𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙮 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨 (𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮)

The Knight’s Tale: Part 1 Long ago in Ancient Greece, a great conqueror and duke named Theseus ruled the city of Athens. One day, four women kneel in front of Theseus’s horse and weep, halting his passage into the city. The eldest woman informs him that they are grieving the loss of their husbands, who were killed at the siege of the city of Thebes. Creon, the lord of Thebes, has dishonored them by refusing to bury or cremate their bodies. Enraged at the ladies’ plight, Theseus marches on Thebes, which he easily conquers. After returning the bones of their husbands to the four women for the funeral rites, Theseus discovers two wounded enemy soldiers lying on the battlefield, nearing death. Rather than kill them, he mercifully heals the Theban soldiers’ injuries, but condemns them to a life of imprisonment in an Athenian tower. The prisoners, named Palamon and Arcite, are cousins and sworn brothers. Both live in the prison tower for several years. One spring morning, Palamon awakes early, looks out the window, and sees fair-haired Emelye, Theseus’s sister-in-law. She is making flower garlands, “To doon honour to May” (1047). He falls in love and moans with heartache. His cry awakens Arcite, who comes to investigate the matter. As Arcite peers out the window, he too falls in love with the beautiful flower-clad maiden. They argue over her, but eventually realize the futility of such a struggle when neither can ever leave the prison. One day, a duke named Perotheus, friend both to Theseus and Arcite, petitions for Arcite’s freedom. Theseus agrees, on the condition that Arcite be banished permanently from Athens on pain of death. Arcite returns to Thebes, miserable and jealous of Palamon, who can still see Emelye every day from the tower. But Palamon, too, grows more sorrowful than ever; he believes that Arcite will lay siege to Athens and take Emelye by force. The knight poses the question to the listeners, rhetorically: who is worse off, Arcite or Palamon? The Knight’s Tale: Part 2 Some time later, winged Mercury, messenger to the gods, appears to Arcite in a dream and urges him to return to Athens. By this time, Arcite has grown gaunt and frail from lovesickness. He realizes that he could enter the city disguised and not be recognized. He does so and takes on a job as a page in Emelye’s chamber under the pseudonym Philostrate. This puts him close to Emelye but not close enough. Wandering in the woods one spring day, he fashions garlands of leaves and laments the conflict in his heart—his desire to return to Thebes and his need to be near his beloved. As it happens, Palamon has escaped from seven years of imprisonment that very day and hears Arcite’s song and monologue while sneaking through the woods. They confront each other, each claiming the right to Emelye. Arcite challenges his old friend to a duel the next day. They meet in a field and bludgeon each other ruthlessly. Theseus, out on a hunt, finds these two warriors brutally hacking away at each other. Palamon reveals their identities and love for Emelye. He implores the duke to justly decide their fate, suggesting that they both deserve to die. Theseus is about to respond by killing them, but the women of his court—especially his queen and Emelye—intervene, pleading for Palamon and Arcite’s lives. The duke consents and decides instead to hold a tournament fifty weeks from that day. The two men will be pitted against one another, each with a hundred of the finest men he can gather. The winner will be awarded Emelye’s hand The Knight’s Tale: Part 3 Theseus prepares for the tournament by constructing an enormous stadium. By its gate, he erects three temples to the gods—one for Venus, the goddess of love; one for Mars, the god of war; and one for Diana, the goddess of chastity. The Knight provides a lengthy description of each temple. The tournament nears, spectators assemble, and both Palamon and Arcite arrive with impressive armies. The Sunday before the tournament, Palamon visits the temple of Venus and supplicates her in the night. He tells her of his desire for Emelye and requests that she bring him victory in the name of love. The statue of Venus makes an enigmatic “sign” (the reader isn’t told what the sign is), which Palamon interprets as a positive answer, and he departs confident. That dawn, Emelye also rises and goes to the temple of Diana. Desirous to remain a virgin—“a mayden al my lyf” (2305)—she begs Diana to prevent the impending marriage. But an image of Diana appears and informs her that she must marry one of the Thebans. Obedient, Emelye retires to her chamber. Arcite walks to the temple of Mars and begs the god of war for victory in the battle. He, too, receives a positive sign: the doors of the temple clang, and he hears the statue of Mars whisper, “Victorie!” (2433). Like Palamon, Arcite departs the temple in high hopes for the coming day. The scene then shifts to the gods themselves. Saturn, Venus’s father, assures her cryptically that despite Mars’s