No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Knight’s Tale The Knight’s Tale, Part Four Page 4

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Original Text	Modern Text
Whan that hir names rad were everichoon, That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon, Tho were the gates shet, and cryed was loude: ‘Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!’	Whan that hir names rad were everichoon, That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon, Tho were the gates shet, and cryed was loude: ‘Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!’
The heraudes lefte hir priking up and doun; Now ringen trompes loude and clarioun; Ther is namore to seyn, but west and est In goon the speres ful sadly in arest; In goth the sharpe spore in-to the syde. Ther seen men who can Iuste, and who can ryde; Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke; He feleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke. Up springen speres twenty foot on highte; Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte. The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede; Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes rede. With mighty maces the bones they to-breste. He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste. Ther stomblen stedes stronge, and doun goth al. He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal. He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun, And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun. He thurgh the body is hurt, and sithen y-take, Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake, As forward was, right ther he moste abyde; Another lad is on that other syde.	The heraudes lefte hir priking up and doun; Now ringen trompes loude and clarioun; Ther is namore to seyn, but west and est In goon the speres ful sadly in arest; In goth the sharpe spore in-to the syde. Ther seen men who can Iuste, and who can ryde; Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke; He feleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke. Up springen speres twenty foot on highte; Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte. The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede; Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes rede. With mighty maces the bones they to-breste. He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste. Ther stomblen stedes stronge, and doun goth al. He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal. He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun, And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun. He thurgh the body is hurt, and sithen y-take, Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake, As forward was, right ther he moste abyde; Another lad is on that other syde.

Original Text	Modern Text
Whan that hir names rad were everichoon, That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon, Tho were the gates shet, and cryed was loude: ‘Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!’	Whan that hir names rad were everichoon, That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon, Tho were the gates shet, and cryed was loude: ‘Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!’
The heraudes lefte hir priking up and doun; Now ringen trompes loude and clarioun; Ther is namore to seyn, but west and est In goon the speres ful sadly in arest; In goth the sharpe spore in-to the syde. Ther seen men who can Iuste, and who can ryde; Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke; He feleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke. Up springen speres twenty foot on highte; Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte. The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede; Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes rede. With mighty maces the bones they to-breste. He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste. Ther stomblen stedes stronge, and doun goth al. He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal. He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun, And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun. He thurgh the body is hurt, and sithen y-take, Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake, As forward was, right ther he moste abyde; Another lad is on that other syde.	The heraudes lefte hir priking up and doun; Now ringen trompes loude and clarioun; Ther is namore to seyn, but west and est In goon the speres ful sadly in arest; In goth the sharpe spore in-to the syde. Ther seen men who can Iuste, and who can ryde; Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke; He feleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke. Up springen speres twenty foot on highte; Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte. The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede; Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes rede. With mighty maces the bones they to-breste. He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste. Ther stomblen stedes stronge, and doun goth al. He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal. He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun, And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun. He thurgh the body is hurt, and sithen y-take, Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake, As forward was, right ther he moste abyde; Another lad is on that other syde.