No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Knight’s Tale, Part Four Page 18

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Original Text	Modern Text
‘Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To maken vertu of necessitee, And take it wel, that we may nat eschue, And namely that to us alle is due. And who-so gruccheth ought, he dooth folye, And rebel is to him that al may gye. And certeinly a man hath most honour To dyen in his excellence and flour, Whan he is siker of his gode name; Than hath he doon his freend, ne him, no shame. And gladder oghte his freend ben of his deeth, Whan with honour up-yolden is his breeth, Than whan his name apalled is for age; For al forgeten is his vasselage. Than is it best, as for a worthy fame, To dyen whan that he is best of name.	‘Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To maken vertu of necessitee, And take it wel, that we may nat eschue, And namely that to us alle is due. And who-so gruccheth ought, he dooth folye, And rebel is to him that al may gye. And certeinly a man hath most honour To dyen in his excellence and flour, Whan he is siker of his gode name; Than hath he doon his freend, ne him, no shame. And gladder oghte his freend ben of his deeth, Whan with honour up-yolden is his breeth, Than whan his name apalled is for age; For al forgeten is his vasselage. Than is it best, as for a worthy fame, To dyen whan that he is best of name.
The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse. Why grucchen we? why have we hevinesse, That good Arcite, of chivalrye flour Departed is, with duetee and honour, Out of this foule prison of this lyf? Why grucchen heer his cosin and his wyf Of his wel-fare that loved hem so weel? Can he hem thank? nay, God wot, never a deel, That bothe his soule and eek hem-self offende, And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende.	The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse. Why grucchen we? why have we hevinesse, That good Arcite, of chivalrye flour Departed is, with duetee and honour, Out of this foule prison of this lyf? Why grucchen heer his cosin and his wyf Of his wel-fare that loved hem so weel? Can he hem thank? nay, God wot, never a deel, That bothe his soule and eek hem-self offende, And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende.

Original Text	Modern Text
‘Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To maken vertu of necessitee, And take it wel, that we may nat eschue, And namely that to us alle is due. And who-so gruccheth ought, he dooth folye, And rebel is to him that al may gye. And certeinly a man hath most honour To dyen in his excellence and flour, Whan he is siker of his gode name; Than hath he doon his freend, ne him, no shame. And gladder oghte his freend ben of his deeth, Whan with honour up-yolden is his breeth, Than whan his name apalled is for age; For al forgeten is his vasselage. Than is it best, as for a worthy fame, To dyen whan that he is best of name.	‘Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To maken vertu of necessitee, And take it wel, that we may nat eschue, And namely that to us alle is due. And who-so gruccheth ought, he dooth folye, And rebel is to him that al may gye. And certeinly a man hath most honour To dyen in his excellence and flour, Whan he is siker of his gode name; Than hath he doon his freend, ne him, no shame. And gladder oghte his freend ben of his deeth, Whan with honour up-yolden is his breeth, Than whan his name apalled is for age; For al forgeten is his vasselage. Than is it best, as for a worthy fame, To dyen whan that he is best of name.
The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse. Why grucchen we? why have we hevinesse, That good Arcite, of chivalrye flour Departed is, with duetee and honour, Out of this foule prison of this lyf? Why grucchen heer his cosin and his wyf Of his wel-fare that loved hem so weel? Can he hem thank? nay, God wot, never a deel, That bothe his soule and eek hem-self offende, And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende.	The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse. Why grucchen we? why have we hevinesse, That good Arcite, of chivalrye flour Departed is, with duetee and honour, Out of this foule prison of this lyf? Why grucchen heer his cosin and his wyf Of his wel-fare that loved hem so weel? Can he hem thank? nay, God wot, never a deel, That bothe his soule and eek hem-self offende, And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende.