No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Knight’s Tale, Part Four Page 11

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Original Text	Modern Text
And with that word his speche faille gan, For from his feet up to his brest was come The cold of deeth, that hadde him overcome. And yet more-over, in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. Only the intellect, with-outen more, That dwelled in his herte syk and sore, Gan faillen, when the herte felte deeth, Dusked his eyen two, and failled breeth. But on his lady yet caste he his yë; His laste word was, ‘mercy, Emelye!’ His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther, As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher. Therfor I stinte, I nam no divinistre; Of soules finde I nat in this registre, Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle. Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye; Now wol I speken forth of Emelye.	And with that word his speche faille gan, For from his feet up to his brest was come The cold of deeth, that hadde him overcome. And yet more-over, in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. Only the intellect, with-outen more, That dwelled in his herte syk and sore, Gan faillen, when the herte felte deeth, Dusked his eyen two, and failled breeth. But on his lady yet caste he his yë; His laste word was, ‘mercy, Emelye!’ His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther, As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher. Therfor I stinte, I nam no divinistre; Of soules finde I nat in this registre, Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle. Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye; Now wol I speken forth of Emelye.
Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon, And Theseus his suster took anon Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away. What helpeth it to tarien forth the day, To tellen how she weep, bothe eve and morwe? For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe, Whan that hir housbonds been from hem ago, That for the more part they sorwen so, Or elles fallen in swich maladye, That at the laste certeinly they dye.	Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon, And Theseus his suster took anon Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away. What helpeth it to tarien forth the day, To tellen how she weep, bothe eve and morwe? For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe, Whan that hir housbonds been from hem ago, That for the more part they sorwen so, Or elles fallen in swich maladye, That at the laste certeinly they dye.

Original Text	Modern Text
And with that word his speche faille gan, For from his feet up to his brest was come The cold of deeth, that hadde him overcome. And yet more-over, in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. Only the intellect, with-outen more, That dwelled in his herte syk and sore, Gan faillen, when the herte felte deeth, Dusked his eyen two, and failled breeth. But on his lady yet caste he his yë; His laste word was, ‘mercy, Emelye!’ His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther, As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher. Therfor I stinte, I nam no divinistre; Of soules finde I nat in this registre, Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle. Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye; Now wol I speken forth of Emelye.	And with that word his speche faille gan, For from his feet up to his brest was come The cold of deeth, that hadde him overcome. And yet more-over, in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. Only the intellect, with-outen more, That dwelled in his herte syk and sore, Gan faillen, when the herte felte deeth, Dusked his eyen two, and failled breeth. But on his lady yet caste he his yë; His laste word was, ‘mercy, Emelye!’ His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther, As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher. Therfor I stinte, I nam no divinistre; Of soules finde I nat in this registre, Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle. Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye; Now wol I speken forth of Emelye.
Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon, And Theseus his suster took anon Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away. What helpeth it to tarien forth the day, To tellen how she weep, bothe eve and morwe? For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe, Whan that hir housbonds been from hem ago, That for the more part they sorwen so, Or elles fallen in swich maladye, That at the laste certeinly they dye.	Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon, And Theseus his suster took anon Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away. What helpeth it to tarien forth the day, To tellen how she weep, bothe eve and morwe? For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe, Whan that hir housbonds been from hem ago, That for the more part they sorwen so, Or elles fallen in swich maladye, That at the laste certeinly they dye.