Master Parson, I marvel ye will give licence To this false knave in this audience, To publish his ragman-rolls[178] with lies I desired him, i-wis, more than once or twice To hold his peace, till that I had done; But he would hear no more than the man in the moon-- PARDONER. Why should I suffer thee more than thou me? Master Parson gave me licence before thee; And I would thou knowest it, I have relics here Other manner stuff than thou dost bear. I will edify more with the sight of it, Than will all the prating of holy writ; For that except that the preacher himself live well, His predication will help never a dell, And I know well that thy living is nought: Thou art an apostate, if it were well sought. An homicide thou art, I know well enough, For myself knew where that thou slough A wench with thy dagger in a couch: And yet, as thou say'st in thy sermon, that no man shall touch. PARSON. No more of this wrangling in my church! I shrew your hearts both for this lurch: Is there any blood shed here between these knaves? Thanked be God they had no staves Nor edge-tools;[179] for then it had been wrong. Well, ye shall sing another song! Neighbour Prat, come hither, I you pray-- PRAT. Why, what is this nice fray? PARSON. I cannot tell you; one knave disdains another; Wherefore take ye the one, and I shall take the other. We shall bestow them there as is most convenient; For such a couple, I trow, they shall repent That ever they met in this church here. Neighbour, ye be constable; stand ye near, Take ye that lay knave, and let me alone With this gentleman; by God and by Saint John, I shall borrow upon priesthood somewhat; For I may say to thee, neighbour Prat, It is a good deed to punish such, to the ensample Of such other, how that they shall mell In like fashion, as these caitiffs do. PRAT. In good faith, Master Parson, if ye do so, Ye do but well to teach them to beware. PARDONER. Master Prat, I pray ye me to spare; For I am sorry for that that is done; Wherefore I pray ye forgive me soon, For that I have offended within your liberty; And by my troth, sir, ye may trust me I will never come hither more, While I live, and God before. PRAT. Nay, I am once charged with thee, Wherefore, by Saint John, thou shalt not escape me, Till thou hast scoured a pair of stocks. PARSON. Tut, he weeneth all is but mocks! Lay hand on him; and come ye on, sir friar, Ye shall of me hardly have your hire; Ye had none such this seven year, I swear by God and by our lady dear. PARDONER. Nay, Master Parson, for God's passion, Intreat[180] not me after that fashion; For, if ye do, it will not be for your honesty. PARSON. Honesty or not, but thou shall see, What I shall do by and by: Make no struggling, come forth soberly: For it shall not avail thee, I say. FRIAR.