Here’s pot-luck to you all, lads!
PARDONER.
[Who has spread out his relics in another part of the room.]
Pardons! pardons!
Offer your nobles now; spoons, brooches, rings:
Radix malorum est cupiditas.
CHAUCER
[Aside to Squire.]
Pray, speak no word of who I am. I ride
To Canterbury now, to bid farewell