And mak ane fals narratioun.
Cum win the pardoun, now let se,
For meill, for malt, or for monie,
For cok, hen, guse, or gryse.
Of relicts heir I haif ane hunder;
Quhy cum ye nocht? this is ane wounder:
I trow ye be nocht wyse.
[A grotesque episode is here introduced in which the Pardoner, for the price of “ane cuppill of sarks” (shirts), divorces a malcontent sowtar, or shoemaker, and his wife. Upon their despatch, east and west, the Pardoner’s boy cries from the hill.]
WILKIN.
Hoaw! Maister, hoaw! quhair ar ye now?