aid to Arcite, Palamon will have his lady in the end. The Knight’s Tale: Part 4 After much feasting, the spectators assemble in the stadium. The magnificent armies enter, appearing evenly matched. After Theseus has sternly delivered the rules, the bloody battle of flashing swords and maces begins. Though Palamon fights valiantly, Arcite sees his chance and brings Palamon “to the stake”—he claims him with a sword at his throat. Emelye rejoices as Theseus proclaims Arcite victorious. Venus, on the other hand, weeps with shame that her knight lost, until Saturn calms her and signals that all is not over. At Saturn’s request, the earth shakes beneath Arcite as he rides toward Theseus. The knight’s horse throws him, crushing his chest. Gravely wounded, the company transports Arcite to bed, where physicians attempt in vain to heal him. Arcite expresses his love to Emelye, and then tells her that if she decides to marry another, she should remember Palamon, who possesses the qualities of a worthy knight—“trouthe, honour, knyghthede, / Wysdom, humblesse” (2789–2790). All of Athens mourns Arcite’s death. Emelye, Theseus, and Palamon are inconsolable. Theseus’s father, Egeus, takes Theseus aside and tells him that every man must live and die—life is a journey through woe that must, at some point, come to an end. After some years pass, the mourners heal, with the exception of Emelye and Palamon, who continue to go about sorrowfully, dressed in black. During one parliament at Athens, Theseus berates the two for grieving too much. He reminds them that God ordains that all must die, and refusal to accept death is therefore folly. He requests that they cease mourning, and that his wife’s sister take Palamon for her husband and lord. They obey, and as they realize the wisdom of Theseus’s advice over many years, Emelye and Palamon enjoy a long, loving, and happy marriage. Prologue to the Miller’s Tale The pilgrims applaud the Knights Tale, and the pleased Host asks the Monk to match it. Before the Monk can utter a word, however, the Miller interrupts. Drunk and belligerent, he promises that he has a “noble” tale that will repay the Knight’s (3126). The Host tries to persuade the Miller to let some “bettre” man tell the next tale (3130). When the Miller threatens to leave, however, the Host acquiesces. After the Miller reminds everyone that he is drunk and therefore shouldn’t be held accountable for anything he says, he introduces his tale as a legend and a life of a carpenter and of his wife, and of how a clerk made a fool of the carpenter, which everyone understands to mean that the clerk slept with the carpenter’s wife (3141–3143). The Reeve shouts out his immediate objection to such ridicule, but the Miller insists on proceeding with his tale. He points out that he is married himself, but doesn’t worry whether some other man is sleeping with his wife, because it is none of his business. The narrator apologizes to us in advance for the tale’s bawdiness, and warns that those who are easily offended should skip to another tale

Summary: The Wife of Bath’s Prologue: Part 1 The Wife of Bath begins the Prologue to her tale by establishing herself as an authority on marriage, due to her extensive personal experience with the institution. Since her first marriage at the tender age of twelve, she has had five husbands. She says that many people have criticized her for her numerous marriages, most of them on the basis that Christ went only once to a wedding, at Cana in Galilee. The Wife of Bath has her own views of Scripture and God’s plan. She says that men can only guess and interpret what Jesus meant when he told a Samaritan woman that her fifth husband was not her husband. With or without this bit of Scripture, no man has ever been able to give her an exact reply when she asks to know how many husbands a woman may have in her lifetime. God bade us to wax fruitful and multiply, she says, and that is the text that she wholeheartedly endorses. After all, great Old Testament figures, like Abraham, Jacob, and Solomon, enjoyed multiple wives at once. She admits that many great Fathers of the Church have proclaimed the importance of virginity, such as the Apostle Paul. But, she reasons, even if virginity is important, someone must be procreating so that virgins can be created. Leave virginity to the perfect, she says, and let the rest of us use our gifts as best we may—and her gift, doubtless, is her sexual power. She uses this power as an “instrument” to control her husbands. At this point, the Pardoner interrupts. He is planning to marry soon and worries that his wife will control his body, as the Wife of Bath describes. The Wife of Bath tells him to have patience and to listen to the whole tale to see if it reveals the truth about marriage. Of her five husbands, three have been “good” and two have been “bad.” The first three were good, she admits, mostly because they were rich, old, and submissive. She laughs to recall the torments that she put these men through and recounts a typical conversation that she had with her older husbands. She would accuse her husband of having an affair, launching into a tirade