Tel us a tale, for thou canst many oon.
It schal be doon, quod he, and that anoon.
But first, quod he, her at this ale-stake[175]
I wil bothe drynke and byten on a cake.
“Tell us a tale; thou knowest many an one.”
“I will!” he said; “it shall at once be done.
But first,” he added, “here at this ale-stake
I’ll take a drink, and have a bite of cake.”

By seinte Mary, sayde this taverner,innkeeper
The child saith soth, for he hath slayn this yeer,true
Hens over a myle, withinne a gret village,
Bothe man and womman, child, and hyne, and page.labourer
“By holy Mary,” said the innkeeper,
“The child says true, for he hath slain this year,
Within a mile hence, in a large village,
Both man and woman, servant, child, and page.

Herkneth, felaws, we thre ben all oones,hearken, be
Let ech of us hold up his hond[178] to other,hand
And ech of us bycome otheres brother;
And we wil slee this false traitour Deth;
He shall be slayne, that so many sleeth.slain, slayeth
“Now listen, mates, for all we three are one,
Let each hold up his hand unto the other,
And each of us become the others’ brother.
And we will slay this sneaking traitor Death,
He shall be slain, he that so many slay’th.”

Right as thay wolde han torned over a style,turned
Whan thai han goon nought fully half a myle,
An old man and a pore with hem mette.
This olde man ful mekely hem grette,[179]meekly, greeted
And saide thus, Lordynges, God yow se!God see you
The proudest of these ryotoures threrioters
Answerd ayein, What, carle, with sory grace,churl
Why artow al for-wrapped save thi face?[180]—wrapped up
Why lyvest thou longe in so great an age?
This olde man gan loke on his visage,began, look
And saide thus: For that I can not fyndebecause
A man—though that I walke into Inde—
Neither in citÉ noon, ne in village,
That wol chaunge his youthe for myn age;
And therfore moot I have myn age stille
As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille,
Ne Deth, allas! ne wil not have my lif,
Thus walk I lik a resteles caytif,[181]
And on the ground, which is my modres gate,
I knokke with my staf, erly and late,
And saye, Leeve moder, let me in.dear
Lo, how I wane, fleisch, and blood, and skyn—
Allas, whan schuln my boones ben at rest?shall, bones
Moder, with yow wil I chaunge my chest,
That in my chamber longe tyme hath be,
Ye, for an haire clout[182] to wrap-in me.enwrap
But, yet to me sche wol not do that grace,favour
For which ful pale and welkid is my face.withered
But sires, to yow it is no curtesye
To speke unto an old man vilonye,
But he trespas in word or elles in dede.unless, else
In holy writ ye may yourself wel rede,read
Ayens an old man, hoor upon his hede,in presence of
Ye schold arise: wherefor I you redeexhort
Ne doth unto an old man more harm now,do not
Namore than ye wolde men dede to yow
In age, if that ye may so long abyde.live so long
And God be with you, wherso ye go or ryde!walk
I moot go thider as I have to goo.thither
Nay, olde cherl, by God thou shalt not so,
Sayde that other hasardour anoon,
Thou partist nought so lightly, by seint Johan!departest, easily
Thou spak right now of thilke traitour Deth,
That in this contrÉ alle our frendes sleth;
Have her my trouth, as thou art his aspye;here
Tel wher he is, or elles thou schalt dye.[183]
Just as they were about to cross a stile,
When they had gone not fully half a mile,
A poor and aged man did meet them there.
This old man greeted them with civil air,
And said, “Good day, my lords, God look on ye.”
Then the most arrogant of the noisy three
Answered him thus—“What, churl, with sorry grace,
Why art thou all wrapped up except thy face?
Why livest thou so long, and art so grey?”
The old man looked him in the face straightway,
And answer’d thus: “Because I cannot find
A man—e’en though I walk’d as far as Inde—
Neither in any city, nor villÀge,
Willing to change his youth for mine old age;
And therefore must I have my old age still
As long a time as it is heaven’s will.
Nor will e’en Death receive my life, alas!
Thus like a restless wayfarer I pass,
And on the ground, which is my mother’s gate,
Keep knocking with my staff early and late,
And say to her—‘Dear mother, let me in.
