nt, because the vices of the clergy were exposed in
it. Mr. Speight in his life of Chaucer, printed in 1602, mentions a
tale in William Thynne's first printed book of Chaucer's works more
odious to the clergy than the Plowman's Tale. One thing must not be
omitted concerning the works of Chaucer. In the year 1526 the bishop
of London prohibited a great number of books which he thought had a
tendency to destroy religion and virtue, as did also the king in 1529,
but in so great esteem were his works then, and so highly valued by
the people of taste, that they were excepted out of the prohibition of
that act.

The PARDONERS PROLOGUE.

Lordings! quoth he, in chirch when I preche,
I paine mee to have an have an hauteine speche;
And ring it out, as round as doth a bell;
For I can all by rote that I tell.
My teme is always one, and ever was,
(Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas)
First, I pronounce fro whence I come,
And then my bills, I shew all and some:
Our liege--lords seal on my patent!
That shew I first, my body to warrent;
That no man be so bold, priest ne clerk,
Me to disturb of Christ's holy werke;
And after that I tell forth my tales,
Of bulls, of popes, and of cardinales,
Of patriarkes, and of bishops I shew;
And in Latin I speake wordes a few,

To faver with my predication,
And for to stere men to devotion,
Then shew I forth my long, christall stones,
Ycrammed full of clouts and of bones;
Relickes they been, as were they, echone!
Then have I, in Latin a shoder-bone,
Which that was of an holy Jewes shepe.
Good men, fay, take of my words kepe!
If this bone be washen in any well,
If cow, or calfe, shepe, or oxe swell
That any worm hath eaten, or hem strong,
Take water of this well, and wash his tong.
And it is hole a-non: And furthermore,
Of pockes, and scabs, and every sore
Shall shepe be hole, that of this well
Drinketh a draught: Take keep of that I tell!
If that the good man, that beasts oweth,
Woll every day, ere the cocke croweth,
Fasting drink of this well, a draught,
(As thilk holy Jew our elders taught)
His beasts and his store shall multiplie:
And sirs, also it healeth jealousie,
For, though a man be fall in jealous rage,
Let make with this Water his potage,
And never shall he more his wife mistrist,
Thughe, in sooth, the defaut by her wist:
All had she taken priests two or three!
Here is a mittaine eke,