in which she would charge him with a bewildering array of accusations. If one of her husbands got drunk, she would claim he said that every wife is out to destroy her husband. He would then feel guilty and give her what she wanted. All of this, the Wife of Bath tells the rest of the pilgrims, was a pack of lies—her husbands never held these opinions, but she made these claims to give them grief. Worse, she would tease her husbands in bed, refusing to give them full satisfaction until they promised her money. She admits proudly to using her verbal and sexual power to bring her husbands to total submission. Summary: The Wife of Bath’s Prologue: Part 2 The Wife of Bath begins her description of her two “bad” husbands. Her fourth husband, whom she married when still young, was a reveler, and he had a “paramour,” or mistress (454). Remembering her wild youth, she becomes wistful as she describes the dancing and singing in which she and her fourth husband used to indulge. Her nostalgia reminds her of how old she has become, but she says that she pays her loss of beauty no mind. She will try to be merry, for, though she has lost her “flour,” she will try to sell the “bran” that remains. Realizing that she has digressed, she returns to the story of her fourth husband. She confesses that she was his purgatory on Earth, always trying to make him jealous. He died while she was on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Of her fifth husband, she has much more to say. She loved him, even though he treated her horribly and beat her. He was coy and flattering in bed, and always won her back. Women, the Wife says, always desire what is forbidden them, and run away from whatever pursues or is forced upon them. This husband was also different from the other four because she married him for love, not money. He was a poor ex-student who boarded with the Wife’s friend and confidante. When she first met this fifth husband, Jankyn, she was still married to her fourth. While walking with him one day, she told him that she would marry him if she were widowed. She lied to him and told him he had enchanted her, and that she had dreamed that he would kill her as she slept, filling her bed with blood, which signifies gold. But, she confides to her listeners, all of this was false: she never had such a dream. She loses her place in the story momentarily, then resumes with her fourth husband’s funeral. She made a big show of crying, although, she admits, she actually cried very little since she already had a new husband lined up. As she watched Jankyn carry her husband’s casket, she fell in love with him. He was only twenty and she forty, but she was always a lusty woman and thought she could handle his youth. But, she says, she came to regret the age difference, because he would not suffer her abuse like her past husbands and gave some of his own abuse in return. He had a “book of wicked wives” she recalls, called Valerie and Theofraste. This book contained the stories of the most deceitful wives in history. It began with Eve, who brought all mankind into sin by first taking the apple in the Garden of Eden; from there, it chronicled Delilah’s betrayal of Samson, Clytemnestra’s murder of Agamemnon, and other famous stories. Jankyn would torment the Wife of Bath (whom we learn in line 804 is named Alisoun) by reading out of this book at night. One evening, out of frustration, the Wife tears three pages out of the book and punches Jankyn in the face. Jankyn repays her by striking her on the head, which is the reason, she explains in line 636, that she is now deaf in one ear. She cries out that she wants to kiss him before she dies, but when he comes over, she hits him again. They finally manage a truce, in which he hands over all of his meager estate to her, and she acts kindly and loving. Her tale of her marriages finished, the Wife announces that she will tell her story, eliciting laughter from the Friar, who exclaims, “This is a long preamble of a tale!” (831). The Summoner tells him to shut up, and they exchange some angry words. The Host quiets everybody down and allows the Wife of Bath to begin her story. Summary: The Wife of Bath’s Tale In the days of King Arthur, the Wife of Bath begins, the isle of Britain was full of fairies and elves. Now, those creatures are gone because their spots have been taken by the friars and other mendicants that seem to fill every nook and cranny of the isle. And though the friars rape women, just as the incubi did in the days of the fairies, the friars only cause women dishonor—the incubi always got them pregnant. In Arthur’s court, however, a young, lusty knight comes across a beautiful young maiden one day. Overcome by lust and his sense of his own power, he rapes her. The court is scandalized by the crime and decrees that the knight should be put to death by decapitation. However, Arthur’s queen and other ladies of the court intercede on his behalf and ask the king to give him one chance to save his own life. Arthur, wisely obedient to wifely counsel, grants their request. The queen presents the knight with the following challenge: if, within one year, he can discover