please yourself. I wait your will."

In all the court not one that shook her head

190 Or contradicted what the knight had said;

Maid, wife and widow cried, "He's saved his life!"

And on the word up started the old wife,

The one the knight saw sitting on the green,

And cried, "Your mercy, sovereign lady queen!

195 Before the court disperses, do me right!

"Twas I who taught this answer to the knight,

For which he swore, and pledged his honour to it,

That the first thing I asked of him he'd do it,

So far as it should lie within his might.

200 Before this court I ask you then, sir knight,

To keep your word and take me for your wife:

For well you know that I have saved your life.

If this be false, deny it on your sword!'

"Alas!" he said, "Old lady, by the Lord

205 I know indeed that such was my behest,

But for God's love think of a new request,

Take all my goods, but leave my body free."

"A curse on us," she said, "if I agree!

I may be foul, I may be poor and old,

210 Yet will not choose to be, for all the gold

That's bedded in the earth or lies above,

Less than your wife, nay, than your very love!"

"My love?" said he. "By Heaven, my damnation!

Alas that any of my race and station

Yet in the end his pleading and defiance

All went for nothing, he was forced to wed.

He takes his ancient wife and goes to bed.

Now peradventure some may well suspect

220 A lack of care in me since I neglect

To tell of the rejoicings and display

Made at the feast upon their wedding-day.

I have but a short answer to let fall;

I say there was no joy or feast at all,

225 Nothing but heaviness of heart and sorrow.

He married her in private on the morrow

And all day long stayed hidden like an owl,

It was such torture that his wife looked foul.

Great was the anguish churning in his head

230 When he and she were piloted to bed;

He wallowed back and forth in desperate style.

His ancient wife lay smiling all the while;

At last she said "Bless us! Is this, my dear,

How knights and wives get on together here?

235 Are these the laws of good King Arthur's house?

I am your own beloved and your wife,

And I am she, indeed, that saved your life;

And certainly I never did you wrong.

240 Then why, this first of nights, so sad a song?

You're carrying on as if you were half-witted

Say, for God's love, what sin have I committed?

I'll put things right if you will tell me how.'

"Put right?" he cried. „That never can be now!

245 Nothing can ever be put right again!

You're old, and so abominably plain,

So poor to start with, so low-bred to follow;

It's little wonder if I twist and wallow!

God, that my heart would burst within my breast!

250 "Is that," said she, "the cause of your unrest?"

"Yes, certainly," he said, "and can you wonder?"

"I could set right what you suppose a blunder,

That's if I cared to, in a day or two,

If I were shown more courtesy by you.

255 Just now," she said, "you spoke of gentle birth,

Such as descends from ancient wealth and worth.

If that's the claim you make for gentlemen

Such arrogance is hardly worth a hen.

Whoever loves to work for virtuous ends,

260 Public and private, and who most intends

To do what deeds of gentleness he can,

Take him to be the greatest gentleman.

Christ wills we take our gentleness from Him,

Not from a wealth of ancestry long dim,

By which we claim to be of high descent.

Our fathers cannot make us a bequest

Of all those virtues that became them best

And earned for them the name of gentleman,

270 But bade us follow them as best we can.

"Thus the wise poet of the Florentines,

For such is the opinion Dante launches:

'Seldom arises by these slender branches

Wills us to claim of Him our gentleness.'

For of our parents nothing can we claim

Save temporal things, and these may hurt and maim.

"But everyone knows this as well as I;

280 For if gentility were implanted by

The natural course of lineage down the line,

Public or private, could it cease to shine

In doing the fair work of gentle deed?

No vice or villainy could then bear seed.

285 "Take fire and carry it to the darkest house

And shut the doors on it and leave it there,

It will burn on, and it will burn as fair

As if ten thousand men were there to see,

290 For fire will keep its nature and degree,

I can assure you, sir, until it dies.

"But gentleness, as you will recognize,

Is not annexed in nature to possessions,

Men fail in living up to their professions;

295 But fire never ceases to be fire.

God knows you'll often find, if you enquire,

Some lording full of villainy and shame.

Of having been by birth a gentleman

300 And stemming from some virtuous, noble clan,

And do not live yourself by gentle deed

Or take your fathers' noble code and creed,

You are no gentleman, though duke or earl.

Vice and bad manners are what make a churl.

305 „Gentility is only the renown

For bounty that your fathers handed down,

Quite foreign to your person, not your own;

Gentility must come from God alone.

That we are gentle comes to us by grace

310 And by no means is it bequeathed with place.

"Reflect how noble (says Valerius)

Was Tullius surnamed Hostilius,

Who rose from poverty to nobleness.

315 Thus they express themselves and are agreed:

"Gentle is he that does a gentle deed."

And therefore, my dear husband, I conclude

That even if my ancestors were rude,

Yet God on high-and so I hope He will-

320 Can grant me grace to live in virtue still,

A gentlewoman only when beginning

To live in virtue and to shrink from sinning.

"As for my poverty which you reprove,

Almighty God Himself in whom we move,

325 Believe and have our being, chose a life

Of poverty, and every man or wife

Nay, every child can see our Heavenly King

Would never stoop to choose a shameful thing.

