The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Pardon-Monger last brought up the Rear,
With Patriarchal face, and holy Leer.
His Hair was of the Hue of yellow Wax,
Strait and unequal as a Striek of Flax.
Yet long, and thin it grew from his large Head,
And all his brawny Shoulders overspread.
Divided into Parcels here and there,
No gaudy Hood conceal'd his golden Hair.
For that, with Care, was in his Wallet laid,
Where many Curiosities he had.

Except a little Cap, he rode all bare,
With glaring Eyes, like a new started Hare:
A holy Figure stitch'd upon his Cap,
His Wallet hung before him on his Lap,
Stuff'd and cramm'd full of Pardons, newly come,
For greedy Zealots, piping hot from Rome.
Shrill was his Voice, as any Mountain Goat;
Aloud he said his Orisons by rote.
A Beard he never had, nor e'er will have,
No Barber took the Pains, that Chin to shave.
He might have been a Gelding, or a Mare,
But never sure, from Berwick e'en to Ware,
Was Pard'ner furnish'd with such precious Geer:
For in his Male he had a Pillow-bier,
Which piously was thought our Lady's Veil;
He kept, beside, a Gobbet of the Sail
Which Peter had (and now this Pard'ner hath)
When Christ rebuked him for little Faith.
A Cross he show'd of Tin, set full of Stones,
And in a Glass, a Number of Pigs Bones.

With these, more Pardons daily he'd dispense,
In one poor Village wou'd collect more Pence,
(As by Record too plainly does appear)
Than a poor Parson lab'ring all the Year.
Then, with feign'd Flatteries and holy Tools,
He made the Parson and the People Fools.
Howe'er, to tell the Truth just as it stood,
He seem'd in Church Ecclesiastick good.
A Lesson he cou'd read, or tell a Story,
And roar the Psalter with no little Glory.
But best of all, an Offertory sung,
So loud, so chearful, that the Chapel rung.
This gain'd him Pence from the deluded Croud,
Therefore he sung so chearful, and so loud.