No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Nun's Priest's Tale The Nun’s Priest’s Tale Page 8

Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial

Already have an account? Log in

Original Text	Modern Text
The hostiler answered him anon, And seyde, ‘sire, your felawe is agon, As sone as day he wente out of the toun.’ This man gan fallen in suspecioun, Remembring on his dremes that he mette, And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he lette, Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, That was arrayed in the same wyse As ye han herd the dede man devyse; And with an hardy herte he gan to crye Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye: ‘My felawe mordred is this same night, And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright. I crye out on the ministres,’ quod he, ‘That sholden kepe and reulen this citee; Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!’ What sholde I more unto this tale sayn? The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde, And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man, that mordred was al newe.	The hostiler answered him anon, And seyde, ‘sire, your felawe is agon, As sone as day he wente out of the toun.’ This man gan fallen in suspecioun, Remembring on his dremes that he mette, And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he lette, Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, That was arrayed in the same wyse As ye han herd the dede man devyse; And with an hardy herte he gan to crye Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye: ‘My felawe mordred is this same night, And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright. I crye out on the ministres,’ quod he, ‘That sholden kepe and reulen this citee; Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!’ What sholde I more unto this tale sayn? The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde, And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man, that mordred was al newe.
O blisful God, that art so Iust and trewe! Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that see we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsom and abhominable To God, that is so Iust and resonable, That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be; Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three, Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun. And right anoon, ministres of that toun Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned, And eek the hostiler so sore engyned, That thay biknewe hir wikkednesse anoon, And were an-hanged by the nekke-boon.	O blisful God, that art so Iust and trewe! Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that see we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsom and abhominable To God, that is so Iust and resonable, That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be; Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three, Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun. And right anoon, ministres of that toun Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned, And eek the hostiler so sore engyned, That thay biknewe hir wikkednesse anoon, And were an-hanged by the nekke-boon.

Original Text	Modern Text
The hostiler answered him anon, And seyde, ‘sire, your felawe is agon, As sone as day he wente out of the toun.’ This man gan fallen in suspecioun, Remembring on his dremes that he mette, And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he lette, Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, That was arrayed in the same wyse As ye han herd the dede man devyse; And with an hardy herte he gan to crye Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye: ‘My felawe mordred is this same night, And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright. I crye out on the ministres,’ quod he, ‘That sholden kepe and reulen this citee; Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!’ What sholde I more unto this tale sayn? The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde, And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man, that mordred was al newe.	The hostiler answered him anon, And seyde, ‘sire, your felawe is agon, As sone as day he wente out of the toun.’ This man gan fallen in suspecioun, Remembring on his dremes that he mette, And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he lette, Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, That was arrayed in the same wyse As ye han herd the dede man devyse; And with an hardy herte he gan to crye Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye: ‘My felawe mordred is this same night, And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright. I crye out on the ministres,’ quod he, ‘That sholden kepe and reulen this citee; Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!’ What sholde I more unto this tale sayn? The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde, And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man, that mordred was al newe.
O blisful God, that art so Iust and trewe! Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that see we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsom and abhominable To God, that is so Iust and resonable, That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be; Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three, Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun. And right anoon, ministres of that toun Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned, And eek the hostiler so sore engyned, That thay biknewe hir wikkednesse anoon, And were an-hanged by the nekke-boon.	O blisful God, that art so Iust and trewe! Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that see we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsom and abhominable To God, that is so Iust and resonable, That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be; Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three, Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun. And right anoon, ministres of that toun Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned, And eek the hostiler so sore engyned, That thay biknewe hir wikkednesse anoon, And were an-hanged by the nekke-boon.