No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: Prologue to the Miller’s Tale Page 3

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Original Text	Modern Text
What sholde I more seyn, but this Millere He nolde his wordes for no man forbere, But tolde his cherles tale in his manere; Me thinketh that I shal reherce it here. And ther-fore every gentil wight I preye, For Goddes love, demeth nat that I seye Of evel entente, but that I moot reherce Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse, Or elles falsen som of my matere. And therfore, who-so list it nat y-here, Turne over the leef, and chese another tale; For he shal finde y-nowe, grete and smale, Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse, And eek moralitee and holinesse; Blameth nat me if that ye chese amis. The Miller is a cherl, ye knowe wel this; So was the Reve, and othere many mo, And harlotrye they tolden bothe two. Avyseth yow and putte me out of blame; And eek men shal nat make ernest of game.	What sholde I more seyn, but this Millere He nolde his wordes for no man forbere, But tolde his cherles tale in his manere; Me thinketh that I shal reherce it here. And ther-fore every gentil wight I preye, For Goddes love, demeth nat that I seye Of evel entente, but that I moot reherce Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse, Or elles falsen som of my matere. And therfore, who-so list it nat y-here, Turne over the leef, and chese another tale; For he shal finde y-nowe, grete and smale, Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse, And eek moralitee and holinesse; Blameth nat me if that ye chese amis. The Miller is a cherl, ye knowe wel this; So was the Reve, and othere many mo, And harlotrye they tolden bothe two. Avyseth yow and putte me out of blame; And eek men shal nat make ernest of game.
HERE ENDETH THE PROLOGE.	HERE ENDETH THE PROLOGE.

Original Text	Modern Text
What sholde I more seyn, but this Millere He nolde his wordes for no man forbere, But tolde his cherles tale in his manere; Me thinketh that I shal reherce it here. And ther-fore every gentil wight I preye, For Goddes love, demeth nat that I seye Of evel entente, but that I moot reherce Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse, Or elles falsen som of my matere. And therfore, who-so list it nat y-here, Turne over the leef, and chese another tale; For he shal finde y-nowe, grete and smale, Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse, And eek moralitee and holinesse; Blameth nat me if that ye chese amis. The Miller is a cherl, ye knowe wel this; So was the Reve, and othere many mo, And harlotrye they tolden bothe two. Avyseth yow and putte me out of blame; And eek men shal nat make ernest of game.	What sholde I more seyn, but this Millere He nolde his wordes for no man forbere, But tolde his cherles tale in his manere; Me thinketh that I shal reherce it here. And ther-fore every gentil wight I preye, For Goddes love, demeth nat that I seye Of evel entente, but that I moot reherce Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse, Or elles falsen som of my matere. And therfore, who-so list it nat y-here, Turne over the leef, and chese another tale; For he shal finde y-nowe, grete and smale, Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse, And eek moralitee and holinesse; Blameth nat me if that ye chese amis. The Miller is a cherl, ye knowe wel this; So was the Reve, and othere many mo, And harlotrye they tolden bothe two. Avyseth yow and putte me out of blame; And eek men shal nat make ernest of game.
HERE ENDETH THE PROLOGE.	HERE ENDETH THE PROLOGE.