"Nay, nay," quoth he, "then have I Christe's curse!
Let be," quoth he, "it shall not be, so the'ch.
Thou wouldest make me kiss thine olde breech,
And swear it were a relic of a saint,
Though it were with thy fundament depaint'.
But, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,
I would I had thy coilons in mine hand,
Instead of relics, or of sanctuary.
Let cut them off, I will thee help them carry;
They shall be shrined in a hogge's turd."
The Pardoner answered not one word;
So wroth he was, no worde would he say.

"Now," quoth our Host, "I will no longer play
With thee, nor with none other angry man."
But right anon the worthy Knight began
(When that he saw that all the people lough),
"No more of this, for it is right enough.
Sir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer;
And ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear,
I pray you that ye kiss the Pardoner;
And, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,
And as we didde, let us laugh and play."
Anon they kiss'd, and rode forth their way.

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