Lo, how I vanish, flesh and blood and skin—
Alas, when shall my bones remain at rest?
Mother, I want to change with you my chest,
Which in my room so long a time hath been,
Yea, for a cloth of hair to wrap me in!’
But yet to me she will not do that grace,
Wherefore so pale and wrinkled is my face.
“But, sirs, in you it is no courtesy
To speak to an old man disdainfully,
Unless he shall offend in word or deed.
In Holy Writ ye may your own selves read,
Before an aged man whose hair is grey
Ye should rise up—and therefore I you pray
Offer to an old man no mischief now
More than you would that men did unto you
In your old age, if you so long abide,
And God be with you, whither you walk or ride!
I must go on, whither I have to go.”
“Nay, thou old churl, thou shalt not quit us so.”
Cried out the other rioter anon,
“Thou partest not so lightly, by St. John!
Thou hast just spoken of that traitor Death
Who all our friends through all the country slay’th,
So now I warrant thee, thou art his spy;
Tell where he is, this Death, or thou shall die.

Now, sires, than if that yow be so leef
To fynde Deth, torn up this croked way,
For in that grove I laft him,[184] by my fay,
Under a tree, and ther he wil abyde.remain
Ne for your bost he nyl him no thing hyde.boast
Se ye that ook? right ther ye schuln him fynde.
God save yow, that bought agein mankynde,again
And yow amend. Thus sayth this olde man,
And everich of these riotoures ran,every one
Til thay come to the tre, and ther thay founde
Of florins fyn of gold ycoyned rounde,coined
Wel neygh a seven busshels, as hem thoughte.
No lenger thanne after Deth thay soughte,
But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte,
For that the florens so faire were and brighte,
That doun thai sette hem by the precious hord.
The werste[185] of hem he spake the firste word.
Bretheren, quod he, take kepe what I schal saye,
My witte is gret, though that I bourde and playe,wisdom, jest
This tresour hath fortune to us yiven,given
In mirth and jolytÉ our lif to lyven,jollity, live
And lightly as it comth, so wil we spende.cometh
Ey, Goddis precious dignite, who wendesupposed
Today, that we schuld have so fair a grace?
But mighte this gold be caried fro this place
Hom to myn hous, or ellis unto youres,
(For wel I wot that this gold is nought oures),know
Than were we in heyh felicitÉ.high
But trewely by day it may not be,
Men wolde saye that we were theves stronge,
And for our tresour doon us for to honge.have us hanged
This tresour moste caried be by nighte
As wysly and as slely as it mighte.
Wherfore I rede, that cut among us alleadvise
We drawe, and let se wher the cut wil falle,
And he that hath the cut, with herte blithe,blithe heart
Shal renne to the toun, and that ful swithe,run, quickly
And bring us bred and wyn ful prively,
And tuo of us shal kepe subtilly
This tresour wel: and if he wol not tarie,delay
Whan it is night, we wol this tresour carie,[186]
By oon assent, ther as us liketh best.wither
That oon of hem the cut brought in his fest,fist
And bad hem drawe and loke wher it wil falle,look
And it fel on the yongest of hem alle,
And forth toward the toun he went anoon.at once
And al so soone as that he was agoon,
That oon of hem spak thus unto that other:
Thou wost wel that thou art my sworne brother,
Thy profyt wol I telle the anoon.directly
Thou wost wel that our felaw is agoon,knowest
And her is gold, and that ful gret plente,plenty
That schal departed be among us thre.
But natheles if I can schape it so
That it departed were betwix us tuo,
Hadde I not doon a frendes torn to the?
That other answerd, I not how that may be;know not
He wot wel that the gold is with us twaye,two
What schulde we than do? what schulde we saye?say
Schal it be counsail?[187] sayd the ferste schrewe,wicked person
And I schal telle thee in wordes fewe
What we schul doon, and bringe it wel aboute.do
I graunte, quod that other, without doute,
That by my trouthe I wil thee nought bywraye.betray
Now, quoth the first, thou wost wel we ben twaye,knowest
And two of us schal strenger be than oon.
