And therefore moot I han myn age stille,
As longe time as it is Goddes wille.

"Ne deeth, allas! ne wol nat han my lyf;
Thus walk I, lyk a restelees caityf,

And on the ground, which is my modres gate,
I knokke with my staf, bothe erly and late,
And seye, 'Leve moder, leet me in !
Lo, how I vanish, flesh, and blood, and skin!
Allas! whan shul my bones been at reste?
Moder, with yow wolde I chaunge my cheste,
That in my chambre longe tyme hath be,
Ye! for an heyre clout to wrappe me!'
But yet to me she wol nat do that grace,
For which ful pale and welked is my face.
"But, sirs, to yow it is no curteisye
To speken to an old man vileinye,
But he trespasse in worde, or elles in dede.
In holy writ ye may your-self wel rede,

Agayns an old man, hoor upon his heed,

Ye sholde aryse;' wherfor I yeve yow reed,

I must keep my age as long as it is God's will.

"Even death, alas! will not have my life; so I keep going, like a restless wretch, and on the ground, which is my mother's gate, I knock with my staff early and late, saying, 'Dear mother [Earth], let me in! Lo, how I waste away, - flesh, and blood, and skin! Alas! when shall my bones be at rest? Mother, I'd like to exchange the chest that hath been a long time in my chamber for a hairy shroud to wrap me in!' But yet she will not do me that favor, because of which my face is very pale and withered.

“But, sirs, it is not courteous of you to speak rudely to an old man, unless he do you wrong in word or deed. In Holy Writ you yourselves may read, ‘In the presence of an old man, hoary-headed, you should rise;' wherefore I counsel you, do no harm to an old man now, any more than you would

"Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shalt nat so,"
Seyde this other hasardour anon;

"Thou partest nat so lightly, by Seint John!
Thou spak right now of thilke traitour Deeth,
That in this contree alle our frendes sleeth.
Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his aspye,
Tel wher he is, or thou shalt it abye,
By God, and by the holy sacrament!
For soothly thou art oon of his assent,
To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef !"

"Now, sirs," quod he, "if that yow be so leef
To finde Deeth, turne up this croked wey,
For in that grove I lafte him, by my fey,
Under a tree, and ther he wol abyde;

Nat for your boost he wol hym no-thing hyde.

that men do to you in old age, if you linger so long; and God be with you, wherever you go. I must be going."

"Nay, old churl, by God, thou shalt not do so," said the second gambler; "thou shalt not go so easily, by Saint John! thou didst speak just now of that traitor Death, who slays all our friends in this country. Have here my true word: as thou art his spy, tell me where he is, or thou shalt pay dearly for it, by God, and by the holy sacrament! For truly thou art one of his conspiracy to slay us young people, thou false thief!"

"Now, sirs," quoth he, "if you are so anxious to find Death, turn up this crooked road; for upon my word, I left him under a tree in that grove, and there he is going to stay; he will not hide anything because of your boasting. See

100

105

110

115

See

120

And

125

130

135

ye that ook? right ther ye shal him finde.
God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde,
amende !"
yow
Thus seyde this olde man.
And everich of thise ryotoures ran,

Til he cam to that tree, and ther they founde
Of florins fyne of golde y-coined rounde
Wel ny an eighte busshels, as hem thoughte.
No lenger thanne after Deeth they soughte,
But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte,
For that the florins been so faire and brighte,
That doun they sette hem by this precious hord.
The worste of hem he spake the firste word.

"Brethren," quod he, "tak kepe what I seye;
My wit is greet, though that I bourde and pleye.
This tresor hath fortune un-to us yiven,
In mirthe and jolitee our lyf to liven,
And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende.
Ey! Goddes precious dignitee! who wende
To-day, that we sholde han so fair a grace?
But mighte this gold be caried fro this place

that oak? right there will you find him. May God, who redeemed mankind, preserve you and reform you!" Thus spoke the old man. So each of these rioters ran till he came to the tree; and there they found nearly eight bushels, as they guessed, of fine, round gold florins. No longer did they seek Death, but each of them was so glad at the sight (for each of the florins was so bright and beautiful) that they sat down by the precious hoard. The worst of them spoke first.

66

'Brethren," said he, “take heed of what I say; I have a lot of sense, although I jest and trifle. Fortune hath given us this treasure in order that we may live a jolly, mirthful life; and let us spend it as freely as it has come. Eh! God's precious dignity! who would have thought this morning that we should be so lucky? But if this gold could be carried

Shal renne to the toune, and that full swythe,
And bring us breed and wyn ful prively.
And two of us shal kepen subtilly

150

This tresor wel; and, if he wol nat tarie,
Whan it is night, we wol this tresor carie
By oon assent, wher-as us thinketh best."

That oon of hem the cut broughte in his fest,
And bad hem drawe, and loke wher it wol falle;
And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle;

you know well

from here to my house, or else to yours for that all this gold is ours then we should be in great felicity. But truly, it can't be done by day; people would say that we were highwaymen, and would have us hanged because of our own treasure. It must be carried off at night, with as much thought and care as possible. Therefore I suggest that we all draw lots, and let us see where the lot will fall; and the one to whom the lot falls shall go blithely and quickly to town, and bring us bread and wine secretly. And two of us will take good care of the treasure; and if the other does not waste time, we will take the gold tonight by agreement wherever seems best." One of them held the straws in his hand, and bade them draw, and see how it would come out; and it fell to the youngest of them,

155

160

165

170

175

And forth toward the toun he wente anon.
And al-so sone as that he was gon,

That oon of hem spak thus un-to that other,
"Thou knowest wel thou art my sworne brother,
Thy profit wol I telle thee anon.

Thou woost wel that our felawe is agon;

And heer is gold, and that ful greet plentee,

That shal departed been among us three.
But natheles, if I can shape it so

That it departed were among us two,

Hadde I nat doon a freendes torn to thee?"

That other answerde, "I noot how that may be;
He woot how that the gold is with us tweye,
What shal we doon, what shal we to him seye?"

"Shal it be conseil ?" seyde the firste shrewe,
"And I shal tellen thee, in wordes fewe,
What we shal doon, and bring it wel aboute."
"I graunte," quod that other, "out of doute,

And immediately he set out for town.

As soon as he was gone, one said to the other: "Thou knowest well thou art my sworn brother; I am going to tell thee something now for thy profit. Thou knowest well that our companion is gone, and here is plenty of gold that is to be divided among us three. Nevertheless if I can manage it so that it be divided between us two, would I be doing thee a friend's turn?"

The other answered, "I don't know how that can be done; he knows that we two have the gold; what shall we do, what shall we say to him?"

"May it be a secret?" said the first scoundrel. "If so, I will tell you in a few words what we shall do, and I will bring it about."

"I agree," said the other, "without hesitation, that, on my