No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Miller’s Tale Page 13

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Original Text	Modern Text
But whan thou hast, for hir and thee and me, Y-geten us thise kneding-tubbes three, Than shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye, That no man of our purveyaunce spye. And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd, And hast our vitaille faire in hem y-leyd, And eek an ax, to smyte the corde atwo When that the water comth, that we may go, And broke an hole an heigh, upon the gable, Unto the gardin-ward, over the stable, That we may frely passen forth our way Whan that the grete shour is goon away— Than shaltow swimme as myrie, I undertake, As doth the whyte doke after hir drake. Than wol I clepe, “how! Alison! how! John! Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon.” And thou wolt seyn, “hayl, maister Nicholay! Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day.” And than shul we be lordes al our lyf Of al the world, as Noë and his wyf.	But whan thou hast, for hir and thee and me, Y-geten us thise kneding-tubbes three, Than shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye, That no man of our purveyaunce spye. And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd, And hast our vitaille faire in hem y-leyd, And eek an ax, to smyte the corde atwo When that the water comth, that we may go, And broke an hole an heigh, upon the gable, Unto the gardin-ward, over the stable, That we may frely passen forth our way Whan that the grete shour is goon away— Than shaltow swimme as myrie, I undertake, As doth the whyte doke after hir drake. Than wol I clepe, “how! Alison! how! John! Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon.” And thou wolt seyn, “hayl, maister Nicholay! Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day.” And than shul we be lordes al our lyf Of al the world, as Noë and his wyf.
But of o thyng I warne thee ful right, Be wel avysed, on that ilke night That we ben entred in-to shippes bord, That noon of us ne speke nat a word, Ne clepe, ne crye, but been in his preyere; For it is Goddes owne heste dere.	But of o thyng I warne thee ful right, Be wel avysed, on that ilke night That we ben entred in-to shippes bord, That noon of us ne speke nat a word, Ne clepe, ne crye, but been in his preyere; For it is Goddes owne heste dere.

Original Text	Modern Text
But whan thou hast, for hir and thee and me, Y-geten us thise kneding-tubbes three, Than shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye, That no man of our purveyaunce spye. And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd, And hast our vitaille faire in hem y-leyd, And eek an ax, to smyte the corde atwo When that the water comth, that we may go, And broke an hole an heigh, upon the gable, Unto the gardin-ward, over the stable, That we may frely passen forth our way Whan that the grete shour is goon away— Than shaltow swimme as myrie, I undertake, As doth the whyte doke after hir drake. Than wol I clepe, “how! Alison! how! John! Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon.” And thou wolt seyn, “hayl, maister Nicholay! Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day.” And than shul we be lordes al our lyf Of al the world, as Noë and his wyf.	But whan thou hast, for hir and thee and me, Y-geten us thise kneding-tubbes three, Than shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye, That no man of our purveyaunce spye. And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd, And hast our vitaille faire in hem y-leyd, And eek an ax, to smyte the corde atwo When that the water comth, that we may go, And broke an hole an heigh, upon the gable, Unto the gardin-ward, over the stable, That we may frely passen forth our way Whan that the grete shour is goon away— Than shaltow swimme as myrie, I undertake, As doth the whyte doke after hir drake. Than wol I clepe, “how! Alison! how! John! Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon.” And thou wolt seyn, “hayl, maister Nicholay! Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day.” And than shul we be lordes al our lyf Of al the world, as Noë and his wyf.
But of o thyng I warne thee ful right, Be wel avysed, on that ilke night That we ben entred in-to shippes bord, That noon of us ne speke nat a word, Ne clepe, ne crye, but been in his preyere; For it is Goddes owne heste dere.	But of o thyng I warne thee ful right, Be wel avysed, on that ilke night That we ben entred in-to shippes bord, That noon of us ne speke nat a word, Ne clepe, ne crye, but been in his preyere; For it is Goddes owne heste dere.