No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Knight’s Tale The Knight’s Tale, Part Three Page 9

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Original Text	Modern Text
This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight, Whan he had broght hem in-to his citee, And inned hem, everich in his degree, He festeth hem, and dooth so greet labour To esen hem, and doon hem al honour, That yet men weneth that no mannes wit Of noon estat ne coude amenden it. The minstralcye, the service at the feste, The grete yiftes to the moste and leste, The riche array of Theseus paleys, Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys, What ladies fairest been or best daunsinge, Or which of hem can dauncen best and singe, Ne who most felingly speketh of love: What haukes sitten on the perche above, What houndes liggen on the floor adoun: Of al this make I now no mencioun; But al theffect, that thinketh me the beste; Now comth the poynt, and herkneth if yow leste.	This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight, Whan he had broght hem in-to his citee, And inned hem, everich in his degree, He festeth hem, and dooth so greet labour To esen hem, and doon hem al honour, That yet men weneth that no mannes wit Of noon estat ne coude amenden it. The minstralcye, the service at the feste, The grete yiftes to the moste and leste, The riche array of Theseus paleys, Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys, What ladies fairest been or best daunsinge, Or which of hem can dauncen best and singe, Ne who most felingly speketh of love: What haukes sitten on the perche above, What houndes liggen on the floor adoun: Of al this make I now no mencioun; But al theffect, that thinketh me the beste; Now comth the poynt, and herkneth if yow leste.
The Sonday night, er day bigan to springe, When Palamon the larke herde singe, Although it nere nat day by houres two, Yet song the larke, and Palamon also. With holy herte, and with an heigh corage He roos, to wenden on his pilgrimage Unto the blisful Citherea benigne, I mene Venus, honurable and digne. And in hir houre he walketh forth a pas Unto the listes, ther hir temple was, And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere And herte soor, he seyde as ye shul here.	The Sonday night, er day bigan to springe, When Palamon the larke herde singe, Although it nere nat day by houres two, Yet song the larke, and Palamon also. With holy herte, and with an heigh corage He roos, to wenden on his pilgrimage Unto the blisful Citherea benigne, I mene Venus, honurable and digne. And in hir houre he walketh forth a pas Unto the listes, ther hir temple was, And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere And herte soor, he seyde as ye shul here.

Original Text	Modern Text
This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight, Whan he had broght hem in-to his citee, And inned hem, everich in his degree, He festeth hem, and dooth so greet labour To esen hem, and doon hem al honour, That yet men weneth that no mannes wit Of noon estat ne coude amenden it. The minstralcye, the service at the feste, The grete yiftes to the moste and leste, The riche array of Theseus paleys, Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys, What ladies fairest been or best daunsinge, Or which of hem can dauncen best and singe, Ne who most felingly speketh of love: What haukes sitten on the perche above, What houndes liggen on the floor adoun: Of al this make I now no mencioun; But al theffect, that thinketh me the beste; Now comth the poynt, and herkneth if yow leste.	This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight, Whan he had broght hem in-to his citee, And inned hem, everich in his degree, He festeth hem, and dooth so greet labour To esen hem, and doon hem al honour, That yet men weneth that no mannes wit Of noon estat ne coude amenden it. The minstralcye, the service at the feste, The grete yiftes to the moste and leste, The riche array of Theseus paleys, Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys, What ladies fairest been or best daunsinge, Or which of hem can dauncen best and singe, Ne who most felingly speketh of love: What haukes sitten on the perche above, What houndes liggen on the floor adoun: Of al this make I now no mencioun; But al theffect, that thinketh me the beste; Now comth the poynt, and herkneth if yow leste.
The Sonday night, er day bigan to springe, When Palamon the larke herde singe, Although it nere nat day by houres two, Yet song the larke, and Palamon also. With holy herte, and with an heigh corage He roos, to wenden on his pilgrimage Unto the blisful Citherea benigne, I mene Venus, honurable and digne. And in hir houre he walketh forth a pas Unto the listes, ther hir temple was, And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere And herte soor, he seyde as ye shul here.	The Sonday night, er day bigan to springe, When Palamon the larke herde singe, Although it nere nat day by houres two, Yet song the larke, and Palamon also. With holy herte, and with an heigh corage He roos, to wenden on his pilgrimage Unto the blisful Citherea benigne, I mene Venus, honurable and digne. And in hir houre he walketh forth a pas Unto the listes, ther hir temple was, And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere And herte soor, he seyde as ye shul here.