what women want most in the world and report his findings back to the court, he will keep his life. If he cannot find the answer to the queen’s question, or if his answer is wrong, he will lose his head. The knight sets forth in sorrow. He roams throughout the country, posing the question to every woman he meets. To the knight’s dismay, nearly every one of them answers differently. Some claim that women love money best, some honor, some jolliness, some looks, some sex, some remarriage, some flattery, and some say that women most want to be free to do as they wish. Finally, says the Wife, some say that women most want to be considered discreet and secretive, although she argues that such an answer is clearly untrue, since no woman can keep a secret. As proof, she retells Ovid’s story of Midas. Midas had two ass’s ears growing under his hair, which he concealed from everybody except his wife, whom he begged not to disclose his secret. She swore she would not, but the secret burned so much inside her that she ran down to a marsh and whispered her husband’s secret to the water. The Wife then says that if her listeners would like to hear how the tale ends, they should read Ovid. She returns to her story of the knight. When his day of judgment draws near, the knight sorrowfully heads for home. As he rides near a forest, he sees a large group of women dancing and decides to approach them to ask his question. But as he approaches, the group vanishes, and all he can see is an ugly old woman. The woman asks if she can be of help, and the knight explains his predicament and promises to reward her if she can help him. The woman tells the knight that he must pledge himself to her in return for her help, and the knight, having no options left, gladly consents. She then guarantees that his life will be saved. The knight and the old woman travel together to the court, where, in front of a large audience, the knight tells the queen the answer with which the old woman supplied him: what women most desire is to be in charge of their husbands and lovers. The women agree resoundingly that this is the answer, and the queen spares the knight’s life. The old hag comes forth and publicly asks the knight to marry her. The knight cries out in horror. He begs her to take his material possessions rather than his body, but she refuses to yield, and in the end he is forced to consent. The two are married in a small, private wedding and go to bed together the same night. Throughout the entire ordeal, the knight remains miserable. While in bed, the loathsome hag asks the knight why he is so sad. He replies that he could hardly bear the shame of having such an ugly, lowborn wife. She does not take offense at the insult, but calmly asks him whether real “gentillesse,” or noble character, can be hereditary (1109). There have been sons of noble fathers, she argues, who were shameful and villainous, though they shared the same blood. Her family may be poor, but real poverty lies in covetousness, and real riches lie in having little and wanting nothing. She offers the knight a choice: either he can have her be ugly but loyal and good, or he can have her young and fair but also coquettish and unfaithful. The knight ponders in silence. Finally, he replies that he would rather trust her judgment, and he asks her to choose whatever she thinks best. Because the knight’s answer gave the woman what she most desired, the authority to choose for herself, she becomes both beautiful and good. The two have a long, happy marriage, and the woman becomes completely obedient to her husband. The Wife of Bath concludes with a plea that Jesus Christ send all women husbands who are young, meek, and fresh in bed, and the grace to outlive their husbands.

Introduction to the Pardoner’s Tale The Host reacts to the Physician’s Tale, which has just been told. He is shocked at the death of the young Roman girl in the tale, and mourns the fact that her beauty ultimately caused the chain of events that led her father to kill her. Wanting to cheer up, the Host asks the Pardoner to tell the group a merrier, farcical tale. The Pardoner agrees, but will continue only after he has food and drink in his stomach. Other pilgrims interject that they would prefer to hear a moral story, and the Pardoner again agrees. Prologue to the Pardoner’s Tale After getting a drink, the Pardoner begins his Prologue. He tells the company about his occupation—a combination of itinerant preaching and selling promises of salvation. His sermon topic always remains the same: Radix malorum est Cupiditas, or “greed is the root of all evil.” He gives a similar sermon to every congregation and then breaks out his bag of “relics”—which, he readily admits to the listening pilgrims, are fake. He will take a sheep’s bone and claim it has miraculous healing powers for all kinds of ailments. The parishioners always believe him and make their offerings to the relics, which the Pardoner quickly pockets. The Pardoner admits that he preaches solely to get money, not to correct sin. He argues that many sermons are the product of evil intentions. By preaching, the Pardoner can get back at anyone