No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: General Prologue General Prologue Page 9

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Original Text	Modern Text
An HABERDASSHER and a CARPENTER, A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPICER, Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree, Of a solempne and greet fraternitee. Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was; Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras, But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he can, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they y-nogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certein were they to blame. It is ful fair to been y-clept “ma dame,” And goon to vigilyës al bifore, And have a mantel royalliche y-bore.	An HABERDASSHER and a CARPENTER, A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPICER, Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree, Of a solempne and greet fraternitee. Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was; Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras, But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he can, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they y-nogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certein were they to blame. It is ful fair to been y-clept “ma dame,” And goon to vigilyës al bifore, And have a mantel royalliche y-bore.
A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones, To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones, And poudre-marchant tart, and galingale. Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye. But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shine a mormal hadde he; For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.	A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones, To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones, And poudre-marchant tart, and galingale. Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye. But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shine a mormal hadde he; For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.

Original Text	Modern Text
An HABERDASSHER and a CARPENTER, A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPICER, Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree, Of a solempne and greet fraternitee. Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was; Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras, But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he can, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they y-nogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certein were they to blame. It is ful fair to been y-clept “ma dame,” And goon to vigilyës al bifore, And have a mantel royalliche y-bore.	An HABERDASSHER and a CARPENTER, A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPICER, Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree, Of a solempne and greet fraternitee. Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was; Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras, But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he can, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they y-nogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certein were they to blame. It is ful fair to been y-clept “ma dame,” And goon to vigilyës al bifore, And have a mantel royalliche y-bore.
A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones, To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones, And poudre-marchant tart, and galingale. Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye. But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shine a mormal hadde he; For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.	A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones, To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones, And poudre-marchant tart, and galingale. Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye. But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shine a mormal hadde he; For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.