No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: Epilogue to the Nun’s Priest’s Tale Page 1

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Original Text	Modern Text
EPILOGUE TO THE NONNE PREESTES TALE.	EPILOGUE TO THE NONNE PREESTES TALE.
‘Sir Nonnes Preest,’ our hoste seyde anoon, ‘Y-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon! This was a mery tale of Chauntecleer. But, by my trouthe, if thou were seculer, Thou woldest been a trede-foul a-right. For, if thou have corage as thou hast might, Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene, Ya, mo than seven tymes seventene. See, whiche braunes hath this gentil Preest, So greet a nekke, and swich a large breest! He loketh as a sperhauk with his yën; Him nedeth nat his colour for to dyen With brasil, ne with greyn of Portingale. Now sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!’	‘Sir Nonnes Preest,’ our hoste seyde anoon, ‘Y-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon! This was a mery tale of Chauntecleer. But, by my trouthe, if thou were seculer, Thou woldest been a trede-foul a-right. For, if thou have corage as thou hast might, Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene, Ya, mo than seven tymes seventene. See, whiche braunes hath this gentil Preest, So greet a nekke, and swich a large breest! He loketh as a sperhauk with his yën; Him nedeth nat his colour for to dyen With brasil, ne with greyn of Portingale. Now sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!’
And after that he, with ful mery chere, Seide to another, as ye shullen here.	And after that he, with ful mery chere, Seide to another, as ye shullen here.

Original Text	Modern Text
EPILOGUE TO THE NONNE PREESTES TALE.	EPILOGUE TO THE NONNE PREESTES TALE.
‘Sir Nonnes Preest,’ our hoste seyde anoon, ‘Y-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon! This was a mery tale of Chauntecleer. But, by my trouthe, if thou were seculer, Thou woldest been a trede-foul a-right. For, if thou have corage as thou hast might, Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene, Ya, mo than seven tymes seventene. See, whiche braunes hath this gentil Preest, So greet a nekke, and swich a large breest! He loketh as a sperhauk with his yën; Him nedeth nat his colour for to dyen With brasil, ne with greyn of Portingale. Now sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!’	‘Sir Nonnes Preest,’ our hoste seyde anoon, ‘Y-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon! This was a mery tale of Chauntecleer. But, by my trouthe, if thou were seculer, Thou woldest been a trede-foul a-right. For, if thou have corage as thou hast might, Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene, Ya, mo than seven tymes seventene. See, whiche braunes hath this gentil Preest, So greet a nekke, and swich a large breest! He loketh as a sperhauk with his yën; Him nedeth nat his colour for to dyen With brasil, ne with greyn of Portingale. Now sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!’
And after that he, with ful mery chere, Seide to another, as ye shullen here.	And after that he, with ful mery chere, Seide to another, as ye shullen here.