who has offended him or his brethren. In his sermon, he always preaches about covetousness, the very vice that he himself is gripped by. His one and only interest is to fill his ever-deepening pockets. He would rather take the last penny from a widow and her starving family than give up his money, and the good cheeses, breads, and wines that such income brings him. Speaking of alcohol, he notes, he has now finished his drink of “corny ale” and is ready to begin his tale. The Pardoner’s Tale The Pardoner describes a group of young Flemish people who spend their time drinking and reveling, indulging in all forms of excess. After commenting on their lifestyle of debauchery, the Pardoner enters into a tirade against the vices that they practice. First and foremost is gluttony, which he identifies as the sin that first caused the fall of mankind in Eden. Next, he attacks drunkenness, which makes a man seem mad and witless. Next is gambling, the temptation that ruins men of power and wealth. Finally, he denounces swearing. He argues that it so offends God that he forbade swearing in the Second Commandment—placing it higher up on the list than homicide. After almost two hundred lines of sermonizing, the Pardoner finally returns to his story of the lecherous Flemish youngsters. As three of these rioters sit drinking, they hear a funeral knell. One of the revelers’ servants tells the group that an old friend of theirs was slain that very night by a mysterious figure named Death. The rioters are outraged and, in their drunkenness, decide to find and kill Death to avenge their friend. Traveling down the road, they meet an old man who appears sorrowful. He says his sorrow stems from old age—he has been waiting for Death to come and take him for some time, and he has wandered all over the world. The youths, hearing the name of Death, demand to know where they can find him. The old man directs them into a grove, where he says he just left Death under an oak tree. The rioters rush to the tree, underneath which they find not Death but eight bushels of gold coins with no owner in sight. At first, they are speechless, but, then, the slyest of the three reminds them that if they carry the gold into town in daylight, they will be taken for thieves. They must transport the gold under cover of night, and so someone must run into town to fetch bread and wine in the meantime. They draw lots, and the youngest of the three loses and runs off toward town. As soon as he is gone, the sly plotter turns to his friend and divulges his plan: when their friend returns from town, they will kill him and therefore receive greater shares of the wealth. The second rioter agrees, and they prepare their trap. Back in town, the youngest vagrant is having similar thoughts. He could easily be the richest man in town, he realizes, if he could have all the gold to himself. He goes to the apothecary and buys the strongest poison available, then puts the poison into two bottles of wine, leaving a third bottle pure for himself. He returns to the tree, but the other two rioters leap out and kill him. They sit down to drink their friend’s wine and celebrate, but each happens to pick up a poisoned bottle. Within minutes, they lie dead next to their friend. Thus, concludes the Pardoner, all must beware the sin of avarice, which can only bring treachery and death. He realizes that he has forgotten something: he has relics and pardons in his bag. According to his custom, he tells the pilgrims the value of his relics and asks for contributions—even though he has just told them the relics are fake. He offers the Host the first chance to come forth and kiss the relics, since the Host is clearly the most enveloped in sin (942). The Host is outraged and proposes to make a relic out of the Pardoner’s genitals, but the Knight calms everybody down. The Host and Pardoner kiss and make up, and all have a good laugh as they continue on their way.

The Miller’s Prologue The Miller says that he will tell a legend about a cuckolded carpenter and his wife. The Reeve, himself a carpenter, angrily protests, but the Miller says that the Reeve should not take the tale so personally––unless, of course, the Reeve has reason to do so. Indeed, says the Miller, he himself has a wife, but he doesn’t ask her too many questions. The Miller presents his tale as though he will be describing the life of a saint, but the story he tells is bawdy and full of raunchy jokes. The Reeve thinks that the Miller is directly insulting him because the tale is all about carpenters. The narrator apologizes for the bawdy, raunchy nature of the Miller’s tale and tells the reader that if he does not want to hear it, he can turn over the page and read the next story. Summary In Oxford there lives a rich old carpenter. Boarding at his house is a poor young scholar, Nicholas, who is very learned in astrology and can also sing well. The carpenter is very jealous of his eighteen-year-old wife, Alison, who is pretty and flirtatious: the Miller describes her as a frisky young flower. One day, Nicholas begins to flirt with Alison. Nicholas grabs her, and though she cries out at first in protest, he