Loke, whanne he is sett, thou right anoon[188]look
Arys, as though thou woldest with him pleye,[189]wouldest
And I schal ryf him through the sydes tweye,rip
Whils that thou strogelest with him as in game,
And with thi dagger, loke thou do the same.
And than schal al the gold departed be,divided
My dere frend, bitwixe the and me:thee
Than may we oure lustes al fulfille,might
And pley at dees right at our owne wille.dice
“Now, sirs,” quoth he, “if you so eager be
To seek for Death, turn up this crooked way,
For in that grove I left him, by my fay,
Under a tree, and there he will abide,
Nor for your noise and boasting will he hide.
See ye that oak? close there his place you’ll find,
God save you, sirs, that hath redeem’d mankind,
And mend you all”—thus said the aged man.
And thereupon each of the rioters ran
Until they reach’d the tree, and there they found
A heap of golden florins, bright and round,
Well-nigh seven bushels of them, as they thought.
And then no longer after Death they sought,
But each of them so glad was at the sight,
The florins were so beauteous and so bright,
That down they sat beside the precious hoard.
The worst one was the first to speak a word.
“Brothers,” said he, “take heed of what I say,
For I am wise, although I jest and play,
This treasure makes our fortune, so that we
May lead our lives in mirth and jollity,
And lightly as it comes, we’ll lightly spend.
By heaven! who would have thought that luck would send
Us three good friends to-day so fair a grace?
But could this gold be carried from this place
Home to my house, or else to one of yours
(For all this gold I well know is not ours)
Then were we in complete felicity.
But, truly, during day it cannot be,
People would call us thieves, and possibly
Hang us for our own treasure on a tree.
This treasure should be carried off by night,
As cleverly and slily as it might.
I counsel then, that we among us all
Draw lots, and see to whom the lot will fall,
And he that hath the lot shall cheerfully
Go back into the town, and speedily,
And bring us bread and wine full privily;
Meanwhile we two keep safe and secretly
This treasure here: and if he do not tarry,
When the night comes we will the treasure carry,
By one assent, where we think best, or list.”
This man then held the lots within his fist,
And bade them draw and see where it would fall;
It fell upon the youngest of them all,
Who therefore toward the town went forth anon.
As soon as their companion was gone
The first one subtly spoke unto the other:
“Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother,
I’ll tell thee what thy profit is to-day.
Thou seest that our fellow is away,
And here is gold, all heap’d up plenteously,
Which is to be divided ’mong us three.
But, nevertheless, if I can shape it so
That it might be divided ’mong us two,
Have I not done a friend’s turn unto thee?”
“I know not,” said the other, “how that may be;
He knows quite well the gold is with us two,
What should we say to him? what should we do?”
“Shall it be counsel?” said the first again—
“And in a few words I shall tell thee plain,
What we shall do to bring the thing about.”
“I promise,” said the other, “without doubt
That I, for one, will not be treacherous.”
“Now,” said the first one, “there are two of us,
And two of us will stronger be than one.
Look, thou, when he is sitting down, and soon
Rise up, as if to play with him, and I
Will stab him through the two sides suddenly,
While thou art struggling with him as in game,
And with thy dagger, look, thou do the same.
And then shall all this gold divided be,
My dearest friend, betwixt thyself and me:
Then all our wants and whims we can fulfil,
And play at dice according to our will.”

‘For this witterly was his ful entente—
To slen hem bothe and never to repente.’

This yongest, which that wente to the toun,who
Full fast in hert he rollith up and dounclose
The beaute of these florins, newe and brighte.
O Lord, quoth he, if so were that I mighte
Have all this gold unto myself alloone,
Ther is no man that lyveth under the troonethrone
Of God, that schulde lyve so mery as I.
And atte last the feend, oure enemy,
Put in his thought that he schulde poysoun beye,buy
With which he mighte sle his felawes tweye.slay
For why? the feend fond him in such lyvynge
That he hadde leve to sorwe him to brynge:sorrow
For this was outrely[190] his ful entente
To slen hem bothe, and never to repente.slay
And forth he goth, no lenger wold he tarye,delay
Into the toun unto a potecarye,apothecary
And prayde him that he him wolde selle
Som poysoun, that he might his rattis quelle;rats
And eek ther was a polkat in his hawefarmyard
That, as he sayde, his capouns had i-slawe,
And said he wold him wreke, if that he mighte,avenge
Of vermyn, that destroyed hem by nighte.