No shame in poverty if the heart is gay,

330 As Seneca and all the learned say.

He who accepts his poverty unhurt

I'd say is rich although he lacked a shirt.

But truly poor are they who whine and fret

And covet what they cannot hope to get.

335 And he that, having nothing, covets not,

"True poverty can find a song to sing.

Juvenal says a pleasant little thing:

'The poor can dance and sing in the relief

340 Of having nothing that will tempt a thief.'

Though it be hateful, poverty is good,

A great incentive to a livelihood,

And a great help to our capacity

For wisdom, if accepted patiently.

345 Poverty is, though wanting in estate,

Poverty often, when the heart is lowly,

Brings one to God and teaches what is holy,

Gives knowledge of oneself and even lends

350 A glass by which to see one's truest friends.

And since it's no offence, let me be plain;

"Lastly you taxed me, sir, with being old.

Yet even if you never had been told

355 By ancient books, you gentlemen engage

Yourselves in honour to respect old age.

To call an old man "father" shows good breeding,

And this could be supported from my reading.

"You say I'm old and fouler than a fen.

360 You need not fear to be a cuckold, then.

Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree,

Are powerful wardens upon chastity.

Nevertheless, well knowing your delights,

I shall fulfil your worldly appetites.

365 "You have two choices; which one will you try?

To have me old and ugly till I die,

But still a loyal, true and humble wife

That never will displease you all her life,

Or would you rather I were young and pretty

370 And chance your arm what happens in a city

Where friends will visit you because of me,

Yes, and in other places too, maybe.

Which would you have? The choice is all your own."

The knight thought long, and with a piteous groan

375 At last he said, with all the care in life,

"My lady and my love, my dearest wife,

I leave the matter to your wise decision.

You make the choice yourself, for the provision

Of what may be agreeable and rich

380 In honour to us both, I don't care which;

Whatever pleases you suffices me."

"And have I won the mastery?" said she,

"Since I'm to choose and rule as I think fit?"

"Certainly, wife," he answered her, "that's it."

385 "Kiss me," she cried. "No quarrels! On my oath

And word of honour, you shall find me both,

That is, both fair and faithful as a wife;

May I go howling mad and take my life

Unless I prove to be as good and true

390 As ever wife was since the world was new!

And if to-morrow when the sun's above

I seem less fair than any lady-love,

Than any queen or empress east or west,

Do with my life and death as you think best.

395 Cast up the curtain, husband. Look at me!"

And when indeed the knight had looked to see,

Lo, she was young and lovely, rich in charms.

In ecstasy he caught her in her arms,

His heart went bathing in a bath of blisses

400 And melted in a hundred thousand kisses,

And she responded in the fullest measure

With all that could delight or give him pleasure.

So they lived ever after to the end

In perfect bliss; and may Christ Jesus send

405 Us husbands meek and young and fresh in bed,

And grace to overbid them when we wed.

And-Jesu hear my prayer!-cut short the lives

Of those who won't be governed by their wives;

410 God send them soon a very pestilence!

1. Respond: Were you surprised by the outcome of this story? Why or why not?

2. (a) Compare and Contrast: According to the Wife of Bath, in what way does life in her day differ from life in King Arthur's time? (b) Deduce: What does the Wife think of this change? How do you know?

3. (a) Recall: What punishment does the king initially issue to the knight? (b) Speculate: Why might the king willingly allow his wife to effect a different punishment instead? (c) Apply: What philosophy about relationships do the king and queen share with the Wife of Bath?

4. (a) Recall: What character flaw is the tale-within-a-tale of Midas's wife meant to illustrate? (b) Evaluate: In your opinion, does this inner story undercut the main point of the Wife's tale? Explain.

5. (a) Recall: What bargain does the knight make with the old woman? (b) Analyze: Why do you think the queen forces the knight to keep his part of the bargain?

6. (a) Recall: How does the old woman define true gentility? (b) Evaluate: How effective are her arguments about gentility, poverty, and old age? (c) Apply: Do her arguments still relate to today's world? Explain.

7. (a) Recall: What final choice does the old woman offer the knight? (b) Infer: In what way does his response show that he has finally learned his lesson about the nature of women? (c) Make a Judgment: Has the knight experienced sufficient punishment and redemption for his crime? Explain.

8. Speculate: In today's society, where might you find individuals who would agree with the Wife and the philosophy she illustrates with her story? Who might argue against such opinions?

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In her own prologue to this tale, the Wife of Bath pronounces herself an "expert wife." Her experiences with her five husbands were widely varied, but it was her last husband, Johnny, who finally learned what it meant to be a good husband. With his wife's help, Johnny discovered the one elusive thing that women wanted most.

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Gawain and the Green Knight: Dael Kingsmill

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Sit yourself down by a warm fire with a cup of hot chocolate and enjoy a Christmas story from the 14th century about King Arthur and his knights of the round table, featuring Sir Gawain, a green knight, lots of other green things, and an inability to decide whether to talk in past or present tense.