coaxes her sweetly and she gives in. However, since the carpenter is such a jealous man, they agree to wait until they can make love in secrecy. Nicholas is confident that, as an educated clerk, he will be able to outwit the carpenter. On the next holiday, Alison goes to the parish church, where another young clerk, Absolon, spies her. Absolon is vain and finely dressed, with curled hair and a fashionable tunic. His one fault, the Miller says, is his squeamishness: Absolon doesn’t like to fart in public. Absolon is smitten with “love language”: if Alison had been a mouse and he a cat, he would have pounced. Absolon serenades Alison underneath her window, brings her gifts, and showers her with money, but to no avail––Alison loves Nicholas, and Absolon might as well be her pet monkey. One Saturday, the carpenter travels to nearby Osney, and Alison and Nicholas form a plan to spend the night together. Nicholas tells Alison to have a day’s worth of meat and drink brought to him in his room and to tell her husband if he asks, that she does not know where he (Nicholas) is. When the carpenter returns on Sunday, he wonders about Nicholas and asks a servant to check on him. After knocking and receiving no reply, the servant peeks through a hole in the door that the cat uses to get in and out and sees Nicholas sitting upright, gaping at the moon. The carpenter is convinced that Nicholas has gone mad due to his study of astronomy and declares that this is what men get for inquiring too closely into “Goddes pryvytee.” The carpenter and the servant break down Nicholas’s door and find the scholar sitting still as a stone, gazing into the air. The carpenter shakes Nicholas, saying prayers and calling on Christ to arouse him from his trance. Finally, Nicholas speaks, telling the carpenter that he has had a vision from God. Nicholas says that he has discovered through his astrology that on the next Monday night, there will be a wild rainstorm twice as great as Noah’s flood. All mankind, he says, shall die. The carpenter cries out, “Alas, my wife! / And shal she drenches?” Nicholas replies that he knows a remedy and that if the carpenter follows his orders, they will all––including Alison––survive the flood. After swearing the carpenter to secrecy, Nicholas tells him to get three tubs, instructing him to fill them with enough food to survive for a day (the water, he explains, will subside the next day) and to hang them high from the roof. The carpenter must also bring an axe so that when the waters subside, they can cut the tubs loose and float away. They will climb into the tubs before nightfall, says Nicholas, and they will not speak a word to each other the entire time. The carpenter and Alison, Nicholas says, must not hang next to each other so that they will not be tempted to sin. Weeping and wailing, the gullible carpenter leaves to make his preparations, telling Alison everything in strictest confidence (although she, of course, knows the whole plan already). On Monday night, the carpenter, Nicholas, and Alison climb into their tubs and say their prayers. The carpenter falls asleep, and Nicholas and Alison promptly hop out of their tubs and tumble into bed with each other. That same Monday, Absolon happens to be in Osney, and, inquiring after the carpenter is told that he is either out of town gathering timber or at home. Absolon, who has been by the carpenter’s house and has not seen him there, decides that he will go there at dawn and confess his love to Alison. Absolon chews cardamom and licorice to sweeten his breath, and at the first cock’s crow, he knocks on Alison’s window and begs for a kiss. She rebuffs him, saying that she loves another. Absolon begs her, and she opens the window, telling him to come quickly. He carefully wipes his mouth dry, but in the pitch-dark, he kisses her “naked ers” that she has stuck out the window. Alison and Nicholas laugh as the furious Absolon rubs his lips with dust and woodchips. Screaming and cursing, Absolon goes to his friend the blacksmith, and borrows a hot iron. He returns to the window, knocks, and tells Alison that he has brought her a gold ring and that he will give it to her in exchange for a real kiss. Nicholas, who has gotten out of bed to urinate, sticks his rear end out the window. Absolon tells Alison to speak so that she can let him know where she is, and Nicholas lets fly a fart as loud as thunder. Though nearly blinded, Absolon strikes Nicholas’s rear with the hot poker and brands the skin. Nicholas cries for help and water. The carpenter wakens at the cry of “water!” and, thinking that the flood is coming, cuts the cord, and his tub crashes to the floor. The carpenter lies in a swoon, his arm broken. The neighbors rush in to see the spectacle. Nicholas and Alison tell everyone that the carpenter is crazy, and no one will listen to the carpenter’s story about Noah’s flood. The townspeople all laugh. The Miller sums up the tale: the carpenter’s wife has been “swyved” by Nicholas, despite the carpenter’s jealousy; Absolon has kissed her lower regions; and Nicholas has been scalded in the buttocks. “God save all the route!” says the Miller.

