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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, Ne dooth unto an old man noon harm now, Na-more than ye wolde men dide to yow In age, if that ye so longe abyde; And God be with yow, wher ye go or ryde. I moot go thider as I have to go.’ 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, Ne dooth unto an old man noon harm now, Na-more than ye wolde men dide to yow In age, if that ye so longe abyde; And God be with yow, wher ye go or ryde. I moot go thider as I have to go.’
‘Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shall nat so,’ Seyde this other hasardour anon; ‘Thou partest nat so lightly, by seint Iohn! 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!’ ‘Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shall nat so,’ Seyde this other hasardour anon; ‘Thou partest nat so lightly, by seint Iohn! 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 him no-thing hyde. See ye that ook? right ther ye shul him finde. God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde, And yow amende!’—thus seyde this olde man. ‘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 him no-thing hyde. See ye that ook? right ther ye shul him finde. God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde, And yow amende!’—thus seyde this olde man.

Original Text

Modern Text

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, Ne dooth unto an old man noon harm now, Na-more than ye wolde men dide to yow In age, if that ye so longe abyde; And God be with yow, wher ye go or ryde. I moot go thider as I have to go.’ 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, Ne dooth unto an old man noon harm now, Na-more than ye wolde men dide to yow In age, if that ye so longe abyde; And God be with yow, wher ye go or ryde. I moot go thider as I have to go.’
‘Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shall nat so,’ Seyde this other hasardour anon; ‘Thou partest nat so lightly, by seint Iohn! 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!’ ‘Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shall nat so,’ Seyde this other hasardour anon; ‘Thou partest nat so lightly, by seint Iohn! 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 him no-thing hyde. See ye that ook? right ther ye shul him finde. God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde, And yow amende!’—thus seyde this olde man. ‘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 him no-thing hyde. See ye that ook? right ther ye shul him finde. God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde, And yow amende!’—thus seyde this olde man.