William: You were never robbed, were you?
Chaucer: Look, I have a gambling problem. I can't help myself. And these people will - quite literally - take off clothes of your back.
William: What are you expecting us to do about it?
Peter The Pardoner of Rouen: He assured us that you, his liege, would pay us.
William: And who are you?
Peter The Pardoner of Rouen: Peter, a humble pardoner and purveyor of religious relics.
William: How much does he owe you?
Simon The Summoner of Rouen: Ten gold florins.
Wat: You lanky git! :[attacks Chaucer]
William: Hey! Hey, Wat - let him go! [Pulls Wat off him]
Chaucer: [Holding injured hand] OW!
William: What would you do to him, if I was to refuse?
Simon The Summoner of Rouen: We, on behalf of the lord God, would take it out of his flesh, so that he may understand that gambling is a sin.
Chaucer: :[pleading] Oh, come on, please, Will...
[Summoner is piqued at this slip of the tongue; Chaucer recovers]
Chaucer:...please, will you help me, Sir Ulrich? I promise you won't regret it.
William: I don't have the money.
[Chaucer's face falls]
William: Release him. For God's sake, give him back his clothes, and you'll get it.
Simon The Summoner of Rouen: Done.
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