The Reeve’s Prologue Everyone laughs at the Miller’s Tale except Oswald the Reeve, a carpenter by craft, who takes the story personally. The Reeve retorts that if he wanted to, he could tell a dirty story about millers, but that since he is an old man, there isn’t much point. The Reeve, a carpenter, takes the Miller’s Tale not as a parody of the Knight’s Tale but as a personal insult against all carpenters. The Host makes fun of the Reeve for giving the company a sermon of self-pity. The Reeve changes his mind and decides to tell a dirty story about millers in retaliation. The Reeve's Tale Symkyn is a bald, pug-nosed miller who lives near Cambridge and swindles all his customers. The miller's wife was raised in nunnery, and stinks with pride at her expensive upbringing. They have a fat, pug-nosed twenty-year-old daughter and a six-month-old infant. The miller intends to marry the daughter into a family of worthy ancestry. One day, the manciple of a school in Cambridge, who regularly grinds Symkyn’s grain, gets sick. Symkyn takes this opportunity to steal all kinds of corn and wheat: where he had once stolen “but curteisly”, he now is a “theef outrageously.” Two young scholars, John and Aleyn, who come from a town in northern England, get permission from the headmaster to try and stop Symkyn from stealing more grain. The scholars ask the miller to explain every step of the grain-grinding process. The wily miller realizes that they’re policing his activities, and he unties their horse and looses it into a field of wild mares. When the clerks realize that their horse is missing, they spend all day chasing it in the field to get it back, which gives Symkyn plenty of time to steal flour from them. Since they have spent the whole day trying to catch their horse, Aleyn and John pay Symkyn to lodge for the night at his house. Everyone goes to his or her respective beds in the same room. The miller, who is drunk, and the miller's wife go to bed with the infant’s cradle at their feet. The miller’s daughter, Aleyn, and John also go to bed. To take revenge against Symkyn, Aleyn decides to have sex with the miller’s daughter. John, not to be outdone, takes the cradle and puts it at the foot of his own bed. The miller’s wife wakes up to urinate, and when she comes back, she climbs into the bed with the cradle at the foot of it. Of course, this is John’s bed, and John and the miller’s wife have sex. Early in the morning, Aleyn creeps out of the miller’s daughter’s bed, but first the miller’s daughter tells him about half a bushel of meal that she has helped to steal from her father for the clerks to have. Aleyn then gets into how own bed, or thinks he does—he, too, is tricked by the cradle and ends up getting in bed with Symkyn instead of John. Thinking he is talking to John, Aleyn brags that he has slept with the miller’s daughter. However, he is actually talking to Symkyn himself. The miller, outraged, punches Aleyn in the nose. As the men fight, the miller tumbles onto the bed that his wife and John are in. The miller's wife wakes up and tries to help her husband by hitting the clerks with a staff, but she mistakes Symkyn’s bald head with their white caps and end up hitting her husband by accident. Aleyn and John beat up Symkyn, grab the grain that the miller’s daughter had told them about, and make their escape. Thus, says the Reeve, the proud miller is bested: Aleyn and John have slept with the miller's wife and with his daughter and have swindled the swindler, and the Reeve has gotten his revenge against the Miller.

The Pardoner’s Prologue Deeply moved by the Physician’s sad story, which the company has just heard, the Host turns to the Pardoner for a merry tale. The company, however, wants to hear a story with a good moral, and the Pardoner says he will give them what they want after he has a drink. The Pardoner says that every sermon he gives is always on the same theme: “Radix malorum est Cupiditas,” or “Greed is the root of all evils.” In these sermons, he shows his bag of fake relics to the congregation. He claims that sheep bones can cure ailments. The parishioners always believe him, and he tricks them into buying trinkets and hocus-pocus charms. It doesn’t bother the pardoner that when his congregation has been buried, their souls are left to wander: he is in the business of making money, not absolving sins. In his sermons, the Pardoner always preaches about greed, the same sin that he himself freely admits possessing. Do as I say, not as I do, the Pardoner preaches: although he is guilty of avarice, he warns people about the dangers of covetousness through lots of examples. However, he himself would rather take a penny from a starving widow than give up his creature comforts. Having finished his ale, the Pardoner begins his tale. The Pardoner’s Tale In Flanders, there were three young men who loved to amuse themselves by singing, reveling, and drinking. The Pardoner launches into a long criticism about their sinful lives, citing many Biblical examples as support. First, he denounces their gluttony, which he says caused the fall of Man. He next decries their drunkenness, which makes men witless and lecherous. He then denounces their gambling: dice, he says, are the mothers of lies. The Pardoner criticizes the swearing of false oaths, saying that cursing and perjury are wretched. Finally, after his long tirade, the Pardoner returns to the three young rioters, who are drinking at a tavern when they hear the bell signaling the sound of a passing coffin. A servant tells them that the dead man was a friend of the revelers who had been stabbed in the night by a thief called Death. The revelers declare that they will seek and slay this false traitor Death. They pledge to be true to each other as brothers in this quest. The revelers meet an old man in rags who says that