A Book of English Literature, Selected and Ed

Henne1 over a myle, with-in a greet village, Both man and womman, child and hyne,2

and page.

360

I trowe his habitacioun be there;
To been avysed3 greet wisdom it were,
Er that he dide a man a dishonour.”
"Ye, goddes armes," quod this ryotour,
"Is it swich peril with him for to mete? 365
I shal him seke by wey and eek by strete,
I make avow to goddes digne bones!
Herkneth, felawes, we three been al ones;5
Lat ech of us holde up his hond til other,
And ech of us bicomen otheres brother, 370
And we wol sleen this false traytour Deeth;
He shal be slayn, which that so many
sleeth,

By goddes dignitee, er it be night."

Togidres han thise three her trouthes plight,

To live and dyen ech of hem for other, 375 As though he were his owene yboren brother.

And up they sterte al dronken, in this rage, And forth they goon towardes that village, Of which the taverner had spoke biforn, And many a grisly ooth than han they 380 And Cristes blessed body they to-rente"Deeth shal be deed, if that they may him hente.”7

sworn,

That in this contree alle our frendes sleeth. Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his aspye,

Tel wher he is, or thou shalt it abye,24 By god, and by the holy sacrament! For soothly thou art oon of his assent,25 430 To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef!" "Now, sirs," quod he, "if that yow be so leef26

To finde Deeth, turne up this croked wey, For in that grove I lafte him, by my fey, Under a tree, and ther he wol abyde; 435 Nat for27 your boost 28 he wol him no-thing hyde.

See ye that ook? right ther ye shul him finde.

God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde,

And yow amende!"-thus seyde this olde

man.

And everich of thise ryotoures ran,

440

Til he cam to that tree, and ther they "Thou knowest wel thou art my sworne founde

brother,

480

485

Thy profit wol I telle thee anon.
Thou woost wel that our felawe is agon;
And heer is gold, and that ful greet plentee,
That shal departed been among us three.
But natheles, if I can shape it so
That it departed were among us two,
Hadde I nat doon a frendes torn to thee?"
That other answerde, "I noot how that
may be:

He woot10 how that the gold is with us tweye;

What shal we doon, what shal we to him seye?"

490

"Shal it be conseil?" seyde the firste shrewe, 12

"And I shal tellen thee, in wordes fewe, What we shal doon, and bringe it wel aboute."

"I graunte," quod that other, "out of doute,

But mighte this gold be caried fro this That, by my trouthe, I wol thee nat

biwreye.13

495

"Now," quod the firste, "thou woost wel we be tweye,

And two of us shul strenger be than oon. Look whan that he is set, and right anoon Arys, as though thou woldest with him pleye;

And I shal ryve him thurgh the sydes tweye

500

Whyl that thou strogelest with him as in game,

And with thy dagger look thou do the

same;

And than shal al this gold departed be, My dere freend, bitwixen me and thee; Than may we bothe our lustes al fulfille,505 And pleye at dees right at our owene wille."

And thus acorded14 been thise shrewes tweye

To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me

seye.

2 note of. • quickly.

3 jest.

'thought.

7 it seems best. 8 fist.

This yongest, which that wente un-to the toun,

Ful ofte in herte he rolleth up and doun 510 The beautee of thise florins newe and brighte.

"O lord!" quod he, "if so were that I mighte

Have al this tresor to my-self allone, Ther is no man that liveth under the trone1

Of god, that sholde live so mery as I!" 515 And atte laste the feend, our enemy, Putte in his thought that he shold poyson beye,2

With which he mighte sleen his felawes tweye;

And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon,

"Now lat us sitte and drinke, and make us merie, And afterward we wol his body berie."

555

For why the feend fond him in swich | And with that word it happed him, par

lyvinge,

That he had leve1 him to sorwe bringe, 520 For this was outrely his ful entente

To sleen hem bothe, and never to repente. And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie,

Into the toun, un-to a pothecarie,

And preyed him, that he him wolde

selle

525

cas,

That of yelownesse hadde never pere.
Ye be my lyf, ye be myn hertes stere,1
Quene of comfort and of good companye:
Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye!

Now purs, that be to me my lyves light, 15
And saveour, as doun2 in this worlde here,
Out of this toune help me through your
might,

Sin that ye wole nat been my tresorere;
For I am shave as nye3 as any frere.1
But yit I pray un-to your curtesye:
Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye!
LENVOY DE CHAUCER