Thapotecary answerd,[191]Thou schalt havethe apothecary
A thing that, also God my soule save,
In al this world ther nys no creature
That ete or dronk hath of this confecture—mixture
Nought but the mountaunce of a corn of whete—amount
That he ne schuld his lif anoon for-lete;quit
Ye, sterve he schal, and that in lasse whiledie
Than thou wilt goon a paas not but a myle,step
This poysoun is so strong and violent.
This cursed man hath in his hond i-hentcaught or taken
This poysoun in a box, and sins he ranthen
Into the nexte stret unto a man
And borwed of him large boteles thre,
And in the two his poysoun poured he:
The thrid he kepede clene for his drynke,third, clean
For al the night he schop him for to swynkeprepared, labour
In carying of the gold out of that place.
And whan this riotour, with sorry grace,rioter
Hath fillid with wyn his grete botels thre,
To his felaws ayein repaireth he.again
What nedith it therof to sermoun more?sermonize
For right as they hadde cast[192] his deth bifore,arranged
Right so thay han him slayn, and that anoon.have
And whan this was i-doon, thus spak that oon:spake, one
Now let us drynke and sitte, and make us mery,
And afterwards[193] we wil his body bery.will
And with that word[193] it happed him par casby chance
To take the botel ther the poysoun was,wherein
And drank, and yaf his felaw drink also,gave
For which anon thay stervede bothe two.soon, died
But certes I suppose that Avycen[194]certainly
Wrot never in canoun, ne in non fen,wrote
Mo wonder sorwes of empoisonyngwondrous pangs
Than hadde these wrecches tuo or here endyng.
Thus endid been these homicides tuo,be
And eek the fals empoysoner also.also
The youngest, who had gone into the town,
Deep in his mind he turneth up and down
The beauty of these florins, new and bright.
“O Lord,” quoth he, “if any-wise I might
Have all this treasure to myself alone,
There is no man that dwelleth under the throne
Of God, who then should live so merry as I.”
And at the last the fiend, our enemy,
Put in his thought that he should poison buy,
With which to cause his comrades both to die.
For why? the fiend found this man’s life so foul
That he had power now upon his soul:
For this was utterly his fix’d intent
To slay them both and never to repent
And forth he goes, no longer would he tarry,
Into the town to an apothecary,
And begged him plausibly that he would sell
Him poison strong enough the rats to quell;
Also, there was a polecat in his yard
Which had destroy’d his capons, he averr’d,
And he would gladly rid him if he might
Of vermin, which destroy’d them in the night.
The apothecary answered, “Thou shalt have
Something so strong, as God my soul shall save,
That in this world nothing that living is
Who in his food doth eat or drink of this—
Nay, but the greatness of a grain of wheat—
Shall fail to die, his life shall be forfeit;
Yea, he shall die, and that in lesser while
Than thou shalt walk a step beyond a mile,
This poison is so strong and violent.”
This cursÉd man hath taken it and pent
The poison in a box, and forthwith ran
Hastily to the next street, to a man
And borrow’d of him some large bottles three,
And into two the poison pourÉd he:
The third he kept untainted for himself,
Meaning to toil at carrying his pelf
From out that cursed place the whole night long.
And when this villain, bent on doing wrong,
Had filled his three great bottles up with wine,
Back to his mates he went, as if to dine.
What need is there of saying any more?
For as they had devised his death before,
E’en so they slew him, and with brief delay.
And when the deed was done, the first did say,
“Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry,
And afterwards we will his body bury.”
And speaking thus, he chanced, upon the minute,
To take a bottle which had poison in it,
And drank, and gave his fellow drink beside,
Whereby within a little space they died.
But truly I suppose that Avicen
Did ne’er describe in canon or in fen
More frightful pains of deadly poisoning,
Than these two wretches felt in perishing.
Thus ended both the wicked homicides,
And that false-hearted poisoner besides.