he must wander the earth restlessly because Death will not take his life. He makes a move to leave, but the rioters demand that he tell them where they can find Death. The old man says that he has just left Death a moment ago sitting under an oak tree. The youths run down the crooked path to the tree, where they find not Death but eight bushels of gold. The worst of the rioters speaks first, saying that this is their lucky day, but if they take the treasure down to the town by daylight, they will be accused as thieves, and therefore they must wait for nightfall to move the gold. He proposes that they draw straws, and whichever one gets the short straw must go to town to get food and drink so they can wait out the day. The youngest draws the short straw and leaves. While he is away, the other two rioters plot to kill the third when he returns so that the two of them will each get a bigger share of the treasure. Meanwhile, the youngest decides to poison the other two revelers so that he can keep all the money for himself. He goes to an apothecary, buys the strongest poison available, and pours it into two bottles, keeping a third clean for himself. When the youngest reveler returns, the two others slay him. Then, celebrating, they drink the poisoned wine. Thus, all three of the revelers die. Everyone must therefore beware sins, says the Pardoner, especially greed, which is the root of all evils. In Flanders, there were three young men who loved to amuse themselves by singing, reveling, and drinking. The Pardoner launches into a long criticism about their sinful lives, citing many Biblical examples as support. First, he denounces their gluttony, which he says caused the fall of Man. He next decries their drunkenness, which makes men witless and lecherous. He then denounces their gambling: dice, he says, are the mothers of lies. The Pardoner criticizes the swearing of false oaths, saying that cursing and perjury are wretched. Although the Pardoner himself hardly leads a spotless life, he bashes the protagonists of his tale for their sinful ways, spelling out all the various reasons why gluttony, drunkenness, gambling, and cursing are so terrible. He himself is a hypocrite, but he uses his Tale as a moral example. Finally, after his long tirade, the Pardoner returns to the three young rioters, who are drinking at a tavern when they hear the bell signaling the sound of a passing coffin. A servant tells them that the dead man was a friend of the revelers who had been stabbed in the night by a thief called Death. The revelers declare that they will seek and slay this false traitor Death. They pledge to be true to each other as brothers in this quest. The revelers’ belief that they can slay Death himself demonstrates their extreme hubris. Rather than mourning their friend, they rashly seek their own glory. Although they here pledge that they will be brothers in their quest, as the story progresses it doesn't take much to dissolve their own bond. "Rioters" was a term for rambunctious young men. The revelers meet an old man in rags who says that he must wander the earth restlessly because Death will not take his life. He makes a move to leave, but the rioters demand that he tell them where they can find Death. The old man says that he has just left Death a moment ago sitting under an oak tree. The youths run down the crooked path to the tree, where they find not Death but eight bushels of gold. The old man in rags is a typical character in a parable, a prophet-like figure who gives the travelers information that turns out to be dangerous. Instead of the figure of Death that they expect to find, the three revelers find bushels of gold that ultimately lead them to their deaths through their greed. The worst of the rioters speaks first, saying that this is their lucky day, but if they take the treasure down to the town by daylight, they will be accused as thieves, and therefore they must wait for nightfall to move the gold. He proposes that they draw straws, and whichever one gets the short straw must go to town to get food and drink so they can wait out the day. The revelers immediately decide to keep the treasure for themselves rather than try to find out if it belongs to anyone, and this first greedy action sets off a chain reaction of escalating greed. The youngest draws the short straw and leaves. While he is away, the other two rioters plot to kill the third when he returns so that the two of them will each get a bigger share of the treasure. Meanwhile, the youngest decides to poison the other two revelers so that he can keep all the money for himself. He goes to an apothecary, buys the strongest poison available, and pours it into two bottles, keeping a third clean for himself. A third of the treasure is not enough for the rioters: even though the third will make each of them far richer than he was before, they each immediately see ways to become richer still. The bonds of brotherhood that they swore to each other disappear in the face of their greed. When the youngest reveler returns, the two others slay him. Then, celebrating, they drink the poisoned wine. Thus, all three of the revelers die. Everyone must therefore beware sins, says the Pardoner, especially greed, which is the root of all evils. All of the rioters meet their demise due to their gluttonous, avaricious ways, giving the Pardoner the chance to remind the listeners (and reader) yet again that greed is the root of all evils. The Pardoner shows his relics and pardons to the pilgrims and asks for contributions, even though he has just admitted that they are all fakes. The Pardoner first offers his relics to the Host, as the man “moost envoluped in synne,” and the Host reacts violently to the suggestion. The Knight must step in to resolve the conflict, telling the Host and the Pardoner to kiss and make up.