No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Pardoner's Tale The Pardoner’s Tale Page 7

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Original Text	Modern Text
Thise ryotoures three, of whiche I telle, Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle, Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke; And as they satte, they herde a belle clinke Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave; That oon of hem gan callen to his knave, ‘Go bet,’ quod he, ‘and axe redily, What cors is this that passeth heer forby; And look that thou reporte his name wel.’	Thise ryotoures three, of whiche I telle, Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle, Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke; And as they satte, they herde a belle clinke Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave; That oon of hem gan callen to his knave, ‘Go bet,’ quod he, ‘and axe redily, What cors is this that passeth heer forby; And look that thou reporte his name wel.’
‘Sir,’ quod this boy, ‘it nedeth never-a-del. It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres; He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres; And sodeynly he was y-slayn to-night, For-dronke, as he sat on his bench upright; Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth Deeth, That in this contree al the peple sleeth, And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two, And wente his wey with-outen wordes mo. He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence: And, maister, er ye come in his presence, Me thinketh that it were necessarie For to be war of swich an adversarie: Beth redy for to mete him evermore. Thus taughte me my dame, I sey na-more.’	‘Sir,’ quod this boy, ‘it nedeth never-a-del. It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres; He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres; And sodeynly he was y-slayn to-night, For-dronke, as he sat on his bench upright; Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth Deeth, That in this contree al the peple sleeth, And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two, And wente his wey with-outen wordes mo. He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence: And, maister, er ye come in his presence, Me thinketh that it were necessarie For to be war of swich an adversarie: Beth redy for to mete him evermore. Thus taughte me my dame, I sey na-more.’

Original Text	Modern Text
Thise ryotoures three, of whiche I telle, Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle, Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke; And as they satte, they herde a belle clinke Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave; That oon of hem gan callen to his knave, ‘Go bet,’ quod he, ‘and axe redily, What cors is this that passeth heer forby; And look that thou reporte his name wel.’	Thise ryotoures three, of whiche I telle, Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle, Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke; And as they satte, they herde a belle clinke Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave; That oon of hem gan callen to his knave, ‘Go bet,’ quod he, ‘and axe redily, What cors is this that passeth heer forby; And look that thou reporte his name wel.’
‘Sir,’ quod this boy, ‘it nedeth never-a-del. It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres; He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres; And sodeynly he was y-slayn to-night, For-dronke, as he sat on his bench upright; Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth Deeth, That in this contree al the peple sleeth, And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two, And wente his wey with-outen wordes mo. He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence: And, maister, er ye come in his presence, Me thinketh that it were necessarie For to be war of swich an adversarie: Beth redy for to mete him evermore. Thus taughte me my dame, I sey na-more.’	‘Sir,’ quod this boy, ‘it nedeth never-a-del. It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres; He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres; And sodeynly he was y-slayn to-night, For-dronke, as he sat on his bench upright; Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth Deeth, That in this contree al the peple sleeth, And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two, And wente his wey with-outen wordes mo. He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence: And, maister, er ye come in his presence, Me thinketh that it were necessarie For to be war of swich an adversarie: Beth redy for to mete him evermore. Thus taughte me my dame, I sey na-more.’