No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Miller’s Tale Page 14

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Original Text	Modern Text
Thy wyf and thou mote hange fer a-twinne, For that bitwixe yow shal be no sinne No more in looking than ther shal in dede; This ordinance is seyd, go, God thee spede! Tomorwe at night, whan men ben alle aslepe, In-to our kneding-tubbes wol we crepe, And sitten ther, abyding Goddes grace. Go now thy wey, I have no lenger space To make of this no lenger sermoning. Men seyn thus, “send the wyse, and sey no-thing;” Thou art so wys, it nedeth thee nat teche; Go, save our lyf, and that I thee biseche.’	Thy wyf and thou mote hange fer a-twinne, For that bitwixe yow shal be no sinne No more in looking than ther shal in dede; This ordinance is seyd, go, God thee spede! Tomorwe at night, whan men ben alle aslepe, In-to our kneding-tubbes wol we crepe, And sitten ther, abyding Goddes grace. Go now thy wey, I have no lenger space To make of this no lenger sermoning. Men seyn thus, “send the wyse, and sey no-thing;” Thou art so wys, it nedeth thee nat teche; Go, save our lyf, and that I thee biseche.’
This sely carpenter goth forth his wey. Ful ofte he seith ‘allas’ and ‘weylawey,’ And to his wyf he tolde his privetee; And she was war, and knew it bet than he, What al this queynte cast was for to seye. But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye, And seyde, ‘allas! go forth thy wey anon, Help us to scape, or we ben lost echon; I am thy trewe verray wedded wyf; Go, dere spouse, and help to save our lyf.’	This sely carpenter goth forth his wey. Ful ofte he seith ‘allas’ and ‘weylawey,’ And to his wyf he tolde his privetee; And she was war, and knew it bet than he, What al this queynte cast was for to seye. But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye, And seyde, ‘allas! go forth thy wey anon, Help us to scape, or we ben lost echon; I am thy trewe verray wedded wyf; Go, dere spouse, and help to save our lyf.’
Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun! Men may dye of imaginacioun, So depe may impressioun be take. This sely carpenter biginneth quake; Him thinketh verraily that he may see Noës flood come walwing as the see To drenchen Alisoun, his hony dere. He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory chere, He syketh with ful many a sory swogh. He gooth and geteth him a kneding-trogh, And after that a tubbe and a kimelin, And prively he sente hem to his in, And heng hem in the roof in privetee. His owne hand he made laddres three, To climben by the ronges and the stalkes Unto the tubbes hanginge in the balkes, And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe, With breed and chese, and good ale in a Iubbe, Suffysinge right y-nogh as for a day. But er that he had maad al this array, He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also, Upon his nede to London for to go. And on the Monday, whan it drow to night, He shette his dore with-oute candel-light, And dressed al thing as it sholde be. And shortly, up they clomben alle three; They sitten stille wel a furlong-way.	Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun! Men may dye of imaginacioun, So depe may impressioun be take. This sely carpenter biginneth quake; Him thinketh verraily that he may see Noës flood come walwing as the see To drenchen Alisoun, his hony dere. He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory chere, He syketh with ful many a sory swogh. He gooth and geteth him a kneding-trogh, And after that a tubbe and a kimelin, And prively he sente hem to his in, And heng hem in the roof in privetee. His owne hand he made laddres three, To climben by the ronges and the stalkes Unto the tubbes hanginge in the balkes, And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe, With breed and chese, and good ale in a Iubbe, Suffysinge right y-nogh as for a day. But er that he had maad al this array, He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also, Upon his nede to London for to go. And on the Monday, whan it drow to night, He shette his dore with-oute candel-light, And dressed al thing as it sholde be. And shortly, up they clomben alle three; They sitten stille wel a furlong-way.

Original Text	Modern Text
Thy wyf and thou mote hange fer a-twinne, For that bitwixe yow shal be no sinne No more in looking than ther shal in dede; This ordinance is seyd, go, God thee spede! Tomorwe at night, whan men ben alle aslepe, In-to our kneding-tubbes wol we crepe, And sitten ther, abyding Goddes grace. Go now thy wey, I have no lenger space To make of this no lenger sermoning. Men seyn thus, “send the wyse, and sey no-thing;” Thou art so wys, it nedeth thee nat teche; Go, save our lyf, and that I thee biseche.’	Thy wyf and thou mote hange fer a-twinne, For that bitwixe yow shal be no sinne No more in looking than ther shal in dede; This ordinance is seyd, go, God thee spede! Tomorwe at night, whan men ben alle aslepe, In-to our kneding-tubbes wol we crepe, And sitten ther, abyding Goddes grace. Go now thy wey, I have no lenger space To make of this no lenger sermoning. Men seyn thus, “send the wyse, and sey no-thing;” Thou art so wys, it nedeth thee nat teche; Go, save our lyf, and that I thee biseche.’
This sely carpenter goth forth his wey. Ful ofte he seith ‘allas’ and ‘weylawey,’ And to his wyf he tolde his privetee; And she was war, and knew it bet than he, What al this queynte cast was for to seye. But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye, And seyde, ‘allas! go forth thy wey anon, Help us to scape, or we ben lost echon; I am thy trewe verray wedded wyf; Go, dere spouse, and help to save our lyf.’	This sely carpenter goth forth his wey. Ful ofte he seith ‘allas’ and ‘weylawey,’ And to his wyf he tolde his privetee; And she was war, and knew it bet than he, What al this queynte cast was for to seye. But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye, And seyde, ‘allas! go forth thy wey anon, Help us to scape, or we ben lost echon; I am thy trewe verray wedded wyf; Go, dere spouse, and help to save our lyf.’
Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun! Men may dye of imaginacioun, So depe may impressioun be take. This sely carpenter biginneth quake; Him thinketh verraily that he may see Noës flood come walwing as the see To drenchen Alisoun, his hony dere. He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory chere, He syketh with ful many a sory swogh. He gooth and geteth him a kneding-trogh, And after that a tubbe and a kimelin, And prively he sente hem to his in, And heng hem in the roof in privetee. His owne hand he made laddres three, To climben by the ronges and the stalkes Unto the tubbes hanginge in the balkes, And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe, With breed and chese, and good ale in a Iubbe, Suffysinge right y-nogh as for a day. But er that he had maad al this array, He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also, Upon his nede to London for to go. And on the Monday, whan it drow to night, He shette his dore with-oute candel-light, And dressed al thing as it sholde be. And shortly, up they clomben alle three; They sitten stille wel a furlong-way.	Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun! Men may dye of imaginacioun, So depe may impressioun be take. This sely carpenter biginneth quake; Him thinketh verraily that he may see Noës flood come walwing as the see To drenchen Alisoun, his hony dere. He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory chere, He syketh with ful many a sory swogh. He gooth and geteth him a kneding-trogh, And after that a tubbe and a kimelin, And prively he sente hem to his in, And heng hem in the roof in privetee. His owne hand he made laddres three, To climben by the ronges and the stalkes Unto the tubbes hanginge in the balkes, And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe, With breed and chese, and good ale in a Iubbe, Suffysinge right y-nogh as for a day. But er that he had maad al this array, He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also, Upon his nede to London for to go. And on the Monday, whan it drow to night, He shette his dore with-oute candel-light, And dressed al thing as it sholde be. And shortly, up they clomben alle three; They sitten stille wel a furlong-way.